#just like the marketers *coughs blood*

[no1ryomafan]

I’m laying in bed after a long day out with a friend after talking a bit about getter to them and once more at war at myself on *why* arma ryoma is the ryoma to scratch my brain when new is objectively better written then him.

I will always argue and say arma ryoma isn’t a terrible written interpretation of him, there’s a lot from that you can poke at him like with most ryomas but he has clear missed potential and he isn’t he as fleshed out as he could be, especially compared to new. Yet no matter how many times I think about it he still intrigues slightly more.

Is it because what happens to him is most engaging? How with even his absence he goes through some of the most insane shit ever? That you can tell despite what he lacks he’s a fucked man, arguably if not more then the direct trauma his new self goes through? And yet he still gets a decent resolution to his arc?

…Or is it because I find him more hot even still. Fuck if I know at this hour.

[sunsburns]

been thinking about dating college!art and you get into a really big fight until he decides to show up at your dorm *cough* make up sex *cough*

i had wayy too much fun with this… SMUT 17+

“i’m still mad at you, you know.” there’s no real bite to your bark, not when your voice is breathless, your cheeks are flushed, and your hands keep running through his hair.

“yeah, i know,” art drawls, his voice softening. he says it because a part of him knows it’s true, but he can’t help the faint smile that grows on his face. he knows you won’t stay mad for long, but he still feels the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. he’d do anything to make it up to you. with every press of his lips, he mutters a quiet “i’m sorry,” against your skin, then grazes his teeth along your ankle before making his way up your leg.

he’d thought of a million different things to say to you, how he would stand his ground or cave to your defences. but all of it was thrown out the window the moment you opened that door. you were wearing his shirt—or maybe it was patrick’s, maybe even tashi’s—and a pair of panties. the sight of your messy desk, covered in textbooks, notebooks, and your open laptop, reminded him you were doing homework, or trying to. but the ache in his chest at the thought of you hating him was overwhelming.

it was killing him knowing you were upset, and he was the cause of it. that’s why art had taken a trip to the nearest farmer’s market the moment he was off the court, and he bought you flowers and your favourite snack and knocked on your door.

now the flowers are forgotten by your desk, the snacks on the floor, and you’re still trying to keep up the act that you’re mad at art. but the truth is, you can’t even remember what you were mad at him about in the first place. 

the way he looks at you, with such earnest remorse and tenderness, makes it hard to hold onto your anger. you sigh, running your fingers through his hair again, feeling the tension between you start to melt away.

“i hate how you do this to me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. art’s eyes meet yours, and he pauses, his lips hovering just above your knee.

“i know,” he says again, his voice filled with a mix of regret and hope. his hands roam up the sides of your thighs, fingers brushing your ass before they turn into the curve between your legs. “but i’m here now,” he presses a kiss against your hot skin again, making his way up, up, and up. “and i want to make it right.”

as he continues his gentle kisses, moving slowly and tenderly, you feel your defences crumbling. the anger that once felt so strong is now just a distant memory. art’s presence, his touch, his voice, his words, all of him- it’s all you can think about.

he looks up at you, sitting on the bed while he kneels before you. you’re watching him, waiting for his next move when he is still between your legs. 

when you run your nails against his scalp, art doesn't bother hiding the quiet whimper that slips past his lips before he closes his eyes and leans his head towards your arm. 

he lets you hold him while his hands trail up your sides, reaching and groping anything he can before his fingers tug at your panties, and he carefully slips them off you.

when he kisses your clit, you rest your leg over his shoulder, heel pressing against the muscles of his back. his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer while he starts to eat you out. 

art starts slow, calculated strokes of his tongue against you, running it in tight circles against your clit, dipping it lower when he gets a little more confident. when you arch your back and whine, pushing his head closer so you can ride his face, he starts to pick up the pace, hoping to hear that sound come out of you again.

when his tongue pokes at your cunt, it draws a loud moan out of you, blood rushing to your ears. “fuck, art,” you whimper, grinding against his face. “feels so good.”

art seems to like it more than you, eyes closed in bliss, humming and moaning against your cunt, each vibration from his mouth making you spiral. his hips buck up into nothing, but he doesn't seem to mind as his hands hold onto you tighter, as if he is afraid to lose you. 

“you’re so pretty like this,” you barely manage to get out, your heart thumping against your chest.

art moans again at your praise and finally opens his eyes to meet your burning gaze. his low, nearly pathetic whine with his eyes on you was what it took to push you over the edge.

art lets you ride it out, he lets you grind against his face, he lets you use him again and again and again until you’ve had your fill and there is nothing left of him.

and when you cup his cheeks and bring his face to yours and kiss him like you have a one-track mind, he has an inkling feeling that you're not mad at him anymore. you press your forehead against his, hand cupping the back of his neck, and he lets out a sigh and you breathe it in. 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, one more time, to make sure you know he means it.

you smile, offering him half a shrug and another kiss. “just let me return the favour.”

[alnilaem]

slobbering and whimpering at the thought of butcher!simon who also happens to be your socially inept neighbour <3

—

It’s the seedier side of Manchester you move to. To a flat with wet rot between each brick and the peal of police sirens on every other street.

Crammed into the corner of your block is a little gem found between flats and markets: a well-loved butcher shop.

It’s suffocating when you walk in. Dewy and damp and misty and permeating with the angry odour of metal, poorly offset by an overripe air freshener hanging above the entrance.

A man lurks behind the counter. He’s big. Huge. Demands too much space as the coarsely-sewn sheers of his shirt look like they’re about to burst at his biceps. His hair is tamed under a Man Utd cap, but a few odd-angled curls peek out. His arm, swathed in tattoos, flexes as he hacks at a red piece of meat, slicing through the tendons, as you meagrely clear your throat for his attention.

His eyes, sunken in his sallow sockets, hinge upwards to stare at you.

“Um, hope I’m not interrupting you.”

His eyebrows purse because obviously you are. He steps away from the counter, wiping his big, bloodied hands against his apron.

“Could I just-“ you sharply inhale, then belatedly regret it as the smell of raw meat invades your senses. You suppress a cough as to not offend him. He stands with his arms crossed, the papery crows feet of his eyes folding as he stares at you above his mask. “Ah… lamb shanks?”

He grunts. It’s curt, but it doesn’t seem rude. More like socially inept in the ways in which he regards you, and how he prepares your order in sparse, quick movements.

“£6.00.”

You fish in your pocket and bring out a thin handful of coins. He swipes it, doesn’t bother to count it, for some reason, and slides the lamb into a repurposed Tesco bag, handing it over the display.

You reach over, your gaze flitting to his name tag which features only the tail-end of his name, the rest of the ink smudged and washed away from years of hard work.

As you swipe the bag from his hold, his finger brushes yours. A gossamer-thin layer of blood stains your forefinger and marinates your skin in the middle of the exchange.

You pivot, throwing a soft thanks over your shoulder, and rub your thumb into his vestigial warmth on your finger.

—

It’s after dark when you slip outside your flat, bin bag slapping against your thigh. You’re in a large sweatshirt and some shorts, chucking the trash down the disposal, when the tinny, grating sound of metal-against-metal peals from the elevator.

You throw a cursory glance over your shoulder, but freeze as you spot a familiar figure ducking under the roof of the lift and stepping onto your floor. The butcher.

He is clad in a filmy jacket, arms laden with shopping bags as he helps an elderly lady into her flat.

She says “Thank you, Simon,” and Simon nods, closing the door on his way out.

He fishes through his pockets for his keys and shoulders past you. You think he doesn’t recognise you, or worse, pointedly ignores you.

And for some reason, the latter thought causes a pang of sadness to seize you.

However, halfway down the corridor, in front of the flat next to your own, Simon turns around.

“You’re the new neighbour? Room 146?”

His eyes flicker from your legs to your face. A film of recognition glosses his eyes. Your mouth suddenly feels dry and you dumbly nod, preening under his intimidating eyes.

“Walls are thin,” he says, jamming his keys into the lock, “try keeping quiet, love. Some of us’ve got work in the mornings, yeah?”

Before you can reply, the conversation is already over with the slam of Simon’s door swinging shut.

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

[henza-hex]

My Husband's Secret 2

Shortly after I discovered my husband was a gassy hog and he discovered my fetish, things are going well in the house. He is feeling much more comfortable around me. I mean, he has always been sweet, but now he knows he can let it RIP and I won't be bothered.

This morning was an example, I made him breakfast so he could get ready for work. No tricks to make him gassy this time, but I had a surprise when he came down the stairs already in his suit — that I am OBSSESED with — and approached me while I washed the dishes.

"The food was delicious this morning, thank you, baby." He hugged me from the back.

"I think I'm becoming a housewife" I joke. "Going already?"

"Yeah, 10 minutes or I'm going to be late." He cupped my chin and embraced me for a kiss. He took the opportunity to rip a monstruous belch on my mouth.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPP

As my own mouth muffled this explosion, I could taste all of his breakfast again, as it loud rumbling echoed through my throat.

*COUGH* *COUGH*

I gagged as he laughed at me. This was damn fucking hot, but it was strong even for me.

"Damn, if you want to kill me, the knife would hurt less." I say with teary eyes, joking, but meaning it.

"I know you loved it. It's only my way of properly thank you for this morning." He smirks while I was on a coughing fit.

"You're... welcome?" I answer.

He just laughs and goes for a real kiss this time.

"Now I have to go, try to not miss me much" He says with a smirk.

"I'm already dying..." I say in sarcasm.

"And oh... one more thing..." I saw him swallowing air in a glimpse, and in another, he was up close, ripping another huge belch on my face.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP

This time, loud and proud, so explosive that even left some speckles of saliva on my face.

"Hahaha, that was for the sass... and for not telling me this before. Oh, I have to gas up your face so much to make it count for those years..." He says, leaving before I could answer after another coughing fit.

_________________________________________

Afternoon came, and I finished my tasks and started to prepare dinner for when he arrives. I noticed that some ingredients were missing and went to the market to buy the rest. I wasn't expecting it to be so busy, so it took me very long.

When I got back, it was already night, and he must have returned. After finishing my business in the kitchen, I'm welcomed in my room with this view:

"Hey babe..." he said with a tired voice.

My blood rose a little seeing him in this position. He always had amazing glutes, and I loved how his slacks hugged every curve of his muscular legs.

"Sorry, I had to buy some things to finish dinner tonight..." I was about to apologise, when he cut me.

"No problem, but... I got a request..." he asked in a seductive tone, while he juggled his cheeks. "Why don't you lay your face down there while I relieve myself? You know... after work I always have some pent up gas"

We were married for years already, and that could sent chills up my spine that you only feel for your crush. And I could't resist.

Slowly, I got into position and laid my face on his cheeks. His mounds were very big and muscular, and I always loved how it enveloped my face.

He didn't say anything, the only thing I could feel, hear and smell was:

PBPBPBPBPPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBBBBBBBFFFFTTTT

This time, I sniffed deep. It was loud, strong and very stinky.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT

His gassy assault continued between his grunts and my sniffs.

"Wow... that was amaz-" I was about to say when he grabbed the back of my head and burried into his ass.

"Get up close, this is going to be a big one...HNGGGG"

PBPBPBPBPPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBPBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

It was one of the biggest I ever witnessed, so explosive that it felt like a punch when it hit my face.

"Aaaaah, that one was stuck..." He said in utter relief while he rubbed his ass on my face, and I sniffed deep.

[xoxoxkisses]

Hanahaki

Muichiro x Reader Desc: the reader has hanahaki disease after experiencing one-sided love with the mist hashira. She decides to keep it a secret to not hurt her loved ones, except it hurts even worse in the end. Warnings: not proofread, angst ———————————————————————————————————— He didn’t like you back and it was slowly killing you on the inside, literally. You were diagnosed with Hanahaki Disease and it was killing you. Why can’t you just like me? You quit the corps when you found out the news. Your condition got worse day after day and it caused you to become weaker very fast. You wanted to keep it a secret, the fact you were dying. You didn’t need or want anyone’s pity. *Cough Cough*

You looked in your hands and counted three small white petals along with drops of blood. Your throat and chest burned with pain, but you were used to it. You took the petals in your hands and walked outside to the nearby stream. You liked to dump the petals into that stream because you found it calming to see them float away. ———————————————————————————————————— Your condition got worse. The petals became fully bloomed flowers. You coughed them up more frequently now, sometimes even throwing them up. Even though it hurts, it’s all for you

You had to run some errands so you went to the market. As you were picking up some fruit, you felt a familiar presence beside you. You looked over and saw Muichiro standing beside you, looking at you. “Oh, hey Muichiro.” He noticed how your voice sounded scratchy, and how pale you looked. You just looked..sick. “Hello Y/n.” He still looked as handsome as ever to you, maybe even better. You bowed to him. “It was nice to see you, but I must be going.” You paid for your fruit and began walking off. “Wait Y/n, can we talk?” You stopped and turned to him, and you shyly looked away and nodded your head. You both went to your estate. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He sighed and his usual blank stare turned into worry. “Y/n, we all know you’re sick. I just want to know what’s wrong with you.” You fiddled with your hands. “I-I don’t want to say..I kept it a secret to not worry you all.” “Y/n, your plan isn’t working you know?” You hesitated to answer him. You sighed and gave in. “I have Hanahaki Disease. I’m suffering for loving someone who doesn’t love me.” His eyes went wide. As soon as he was going to say something, you started coughing and out came multiple flowers. Muichiro recognized those flowers. They weren’t in bloom, yet he saw them in the stream a lot. As he looked back up to you, he noticed the blood coming from your mouth. “Y/n, you’re bleeding.” He took his sleeve and wiped it away. “Thanks. Since I cough so violently, it causes my throat to bleed.” Then you remembered the flowers. “Hey, can you help me dump these in the stream?” So it was you who they were coming from. “Yeah, of course.” The two of you picked up the flowers and went to the stream and dumped them. You watched as they floated away and a calm sense of serenity came over you. As you two were walking back, you broke the silence. “I don’t have much time left, maybe a month.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What?!” You looked up and smiled at the clouds. “Just promise me you won’t tell the others.” He looked at you and nodded. ———————————————————————————————————— He came over almost everyday to check up on you. Your condition had reached its final stage. The flower roots were growing in your body. Since you could no longer move, Muichiro dumped your flowers into the stream. You were in pain, a lot of pain. It hurt to breathe, some points you couldn’t breathe. You were grateful he was there for you. Unfortunately, you knew your time was up. He hadn’t came over for a couple days since he was on a mission, but you wanted him at your side. You felt a pain in your lungs, and that’s when you realized the roots had pierced them. You couldn’t breathe anymore, and you accepted your fate, that you were about to die. Muichiro came back as soon as he was back from his mission. When he walked in, he sensed something was wrong. He rushed over to where you were, and when he got there he noticed you were gone. Flowers sprouted out of your skin, your body now covered in them. “No..this can’t be true.” He ran over to your side and realized you were long gone. He picked you up and held you to his chest. He cried, he hadn’t cried in months, he grew to really care about you. ———————————————————————————————————— Your funeral was beautiful. Everyone was there for you. They all felt guilty for not knowing what was wrong with you, but realized there was nothing they could do. They found out you had refused treatments and you were fine with passing. Except for him. He missed you dearly, he hadn’t realized it, but he loved you, but it was too late.

[quite-right-too]

Animal I Have Become

Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: The Doctor doesn't like seeing people harm what's his. (18+ only)

The Oncoming Storm.

The Time Lord Victorious.

The Destroyer of Worlds.

The Doctor had many names in many different languages that spread across the stars. Tales of the last of the Time Lords echoed through the galaxy — the man who had destroyed two entire races, including his own people, and stopped being merciful many years ago.

Nobody quite knew how old the Doctor was, or how far back the legends had been traced, but one thing was certain.

Everywhere you went, people were afraid of the Doctor.

The Doctor you knew was gentle and kind. He made you breakfast in the mornings and told you how much he loved you. His eyes were so full of adoration and joy when he was around you.

However, that didn’t mean he was always like that.

All you had done was stop for repairs. You had a task to complete; find the market stall and acquire a list of parts. The Doctor had already written a list and drew some pictures next to each part to make it easier for you to find.

The city you were in was disorienting. It had already gotten dark, making the directions you were given nearly useless. One wrong turn and you found yourself in an alley. As you went to turn around, a man approached you.

His skin was a dark, rich shade of blue. He looked human aside from that. And the small horns that stuck out of his forehead. ‘Like a devil,’ you thought.

“So,” the dark humanoid man standing in front you took a step forward, prompting you to take a step back. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The street lamp above you flickered unnervingly as you inched further and further away. Each step forward was met with a step back until you were cloaked in darkness, just outside of the small illuminated circle you were relying on for just a modicum of safety.

You felt your back hit the wall as you took another step backwards — it was a dead end.

You were trapped.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Your heart began to race as a silver glint in the man’s hand caught your eye. The low light reflected off the knife that he held tightly.

Uncertainty makes you afraid. Fear makes you reckless. Just be confident in everything you do and above all else, just remember…

The Doctor’s words echoed through your head as you tightened your fists, preparing for whatever was going to come next. If you were going to die, you would not make it easy. You braced for the inevitable as your attacker surged forward.

I will always be there to save you.

The blue-skinned man was pulled backwards into the light and tossed to the ground. A sickening crack echoed through the dark alley followed by a groan and a cough.

Towering above him was the Doctor. Tall and powerful, long coat billowing around him from the speed he had run over. This was not the man you woke up next to that morning or made love to the night before.

This was the Oncoming Storm.

And he was pissed.

Even in the faint light, you could see that his eyes were impossibly dark. He stared down at the man on the ground with a sneer, his converse-clad foot pressing down on his throat. Below him, the stranger clawed at the Doctor’s leg.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the Doctor murmured coldly. “Why shouldn’t I spill your blood all over the pavement like the filth you are?”

Fear flashed in the alien’s eyes. “Please, I’m sorry,” he choked out breathlessly. “I didn’t know you- I would never have-” He was cut off as the Doctor put pressure on his throat, kneeling down to pick up the dropped knife.

The Time Lord twirled the blade in his hand. “Oh,” he cooed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” Without warning, the Doctor quietly and subtly drove the knife into the man’s chest. “And you never will again.”

The thrashing subsided and the Doctor stood up, leaving the knife in the man's chest as thick red liquid began to form a pool underneath him. Wiping his hand haphazardly on his pant leg, he stared down at the body below him.

“Don’t touch what’s mine.”

Before you could even get a word out over what you had just witnessed, the Doctor had you pinned against the wall with a bruising kiss. “You heard me,” he growled. “You’re mine. All mine.” His hands gripped your hips with such force that you couldn’t move, even if you tried.

You gasped as he moved his mouth down your neck. “Fuck, Doctor!” That spurred him on further as he rutted against you, his hardening cock pressing against your lower abdomen.

Nimble fingers undid the button on your jeans, ripping them down your legs with your underwear. “You’re all fucking mine,” he growled as he unbuttoned his own trousers and shoved them down to his thighs, pants following. 

You were desperate for more. Hard and fast and brutal.

The look in the Doctor’s eyes indicated that he knew exactly what you wanted.

Wordlessly, he helped lift you so could wrap your legs around his hips, cock resting at your entrance. “Oooh, so wet for me already?” he breathed, thrusting himself against your slit. “You got absolutely soaked watching me make sure nobody ever touches what’s mine.” His long coat settled around the two of you, offering more privacy in the darkness.

The head of his cock slipped inside you, resting just for a second, before he slammed himself into you to the hilt. “Oh, gods,” he groaned, beginning a punishing rhythm. “You feel so fucking good.” His mouth began to wander down your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into your skin.

As he pushed you harder into the wall, one of his hands wandered up to the back of your head, keeping you from hitting the wall as he fucked you mercilessly.

Even in the situation you were in now, you found it extremely endearing.

“Doctor, please,” you choked out, hands grasping at his back. “I need you, all of you.” You felt him grin against your throat at your words.

“Damn right you do. You’re mine. Only mine. Nobody else gets to touch you.” He enunciated with a particularly hard thrust, “Look at you. Fuck, nobody even gets to think about you.” He let out a filthy moan as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I’ll kill the next bastard that thinks they can take you from me.”

Tightening around his cock, your impending orgasm was making itself known. The Doctor knew it too, keeping his thrusts hard and fast.

“You’re going to come, aren’t you, love? When you do, you’re going to scream for me. Scream my name so everyone knows who you belong to. Be good and come for me. Now.”

You felt the coil snap as your orgasm crashed over you. You followed his instructions, screaming his name. Calling out for the universe to hear. Making sure everyone knew what you were.

Property of the Doctor.

A few more thrusts and the Doctor followed with a shout, burying his face into your neck. He marked you inside and out, filling you just as you liked. Spurting his come into you and letting it trail down your arse. Leaving you absolutely fucked filthily and ruined for anyone who even thought of trying their luck with you.

“Thank you,” you sighed happily as he helped ease you down off of him. It didn’t take long for him to clean you both up and drag you off to the TARDIS.

He made sure you knew you were his at least five more times that night.

[whirlybirbs]

Given that Izuku is not only a huge All might fanboy but also directly in his life, he’s seen Derecho become the hero she is now and also seen how her relationship with All might has changed. What are his thoughts? Does he also ship them? Does he have some sort of negative feeling towards her after how close she got to ending all might??

Izuku Midorya was one of those hero twitter stan users who would comment under All Might x Derecho content going: "cute but remember when she tried to k*ll him". Keyword: was.

Midorya agreed widely with the stance that the glimpses the public gets of some sort of relationship over the years is for marketing. Not the use of past tense.

(He asked All Might one or two times about his history with you in babbled sentences over historical recounts, but each time the man swept it away and under some far-off rug as a guise of "focusing on the basics".)

And then he meets you for the first time.

You're standing there before dawn, smiling up at Toshinori Yagi — All Might — on Takoba beach before class. Midorya knows enough that this is a private moment, and he can't help but stopping in his tracks. You're both by the sea wall, leaned against one another, watching the sunrise. Two of the greatest pro-heroes of all time. All Might's hand is on your back, and you're saying something that's making him rumble out a half-cough, half-laugh into his shirt collar.

You made All Might laugh.

You... you made him smile.

And you're beautiful.

OhmygodtherumorswerealltrueIwonderhowlongthey'vebeentogetherItmustbeatleasttwentyyearsnowWhatyeardidtheymeetagainOhright—

All Might's eyes catch Izuku's over his shoulder.

Midorya swallows thickly when his mentor gives him a soft wave, come on over, earning your attention as you follow the gesture over his shoulder.

"Uh, hello," he starts, his hands wringing the straps of his bag, "I'm—"

"Izuku," your voice is softer in real-life than it is on all those hero reels; you're pretty. Softer than you were in your prime, but still possessing an edge that electrifies the air. Midorya's cheeks are hot, "I've heard... Big fan."

The praise makes his whole body go rigid.

You lean back against the sea wall, and Izuku's mouth parts in quiet shock. All Might has talked about him? T-To his partner? Partner? Lover? Wife...? Are they married? His eyes narrow in on both of yours hands, darting back and forth. No ring. No ring? Maybe just... good friends? No, no way. Friends definitely don't stare at one another in the sunrise.

...Do they?

Friends definitely don't look at you the All Might is, all soft appreciation and love.

Or... do they?!

"Th-Thank you! That's incredibly kind," Midorya stutters out, his expression a little wild. Almost like a cornered deer. It's cute.

"Derecho is going to be helping us with instruction today," All Might says slowly, his hands moving to the lower of your back. The gesture could be considered professional. Izuku feels like his brain is going to short-circuit, "She's very important to me. I'm sure you're familiar with her quirk?"

"Y-Yes! Electrification and general control of elemental lightning—"

"Someone's done his research," you croon with a smile, "You're really smart, kid."

Oh, god, and she's, like, super duper nice—

"And her weakness?" Toshinori presses for good measure, just proving how much Midorya knows.

"Electrolytes! Your body needs more than the average person in order for the conductivity of your quirk to be maximized. Also, prolonged use of your quirk can impact your cardiac conduction," he chatters; your smile is growing.

You nudge Toshi with your elbow. You approve. Not that you needed any proof aside from Toshinori's gut instinct that Izuku Midorya was the right pick for his legacy.

"And blondes," you toss in as a joke, "Those count as a weakness, I'd say—"

Another laugh from All Might. This time it results in a little bit of blood. You're offering up a tissue — one from the pocket pack kept in the pocket of your over-sized sweatshirt. He thanks you. You gently touch his arm.

Izuku Midorya has so fucking clue what's happening right now.

He spends that next night on a deep dive, hours long rabbit hole of 'All Might and Derecho dating?' searches and interview supercuts from their primes. There are no answers — none except a few tweets with unreliable narrations of their interactions and body language.

He actually finds himself saying 'please kiss' out loud on more than on occasion.

What the fuck.

...He's never shipped anything harder in his life.

— a reference to this fic here ;

[petitelepus]

The Demon Gift: Choosing Hantengu, Part 1

Demon!Slave!Hantengu X Fem!Reader

Summary: It's your birthday and your adoptive father who is filthy rich and corrupted, takes you out to get you a brand new present, a Demon slave and you get to pick one! Only you pick the worst there is, Hantengu, and suffer for it.

Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Domestication, Implied Domestic Abuse, Hantengu Is Abused, Reader's Father Is A-Grade Asshole, But Things Get Better

A/N: Demon Slave AU, Domesticated Demons, Reader Insert, Fem!Reader, Hantengu, Master/Slave

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

EXTRA: Originally this was a Demon Pet!AU, but I wanted to travel to the depths of Demon Slave!AU and I think I can do more with slaves than pets. Please, sorry, and thank you for understanding!

You were on your family's limousine, on your way to God knew where. One moment you were in your room and the next moment the servant had come to fetch you, telling you that your father wanted to see you. Why, you had no clue.

The dark windows didn't offer you much to see, so you had no idea where you were at. You glanced at the man sitting across from you, scrolling through his phone and not even sparing a glance at you.

"Dad-!" You were saying but the man shot you a quick glare, "What was that?"

"I mean father." You quickly corrected yourself. "Where are we heading?"

"You're an adult woman already, Starfish."

God, you hated that nickname. You used to love it as a kid, but as you grew and learned what responsibilities, and burdens came with the nickname you started to hate it.

"So you deserve some responsibility." This man who had married your mom and taken you as his own when you were just a toddler, said and you tried your hardest not to frown, visibly at least. He always had something in his mind, and most of the time it was not your well-being.

"Father, I-!"

"Hush, we are here now!"

The limousine came to a halt and the servants rushed to open and hold the doors for you and your father.

"Happy birthday, Starfish!" Your father smiled and you followed him out of the car and looked at the huge warehouse before you. You blinked, confused and completely unaware of your surroundings or place. This place was secure and far out from any civilization, just what was here that he wanted you to see?

"Father, this is…?" You left the sentence unfinished, giving your father a chance to fill you in.

"It's a Demon Market!" The man smiled as he stepped forward and one of the servants closed the car's door behind him and you. You looked at the place and frowned, "Is this place even legal?"

"Why, does it matter?" Your father asked and you wanted to frown and object, tell him how cruel and horrible these places were, but you saw the look in the older man's eyes and you knew to keep your mouth shut.

"I guess, not…" You murmured and your father nodded as the two of you walked up to the warehouse's door and knocked in a quick rhythm. The doors slid open and the smell of blood and rotten meat struck you like lightning. You coughed a little, trying to hide the gagging as you followed your father inside the dark building.

You looked around in horror, seeing Demons in cages on top of cages, running from one side of the warehouse to another, stacked on top of one another. Despite the smell and the darkness, it looked like the Demons were in fairly good shape but you could never tell unless you got closer to inspect them.

"Mister Sliver!" A man, a human walked up to you and you were momentarily taken aback by how huge the man was. He was tall and pure muscle, but maybe it was needed when handling Demons.

"Barney, I'm happy to see you!" Your father laughed as they hugged and you almost gawked. You had never seen your father hug anyone, even your mother before, so this man Barney must have been important.

"And is this beautiful woman your wife?" The muscly man asked and you almost gagged again. Your father laughed, "No, no, this is my beloved daughter!"

"My bad!" Barney laughed, "Nice to meet you, young Lady."

"Good afternoon." You nodded back but you didn't return the smile. Not that it seemed to make any difference.

"So Slick-!" Barney started and you assumed Slick was your father's nickname, "You said you are looking for a Demon for a special someone?"

"Yes, that would be my daughter!" Your father laughed and you almost felt your heart drop down your stomach.

"Da- Father!" You gasped, "A Demon? For me?"

"Why not? Your siblings also got their Demons from here!"

Same siblings who made your life living Hell and once they matured they turned their abuse to those poor Demons they had chosen? No, you weren't like that and you didn't want to turn into something like that!

"Father, as nice as the thought is, I doubt I want-!"

"Nonsense! Pick any Demon you want and I will buy it for you!" He said, "What you do with it is up to you!"

"I…" You swallowed, "I'm not sure I'm cut out for it…"

"Picking your first slave can be challenging, but you are my daughter!" He laughed as he patted you on the shoulder with a little too much force, "I'll be waiting outside. Oh, I can hardly wait to see what you pick up! I expect nothing but perfection from you!"

Yeah, nice, lay on the pressure.

"Take care of her Barney and send me the bill! Remember, nothing but the best!"

You weren't sure if your father meant the rest of his sentence to you or this master, and you honestly didn't care. You watched him leave the warehouse and you felt sick as you looked around almost as helplessly as a baby chick.

"So?" Barney grinned and you noticed he was missing one of his front teeth, "What kind of Demon are you looking for?"

"I… I don't know yet." You replied honestly and he nodded, "Nice. Just look around and whistle if you find something that catches your eye!"

"Sure…" You nodded as you stepped away from the muscle man and started to go through the cages filled with Demons. They were all very different and no one was similar to one before them. Despite their awful living spaces, they were all pretty well taken care of.

How should you be able to choose one and what would you do with them? Maybe make them help around the house? That would require either muscles or grace so maybe a strong Demon or a woman perhaps?

"Yaaah!" A sudden blood-freezing screech almost made you jump out of your skin and you turned before heading towards the source of the scream.

It was just around the corner, in a more lit area of the factory which confused you since Demons preferred darker surroundings. What you saw shocked you to the core.

A muscular man, thinner than Barney but pretty damn muscly also, was roughhousing a Demon dressed in nothing but rags, showing off his boney body. He was such an ugly feeble and old-looking Demon, but the most notable thing in him was the large bump on the top of his head, just above his horns.

"Please…! Please stop! It hurts…!" The Demon cried, big fat tears running down from his red eyes as he covered in fear.

"Shut the fuck up you worthless piece of shit!" The man, another master shouted as he reeled his hand back and smacked the Demon on the cheek so hard that the force of the slap almost sent him flying. The Demon landed on the floor with a loud thud and let out an even louder cry of pain, moving quickly to huddle into a corner and curl into a defensive ball.

"Get back here you ugly son of a whore!" The man shouted as he started to undo his belt and you froze as memories flashed through your mind. The belt, the swoosh, the burning pain when it made contact.

Suddenly it was harder to breathe in the stuffy blood-smelling warehouse. Time felt like it froze around you and everything stilled. You would have been trapped in the trance if it wasn't for the sound of the belt moving through the air and hitting the Demon, making him cry out in pain.

"Little shits like you don't deserve to-!"

"S- stop that!" You don't know where the courage to go between the man and Demon came from, but you stood there, arms wide and protecting the Demon, "Stop that at once!"

"Who the fuck are you!?" The man shouted and raised the belt over his hand, about to hit you also, but you stood your ground and-

"Charlie lay off!"

You and the man turned to look and saw a very mad-looking Barney walking at the three of you, "That's Slick's daughter!"

"Shit." This master, Charlie cursed as he looped the belt back around his pants just as Barney made it to you guys, "Everything okay?"

"What the Hell?" You hissed like a furious cat and Barney looked at you, "Charlie didn't hit you, did he?"

"No, but he was hitting this Demon!" You pointed at the poor Demon shivering and crying behind you.

"That one?" Barney laughed, "That's Punchy!"

"Punchy?" You repeated, highly doubting that it was this Demon's name and if it was, it was either a horrible name or had a darker meaning.

"Yeah, he is our little friend, aren't you Punchy?" Charlie laughed as he stepped past you and nudged the Demon with the heel of his shoe, making the poor thing whimper in fear.

The master laughed, "Don't worry girlie, Demons can take a lot of beating! As long as you feed them, they heal. As far as I'm aware, Punchy has always been an ugly piece of shit. Haven't you?"

"P- Please…!" The Demon cried as he furiously rubbed his tear-filled eyes, "Don't hurt me…!"

"Go look for a slave you like. Charlie will take Punchy to another room and you can focus on some prime Demons!" Barney said and his friend Charlie grabbed the Demon's upper arm and was about to yank the poor man up… But before Charlie could do so, you snapped your hand around his wrist and squeezed as hard as you physically could.

"What the-!" He looked at you and you glared at him, "I'm buying him."

"What?" Both Charlie and Barney were shocked and honestly, so were you. Did you really want this old Demon as your first one, no, as your only one when there were much younger, prettier, and stronger Demons?

…But something in this one pulled your heartstrings. You wanted to save him and that's what you were going to do.

"That?" The masters could barely believe what they were hearing so they replied with laughter and mockery. You frowned as you listened to them badmouth poor the Demon while he was right there. Had they no shame?

"You have a good humor kid!" Barney laughed as he reached for you, no doubt going to escort you away to look at some other Demons, "Let's just go there and-!"

You were damned if you would let this barbarian touch you! You slapped his hand away and he looked stunned as you frowned and stood by the poor Demon's side, "I'm picking him. No buts or ifs, I want to buy him."

Barney and Charlie shared looks before they both burst out laughing.

"Chick is crazy!" They laughed as they walked away and you growled but stopped when you heard the Demon behind you whimper in fear. He was so pathetic when you looked at him, trying to press so hard against the wall as if he wished it would swallow him. You tried to show sympathy to the frail being so you kneeled down to his level to make yourself less scary.

"Can you stand up?" You asked, voice hushed and gentle as you offered your hand to him. The Demon shivered and sobbed as he looked at you and your hand like he was expecting this to be a mockery and for you to smack or do something much worse to him.

But you were patient with him and finally, he nodded and shakily raised his bony hand and placed it on your awaiting palm. You smiled a little as you helped him up to his feet, but as soon as you got him standing you noticed that he didn't straighten his back.

No, he was crouching as he got behind you and grabbed your upper arm with both hands, making you winch a little. Despite looking frail, he was rather strong.

"Easy, not so hard please?" You whispered and the Demon shivered as he looked at you, and slowly he nodded and loosened his grip a little so it wasn't painful anymore.

Walking outside with him was a little more challenging with him clinging on to you, but you made it. Sun was setting so there wasn't so much light that would burn him, but what sunlight there was must have stung him as he sobbed and clung to you tighter.

Your father was leaning against the limousine, smoking a cigarette, but when he saw you step outside the factory he flicked the cancer stick aside and smiled… But that smile died when he saw the Demon clinging to you.

"Barney, what the fuck!?" Your father snapped as he looked at his friend, "What the fuck are you playing at!? What is this ugly piece of shit!?"

"Relax Slick, your daughter picked him!" Barney laughed as he pointed at you with his thumb. You realized that you might have made a huge mistake choosing this Demon, as you hadn't even stopped to think how your father would react.

"Take it back and choose something else!" Your father shouted, his loud voice scaring the Demon behind you. You frowned as you stood your ground, "I want this one."

"Take it back or else-!" He left the thread hanging, and despite fearing him, you stuck to your decision, "You told me to pick a slave I wanted and I want this one."

"Your girl sure is funny Slick!" Barney laughed, not helping at all and he just made your father angrier. Seeing that there was no way for him to win this argument, he scowled as he turned around and the servants opened the car door for him.

"Get in the car." He snapped and you swallowed nervously as you followed him, your Demon clinging close to you. As the servants got in with you guys, the limousine took off.

The Demon was on his knees, hugging your legs like he was too scared to let go of you and what would happen if he did so. You couldn't help but notice that his nails were long and chipped, not being taken care of at all. You glanced at the servants and even they were looking at Demon of your choice with disgust.

Your father was on his phone again, but he was frowning and that alone was a scary sight. Suddenly you weren't feeling as brave as you felt back at the warehouse. The whole drive back to the civilization was quiet save for the Demon's sobbing but finally, your father broke the silence.

"You made a fool of me today." He stated and you swallowed nervously, "Father-!"

"I have never been this humiliated!" He shouted suddenly and pointed at your Demon who let out a small shriek of fear as he hugged your legs tighter, "You got the weakest, ugliest thing there was!"

"I'm sorry-!" You were trying to apologize but the limousine came to a halt. A servant stepped out and opened the door for you, but you looked out and saw that you weren't back home but by some hotel. You blinked in confusion and turned to look at your father who didn't even spare a glance at you.

"As far as I'm aware, I have one daughter less." The man grunted and your eyes widened in shock. Was he really going to disown you for this? How petty could a man be?

"Father, I-!"

"Here," He snapped his fingers and a servant offered you a briefcase.

"What is this?" You blinked in confusion as you accepted the heavy case and your father grumbled, "Take that as your inheritance."

"My what?"

"I'm buying you out of the family. You get all that money and you stay away from me, your mother, and your siblings."

"Y- You can't just-!" You tried to protest but he shot you a glare that made you quiet down immediately.

"I can, and I will!"

"What about my stuff at home?"

"I'll have a servant bring them to you when you find your own place." Your father glared at you, "Now get the fuck out of my car you no good brat, and take that ugly thing with you!"

You bit your lip, trying to hold in your tears as you got up and out of the car, your new Demon slave following close behind you. As soon as you were out, the limousine door was slammed shut and the car left quicker than you could blink.

You sighed as you looked at the hotel and then at your Demon who was shivering and sobbing. At least he didn't appear to be in any pain thanks to the sun setting down and nighttime coming while you were in the car.

"Let's get a room for the night, okay?" You said and the Demon whimpered as he nodded shakily and followed you inside the hotel. You got yourselves a room meant especially for customers with slaves with them.

The briefcase you had gotten from your father was full of money, like, lots of money. He appeared to be pretty generous when he wanted stuff or people gone from his life.

"Okay, this will be our place for a while until I find us a proper place to live in." You said as you opened the door to the hotel room and you let your feeble Demon step inside, who immediately went to cover in the corner of the room.

Seeing that he was pretty shy, you decided to give him a moment alone. After you locked the door, you set the briefcase down by the bed and collapsed on the soft mattress. What a heck of a day you had.

"I- I'm sorry…!" You heard the Demon suddenly whimper, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…!"

You blinked as you pushed yourself upright and looked to see the poor thing crying and apologizing like it was his mantra. Frowning, you got up and walked to the Demon, but he flinched as soon as he noticed you and froze like he was expecting you to lash out at him.

"Hey hey, it's okay…" You said quietly as you kneeled by the Demon's side and gently rubbed his upper back in a comforting manner.

"What's your name? Do you have one or are you really Punchy?"

"…H- Hantengu…" He replied quietly and you smiled a little, feeling like you were making progress with him.

"Hantengu, none of this was your fault." You were lying, but honestly, maybe this was a blessing in disguise, being kicked out of your own horrible family and getting money from it also. It wouldn't be easy, but you could start again now with a fresh start.

"First thing first, are you hungry Hantengu?" You asked and the poor thing was absolutely shivering as he nodded shakily and you nodded also, "Okay, I'm gonna order you some meat to eat. You like meat, don't you?"

It was a pointless question as Demons were almost completely carnivores, but you wanted to be polite. He nodded and you smiled as you got up to order him something to eat from the hotel's kitchen.

Once the morning would come, you would head out to find you and Hantengu an apartment where you could live and some proper clothes for him instead of the rags he was in. Despite the rocky start, you had a good feeling about this.

[passivenovember]

This just fell out of me, team. I hope you enjoy it!

--

Steve’s wearing a sunhat.

Billy spots it on his tromp down the front steps, a nondescript canvas bag balled and clutched in one hand like wilted butcher’s paper, and thinks it could be a dinner plate on top of Harrington’s quaff. A trick of the early morning light slotting an obvious hole in the world.

It’s a sunhat, though.

The bag crinkles in Billy’s fist. Its folds and edges could draw blood. He tugs Steve’s passenger door open with his free hand and settles into the cab. Catches his breath. Says, “Why are you dressed like that?” When Steve only stares at him.

“We’re going to the Farmer’s Market,” Steve says. “It’s a special occasion.” 

They go to the Farmer’s Market every weekend, Billy doesn’t say. Since March, stretching all the way to last summer; off and on while Billy settled into it like a drowned cat, Steve eventually snapping, “We can do this,” Hands on his hips. Jars of pickled vegetables fresh from his little tote bag, glittering on Billy’s kitchen counter. “We can have this.”

“Non FDA regulated vegetables?” Billy had asked, grinning when Steve flushed, turning to dump Billy’s half of the loot into the refrigerator. 

Billy never asked what ‘this,’ meant. What they could have. Thinks he has a decent idea.

“You didn’t need to put a fuckin’ hat on,” Billy says now. Didn’t need to wear that hat. Particularly. 

He’s cute, though. Younger, where its wide, formless brim hides the salt and pepper that’s been slinking up Steve’s temples for the last couple of years, reminding Billy of the decades that rest like rain slickers on their backs. Floppy hats on their heads.

“It’s supposed to be in the low hundreds today.”

“It’s seven-thirty, pretty boy.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Steve says. He throws the car into reverse, but really it’s more a gentle nudge of the gear-shift until the car rolls with gravity into the street. Harrington always driving like a fifty year old man long before he was one. “I read an article that sunscreen isn’t enough anymore,” Steve says bluntly.

“Isn’t enough to what? Keep you celibate?” Billy digs around in his jeans pocket for his cigarettes. The white lighter that Steve had had an aneurysm over when he first saw it.

“No, to stop skin cancer. These days, how the Baby Boomers fucked up the Ozone, you’ve gotta wear sleeves, and sunscreen, and sunglasses, and fuckin’, sunhats,” Steve yanks the lighter out of Billy’s hand before he can spark up. Ignores the punch Billy lands on the one that came, fresh from 1993, with the car. 

America used to be a country. Smoking used to be good for you. 

Steve shoots him a side-ways glance, as if reading his mind. “You’re gonna kick rocks at sixty, Bill. Way you smoke.”

“They don’t make sun hats for lungs yet,” Billy says. The car lighter pops free so he snags it, waiting patiently for the hot-plate coil to catch his cig. When it does, he puts it back. Inhales slowly, peering out the window as the early morning shoots by at 30 miles per hour, a dying star.

He can feel Steve watching him. Now. Always.

“You could stop,” Steve says softly. “Smoking. You’re still young.”

Billy snorts. “Yeah, and you could mind your business.”

“Fuck you, you are my business.”

Billy’s stomach flips. He’s surprised, still, that his guts aren’t knotted and non-functional after all this time. Decades of friendship; career changes and new houses, new wives that slip steadily into ex wives. Kids. One kid. Billy’s. Decades of Steve, worrying about Billy’s diet and nagging at his bad habits, and. Saying shit like that. Flipping Billy’s stomach over on itself.

Billy puffs on his cigarette, rolling his eyes when Steve coughs dramatically into one elbow. He blows a huge cloud, just to be an asshole.

“Dude,” Steve says, leaning away so the car jerks suddenly to the left. 

Billy yelps, jostling against his seatbelt, “Harrington, you’re driving.”

“This is your lungs on nicotine,” Steve says, “A shitty old car driven by a lunatic middle-aged divorcee. Out of control. Veering into a ditch, or–”

“--It’s just a goddamn cigarette–”

“--With every pack you’re killing babies,” Steve tells him. The next streetlight turns gold. Steve runs it. 

Billy hangs on. His heart thumps with every twist and turn of the road. Hawkins races by, a blur of neon green oak trees and dark, supple earth. The grass is burned away in some places. Steve’s ancient car groans in the rising heat, its tires buff their tread against hot pavement.

At the next stoplight, Steve slams on the breaks. 

Billy almost flies through the goddamn windshield. He sits back against car seat leather. He breathes through his nose, counting to ten before he realizes that he’s covered in cigarette ash. His cigarette isn’t lit anymore.

Steve watches him evenly, soulful brown eyes calm.

Too calm.

Billy frowns. “What the fuck is going on with you, man?”

Steve shrugs. 

“It’s just a cigarette,” Billy presses forward, turning in his seat to give this his full fledged fucking attention. “You’re acting like you did when I was moving back home and you thought you couldn’t ask to come. Right before you broke Tommy Hagan’s nose when he said–”

“I know what that asshole said, I’m fifty, not a hundred,” Steve snaps. “I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yeah,” Billy says, shifting, “Yeah, you are. Like that time Alice wouldn’t let you come visit because she was doing that bullshit Home for 40 Days thing after Serena was born,” Billy tells him. He watches Steve’s face. Notices the crack before it happens because they’ve been friends for decades. 

It hurts him. “Steve–”

“I asked to come eventually,” Steve says, voice soft as feather down, neglecting to mention that he didn’t stay in California. “You moved back after the divorce. When Alice–”

“The light’s green,” Billy says. 

“I’m fine,” Steve tells him. “It’s fine.” He breathes through his nose, pawing at the brim of his dorky sun hat like he forgot it was there, for a moment. Like he wants to rip it off. 

Suddenly, with the force of a riptide, Billy misses the wave of Steve’s hair, still impossibly thick even into their middle age. He wants the hat gone, the sun free of all its massive danger. 

“I won’t smoke anymore,” Billy says, “If you want me to stop, I will.”

The moment hangs between them, and then, behind, someone honks.

“I want you to live forever,” Steve admits. Soft. Sweet.

Billy almost breaks in half. Isn’t sure why they’re talking about this now, in a car, on their way to the Market. But that’s what happens when you get older. Every moment like an oak leaf on the wind, slipping like water through clenched fists. 

He frowns, asking, “What about you?” Because. He wouldn’t want to spend forever alone.

“Why else am I wearing a fucking sunhat, Billy?”

Billy’s stomach knots. He opens his mouth to admit that he’s been in love with Steve for forty years, and he’ll always be the kind of man who burps and says the wrong thing and pushes too hard and smokes cigarettes, but. 

He loves him. 

Steve waits. When the second honk comes, he turns away, pulling his shitty old car onto Menard Street without another word. 

Billy swallows love, the movement as familiar to him as their friendship. It tastes like cigarette smoke. He tosses his unlit fag out the window, feeling like the shit hole scum of the earth when Steve reports that 30% of wildfires start with a carelessly discarded cigarette.

There’s a drought, too, Billy doesn’t say.

He should’ve thought it out. But it’s Steve. He only wanted to suck the wound.

–

Steve’s been twitchy for as long as Billy’s known him. It’s worse when he has something to say, when the skeletons in his closet regrow their ligament to stand on knocking knees, banging on the door, asking for an escape. 

Billy’s been around long enough to know that it’s best not to push, even when that’s all he does, all he’ll ever do. But. When it comes to Steve Harrington, things are different. Always. 

“What should we do first,” Billy asks. Knowing Steve’ll talk when he’s ready.

Harrington parks his car, the last in a long line of hybrids and hatchbacks, near the edge of the park. “I’m looking for honey,” He says, voice pulled tight like an out-of-tune string instrument. In a hurry. One wrong stroke and he’ll snap.

“‘Kay,” Billy says. 

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands once they’re out of the car. He resists the urge to lick his palm for a breath check, knowing he’ll find coffee and burnt toast and filmy pink love; tries to stop himself from tucking his shirt into the waist of his jeans, unfurling into the type of man that stops smoking and goes to Farmer’s Markets every weekend because his best friend asks him to. Against all odds.

Billy trots with Steve over the hill and into the market, his heart in his throat. They find the honey booth quickly and wait in line together, Steve tapping out an impatient rhythm on the cobblestone.

“You’re so squirrely today,” Billy says. He claps a hand on Steve’s neck, trying to squeeze out the tension. Wanting to touch him. 

Steve shrugs him off. 

Dick.

Billy rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms for safe keeping, having learned long ago that his hands will gravitate to Steve Harrington if given the chance. Billy aches for a cigarette, squints into the strengthening sunlight, yearning for his sunglasses, sunscreen, a sun hat–

“Lot of Pride Flags,” Billy says gruffly. His palms sweat, tacking unhelpfully to the hair on his forearms. It’s like he blinked, came up for air, and Indiana got progressive.

Steve stiffens next to him, “It’s June first, I think,” He says, hiding something.

“No shit?” Billy turns just in time to catch Steve watching him, a weird look in his eyes. “Should call Serena this afternoon.”

“Let’s go lesbians,” Steve says, a soft, pink smile on his face. 

Billy wants to ask about Robin, even though he just spoke to her on Wednesday when she called to demand how he keeps his tomato plants blooming into November. He wants to grab Steve by the face and say see, I’m alive. I’m here. I have a garden, and a daughter, and Robin remembers how I used to drink shitty Miller Lite and blast Elton John when you went out with girls. She remembers how much I wanted you. I would carve your name into every piece of driftwood that I threw into the quarry because my skin would scar over. Useless. Old and bereft while the driftwood would float forever, dissolving into the earth with your name sheathed in its very matter, bright and evergreen—

Steve buys two jars of honey.

He buys two of everything, at the Market, one for himself. One for Billy. Billy tries not to think about it.

“Where should we go next,” Steve makes room in the folds of his bag for the first of their loot. 

Billy only ever buys books at this thing. He raises one eyebrow, sidestepping a pair of lesbians that send a shock of tenderness down his spine. Heather and Robin in ‘87. He bites his tongue, though, thinking through their usual haunts. “What about the corn booth?” 

Steve loves sweet corn. He’s a cliche, shrugging his shoulders, “Could do that. We could try something else, too.”

Billy looks at him, grinning, “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

“Well. We started with honey.”

“Yeah.”

“The bakery booth is supposed to be out this week, I heard.” Steve hasn’t shut up about the orange-cranberry muffins he got on a lunch break two weeks ago. He shrugs, thinking better of it. Feigning nonchalance. Billy would fall for it if they hadn’t known each other for years. “Or we could go to the book stand,” Steve says. 

Dangling hope in the starched summer air.

Billy startles a laugh, “Already? We haven’t done your grocery shopping for the week.”

“It’s hot, we don’t have to stay long,” Steve says, watching the crowd thrall around them, “You deserve something for coming out with me today.”

“I come out with you every weekend.”

Steve groans, “C’mon, I’m trying to be nice. Either we go to the book stand, or we’re getting muffins.”

“I’m trying not to eat so much sugar,” A blonde boy skitters into the Market lane, turning to grin past the swell of Billy’s shoulder. There’s a pride flag painted on his cheek bone, smeared delicately by the slide of lips. Billy tries to look away, “Gluten, either.”

Steve gapes, “So you’re not eating sugar or gluten anymore but you’ve never met a cigarette you didn’t like?”

The blonde waits in the sunlight, fingers stretched out in front of him until a boy with huge, soft brown hair knits into all his boyfriend’s empty spaces. 

They kiss. 

Billy looks at Steve, flushed. 

Steve holds his gaze. Finally, “Let’s go to the book stand,” He says, catching Billy off guard. Throwing him a bone.

–

Hawkin’s Public Library was forced, a screaming, tantrum filled child, into the new millennium about a month after Billy and Alice divorced and Serena told the judge she wanted to move back home to Indiana. 

To be with Uncle Steve. That’s what she’d said to the judge. “Daddy and me want Uncle Steve,” Billy had noticed how Alice went ram-rod straight at the name. Like she always did, sour by the way Billy and their daughter, both, couldn’t seem to live without him. “We want to go home.”

So, they went. Alice didn’t try to stop them.

Really, home in the textbook sense was always California. Serena was born in Long Beach. She could stand on a surfboard by the time she was two years old and she abhorred the winter, any item of clothing that sat too close to the base of her neck. The smell of barley. None of that mattered, in the long run. 

Hawkins was home to her. Their clumsy, earnest, well loved vernacular to the court’s stuffy, clinical language.

It didn’t matter to Serena that Indiana was a relic in Billy’s history. She had never moved past sleepy summers spent landlocked, running through sprinklers with Max and Lucas’ wheat-fed kids and eating bomb pops in the swimming pool with a slew of found family aunts and uncles, her halo of blonde ringlets crunchy from too much chlorine. 

Even into her adolescence, the only person she let brush her hair straight out of the pool was her Uncle Steve. The only person she cried to was Uncle Steve. The adult she loved most in the world, except her dad. Maybe.

Billy’s own memories of that time were worn thin. Throbbing with heartache, like a damsel who was bound to find her way back home at the end of some terrible, cruel romantic comedy. He ached on the plane ride to Hawkins. Burned when they moved into the new house. Crumbled as he slept alone every night, grateful in tiny, hidden places that Serena had seemed to process her parent’s divorce and their subsequent move across the country before the first box had been unpacked.

For Billy, things weren’t so easily digested.

He needed time to let the guilt swallow him. The sting of hurt to lick at his fingers. Alice and the tattered flag of their loveless marriage paled in comparison to the way Steve had slipped wordlessly into her place.

It almost killed Billy that they were happier, here. That neither one of them had tried to hold on to their life back in California. 

–

Point is, they used to take Serena to the library together.

Billy’s own mom had believed that books were the key to everything. Children learn by watching colorful characters trail their way through the hills and valleys of friendship. They’re introduced to death and loss in the fold of a page, the monochrome glint of words on yellowing cardstock. They learn to let go by watching someone else do it first. 

Really, Serena hadn’t needed the library. Even at that age she was more level-headed than Billy had been in his entire life, but Steve suggested they go, anyway. “We have to raise a reader, like you.” He’d said. As if Billy was the best thing a person could be.

We.

We have to raise a reader.

–

Hawkins Library sells used books at the Farmer’s Market these days. Budget and funding cuts forcing their hand, Billy caught in a violent spell of fifty-cent paperbacks. 

The memory of Serena holding Steve’s hand, trailing excitedly down every aisle. Even the grown-up ones. Scowling when Steve would snatch every book from her hand, spitting they were, “inappropriate for little girls, Serena.”

Demanding to know when she’d be old enough to read anything with vampires in it.

Billy smiles at the memory, heart fluttering as Steve trails in front of him now in his dorky sun hat, calloused fingers dancing over the spines of every book on the Memoirs shelf. 

Without his salt and pepper showing, and if Steve’s face wasn’t furled in concentration so that his laugh lines gouged deeper into the split around his mouth; Steve looks the same as he always has. 

Billy side-steps another pair of lesbians, running head-first into the LGBTQIA+ Romance section. His heart thuds. He looks around, trying to catalog this territory. Pride flags, Cher playing over a pill-sized bluetooth speaker.

The portable shelf has a flier stuck to it. A disco ball with rainbow streamers falling like wet rags from the words Hawkins Community GSA Presents: Queer Prom. Get Your Tickets at the Booth!

Billy turns, heart in his throat. He watches Steve mouth along to the back of whatever book he’s holding. Catches sight of some president, or something, staring nobly through the break of Steve’s fingers. 

Some twink, sandwiched between the next row of shelves, laughs, and Steve looks up. Catching Billy. He deposits the memoir back on the shelf. “You drug me all the way over here and you haven’t even looked at anything.”

Billy swallows the lump in his throat. “What’s going on, Steve?”

“I don’t know–”

Billy rips the flier from the book shelf, thrusting it into Steve’s wide, waiting palms. 

Steve mouths along to the words. Like he did with the memoir. Like he always has, with the instructions on Betty Crocker Cake Boxes, and the confusing swirl of the How To’s for little girl’s play sets, stretching all the way back to the spring of 1985 when he would pay Billy in saccharine smiles to read Kafka out loud. Write Steve’s essays for him.

“Huh,” Steve flushes bright pink across the bridge of his nose. “Get your tickets at the booth,” He says, artfully avoiding Billy’s gaze, “Cool idea. The instructions aren’t very clear, though, there’s so many booths–”

“You said today was a special occasion,” Billy accuses flatly. It’s getting harder to breathe. “You said you weren’t acting weird, but you’re acting weird, and I–”

“--Will you go to prom with me?” Steve says. Then, Immediately, “I don’t want to freak you out.”

Billy snatches the flier back from him, shaking all over. 

“Okay, alright,” Steve swallows, fingers splayed like Billy’s a junkyard dog who’s backed into a corner. Who’ll attack any minute now. “Look, I just. I thought if I was gonna grow a pair of balls, like. If I was ever gonna do this, I should do it here.”

That doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

Steve inches closer, his lined, aging, familiar, beautiful face open like a sunroof. Like a hole in the sky. “Billy,” Steve says, “Ever since I met you–”

“--What the fuck is going on–”

“--Stop, okay? Just. Let me say this?” Steve waits, patiently, for a confirmation. Billy doesn’t move or breathe or blink. Steve presses forward, “Ever since I met you when I was seventeen years old I thought. You were someone I could spend the rest of my life with.”

Someone exhales all the wind in their lungs. Billy. 

Steve bristles at the sound. He pulls inward, seeming to notice that people are looking at them over the bookshelves with the kind of intensity that puts a basketball court under Billy’s feet. That reminds him of how Steve would defend Billy to the world before he got better.

Before he was worth anyone’s love.

“So,” Steve lifts a hand to his forehead before realizing he’s still in the sun hat. He takes it off, “I had a speech,” He tells the sun hat, folding the brim between two fingers. Hair a mess but still perfect. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“I think I’ll pass out,” Billy admits earnestly.

“I’d catch you,” Steve says, so. Billy takes a timid step forward, flinching out of his skin when Steve looks up and says, “I’m in love with you.”

Once upon a time, Billy thought the world would collapse if they said those words out loud.

It doesn’t.

“So,” Billy rasps, wringing the flier in his fist, “You thought. You could ask me to prom?”

“We didn’t get to go to prom when we were kids.”

“You went with Nancy,” Billy snaps, strangling the flier. “You danced. I watched you dance–”

“--We didn’t get to go together.”

“You wanted to go to prom with me?”

“Of course. Billy, I moved to California because I was in love with you.” Steve says, like just saying it out loud points to the bread-crumb trail of what they’ve been dancing around for all these years. Like ah-ha. Checkmate.

Billy sniffs. Something wet on his cheeks. “You left California.”

“Because I was in love with you.” Steve nods slowly, “You. You met Alice, and. I thought–”

“--I can’t go to gay prom with you, Steve.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye, used to Billy’s flair for the dramatic. “Why not?”

“Because,” Billy says, looking around desperately. All he finds are lesbians and twinks weaving in and out of the aisles, caught in their own little crystal-clear worlds, useless. “Because I’m in my fifties. And so are you.”

“The event is all ages,” Steve tells him, bored, “Well. Really it’s for old people. Because we never got to have one.”

And. 

The fact that Steve went to prom with Nancy, that he bought flowers and pinned a satin pink corsage to her dress, holding her hand while they danced under seafoam lights, but it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Who he wanted–

Billy sniffs. Trying to stamp out the fire in his chest. “I have a mortgage and and a tomato garden, and a daughter in New York–”

“--This was Serena’s idea,” Steve admits suddenly. “She’s the one who sent me the information on Facebook.”

Of course.

Billy nods, “You’re wearing a sunhat.” His chest, opening like a springtime rose. Stupid. “You can’t say you love me and then ask me to prom when you’re wearing–”

“I took it off,” Steve says. A smile in his voice.

“I stopped smoking for you,” Bill accuses. 

Steve snorts, “Like you aren’t gonna finish the pack first.”

Billy laughs, and it’s wet-sounding. It rattles in his chest and then bursts into the air between them, somehow pulling Steve across the cobblestone. He pushes Billy’s hair back from his face, fiddling with the same earring that’s been there for forty years. Changed only once, for prom.

Billy looks at him. Catalogs the years, the love that grew like ivy over everything else. He hiccups, “I never thought you’d love me back.”

“Of course I love you back.”

“But,” He says, thinking of how their lives could have been so different, “Why–”

“--We can have this,” Steve tells him, pulling Billy close. “We deserve this.”

Another thing Billy will have to settle into. 

It’s nice. He wants to kiss Steve, so he does, because Hawkins has turned into the kind of place that hosts gay prom, where lesbians and twinks roam freely in their little rainbow outfits. 

Steve licks into Billy’s mouth and they melt into each other, gone soft by the years, and the heat of June. When Steve pulls away, his lips press like stamps to Billy’s forehead, his chin, both eyes, his mustache–

Billy giggles. “We should get our tickets.”

“I already have them,” Steve says.

Billy pulls back, gawking.

“I ordered them online.”

“You know how to order things online?”

“Serena ordered them,” Steve says, shrugging. 

And.

Billy grunts. Wanting to say that he could’ve said no. He’s still himself, after all, smoke free organic or not, but. Steve knits their fingers together, “C’mon,” He says, and Billy doesn’t ask where they’re going next. It doesn’t matter. 

They’ve been in love since they were seventeen. Billy’s just happy that it gets to live out in the open, now. Glittery with pride.

[neonovember]

Golden Boy

part two to this request

warnings: suggestive content, miscommunication, angst if you are a tortured poet, highschool love, protective!carmen, touch depirved!carmen, mention of death

w/c: 2.8k

a/n: okay, okay, yes i know i said this would be a two part series, but god i have too much to say and it didn’t feel right to cram it into two parts. Also i wanted to add a little smut snippet and of course that required its own chapter??

The ring of the Beef doors resound through the murmur of the kitchen, the lunch time rush had dissolved to a quiet pull, regulars coming in for their pick up orders and the occasional customer seated in one of the back booths.

The soothing quiet the crew had been relishing just moments ago is interrupted by the familiar boom of Richie’s voice and the loud bang of the cartons of produce he’d left on the counter.

“Guess who the fuck I ran into down at the Market” Richie yells, beaming with the kind of smile you’d only have with the worlds biggest secret on your tongue.

The crew gathers at the kitchen station, hands rubbing tired eyes as the work day slugged on.

“What, Richie?” Sydney humours him, throwing the last of the chopped vegetables into a pot to slow cook, wiping her hand on her shoulder towel as she looks up at Richie.

“Our very own Bug” Richie replies, eyes glinting as they watch the white linen shirt of Carmen’s back stop suddenly. 

Carmen pauses, the sound of his knife falling with a clank. It takes a moment for him to turn around and face Richie, partly because he doesn’t want to meet the goofy pull of his features that told him he was playing around and partly because he doesn't want to face that what Richie said might be true. 

But he faces him anyway, because he always will for you.

“What? You saw a bug? Really Richie, you had to come all this way--” Sydney groans out, pressing a finger between her eyebrows, smoothing out the skin that has begun to wrinkle there.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot you guys don’t know her”

“Her? You got a little lady you've been keeping from us Richie?” Tina replies playfully, swatting a towel towards Richie who barely dodges it.

Carmen coughs abruptly at Tina’s comment, in which Richie bites back a grin, before raising an arm up in surrender.

“She’s an old friend of the family, Carmen and her used to be real close in High school. Come to think of it, she was your only friend actually, and was way out of your league” Richie says with a condescending tone, there is a look of thoughtfulness on Richie's face like he's actually thinking about Carmen’s high school experiencing and remembering the clear lack of friends he's had beside you.

The sound of cat calls and oooh’s resounds throughout the kitchen, the crew coddling this small but rare piece of information about Carmen’s past. Carmen wasn’t exactly conversational, whilst he regarded the crew as his flesh and blood that didn’t stop him from keeping a lot of himself and his past hidden. There was always the air of mystery that followed Carmen Berzatto, and it seemed the persona was about to deteriorate as a look of anger flashes across Carmen's face.

“Oh fuck you Cousin, She never even liked you” Carmen replies defensively, before the realisation that you were in town hits him full force.

“How did we not know this, I mean no offence Carm, but you didn’t seem like the type to be..open to friends” Sydney voices, the look of shock not hidden from her voice

“It was different with her, right? I didn't have to- she was- it was just different” Carmen mumbles, the visions of you seem to take over Carmen's mind, like visors, all he can see now is you. The curve of your neck, the smell of Lavender and shea butter from your mothers garden and your lotion. Carmen can almost taste it again, and its reminder has him craving you in a way that was all too dangerous for a man like him.

Especially since you were back in town, maybe not even a block away from him, holy fuck, you were back in town.

“Wait, uh, she’s in town?” Carmen replies, sheepishly, scratching his neck in nervousness that didn't go unnoticed by the crew. 

Carmen? Nervous? About a girl? Oh this was good.

“She came down for work, designing a whole piece of Madison Avenue. Think she’s staying for a little while” Richie replies “You should ask her when she comes tomorrow, you guys still talk..right?’ 

“Yeah uh, ‘course” Carmen mumbles, a feeling of grief washes over him like a wave, and without blinking, without a shudder of a breath you consume him again.

*

The New York winter was brutal, nothing like the December’s in Chicago, and the thought causes a grumble of cold air to leave Carmen’s mouth. Carmen couldn't help comparing everything in New York to the city he ran from, it was a habit akin to a shadow he couldn’t shake off.

Swarms of yellow cabbed taxis and car’s move through the city streets painfully slow, splashing waves of dirty street snow onto the frosted sidewalk. The rush of strangers wrapped in a decade of layers, the protective wool and fleece wrapping their hands and necks, make their way back to their apartment and homes, eager to feel the warmth of fireplaces and heaters and escape the ice cold snap of the unforgiving winds and falling snow. 

Carmen should be making his way home, in fact if he hadn’t stopped abruptly at the scene in front of the open pane window of a shop, he'd had felt the warmth of his century old apartment heater  by now. Walking back would be the right thing to do, it would be the sensible thing, but Carmen wasn’t known for his sensibility and recklessness was all he knew. Especially when it comes to you, always when it comes to you. 

So Carmen has found himself, stood stationary, looking rather strange in the middle of the street as city goers grumble and step around him, looking into the dimly lit art studio cramped between a Chinese takeout shop and a fabric store.

There you were, crouched in a chair, scribbling on a canvas across a wide workbench, papers and pens scattered messily in front of you. You haven't changed one bit, and maybe it had felt like centuries ago for Carmen when in fact it had only been a couple years but it was as if someone had taken a picture of his memories of you and placed it in front of him. 

You were so beautiful, it stole Carmen's breath away, it skipped the rhythmic beat of his heart and caused it to hammer against his chest in that nervous way you’ve always made him feel. Even surrounded by papers and stained coffee mugs and the drag of stress and sleep deprivation weighing on your sunken shoulders you are the most beautiful thing Carmen has ever, and will ever see. 

Were you real? Carmen’s feet are stone, like if he steps through the doors, if he moves even an inch you'll slip between his fingers and disappear from his vision again. He has to see you, he has to apologise and tell you everything that has happened, he has to feel your head resting against his shoulder, he needs to fall back into the gentle rhythm you both shared before it was lost to time again.

But before Carmen can move from his spot on the sidewalk, before he can even catch your gaze, he watches, in horror, as a tall haired man walks over, dressed in a brown knitted sweater and slacks that looked simple in the expensive way, and wraps his arms around you before behind.

His heart shatters completely, and he can't stop himself from watching on, you throw your head back with a laugh, hugging him back with a grin as he whispers into the nook of your neck and it's the twist of the knife in his stomach, tearing the entirety of its contents onto the sidewalk, staining the frosted pavement crimson with his innards. 

And it was like Carmen was 15 again. Seeing one of his classmates ask you to prom before he could even utter those words, watching the way you danced effortlessly in his hands beneath the gleam of the disco ball above. Your date had two left feet, and Carmen wanted to rip him off of you and replace his skittish dance moves. Carmen wanted to give you what you deserved instead of a football jock who couldn’t make you laugh.

That same childlike feeling of anger and jealousy spreads through him, that was sood replaced with anguish. He had lost you, he had waited too goddamn long and had lost you. What the fuck was he doing? How did he think he could just walk through those doors and stumble into your life again, and somehow fall back into the same familiarity of your friendship like nothing had changed? 

Carmen had done stupid things before, but Carmen had felt utterly foolish then. You were mystifying, of course you would be in a relationship, there were probably hundreds of men that threw themselves at you, and it wasn't like you were waiting for him.

The memory of saying goodbye to you was still fresh, he could remember the time when you turned your back to him, and the same way the sun shone through the hallways windows when you turned your neck to meet his gaze for the final time. 

He could remember what he had for breakfast, cereal with not enough milk and an apple, he could remember how he had two different pairs of socks on, one itching him throughout the day, he could remember the feeling of the ingrained drawings of your Geography teacher’s sketchbook, he could remember the way you looked at him when he told you to promise him not to say goodbye. 

He remembered it all like it was the day he died.

That day had been marked into his body and mind, into his subconscious until it was all that consumed him. Wherever he was, he looked for you, he searched and yearned for you in crowds and lines for coffee, in the driver's seat of cars next to him stood stationary at the traffic lights. 

Everytime he closed his eyes all he could see was the way you looked at him like you didn't believe him and it broke something, because it had been true. Carmen had promised to see you again, and he lied, and that late New York evening, it was like Carmen had died a second time.

And just like at 17, Carmen makes peace with watching you on the sidelines, bottling up any feelings he had for you in fear it would ruin everything you both shared. You were his greatest friend, and he couldn't allow himself to be selfish, not when you were you, and he was him. He didn't deserve you, and it didn't matter how hard he yearned for you because you were too good for him.

And it’s that thought that causes him to step away from his spot on the sidewalk, the imprint of his boots marking a spot on the concrete where the fallen snow hadn't touched yet, before it’s soon covered in the white flesh of frost, hiding that he was ever there.

From that moment on, Carmen watches you from afar, the unyielding desire to ensure you were safe at all times consuming him until his protective gaze fell over you like a blanket. He had kept up with your moves, silently cheering you on with each award and recognition you received throughout the years, whilst he himself began to climb the culinary ladder, or knife. He had never let his eyes waver, and then Mickey died and he came running back to Chicago with his things and a broken heart.

“Yeah, you all will meet her tomorrow at the dinner” Richies words cause Carmen to shake himself from his vision, what did he just say?

“You, You did what?” Carmen questions, unable to keep the shrill from his voice as the crew look towards him in confusion.

“Yeah I invited her, it’ll be like a catch up for the fam, she could see all the work I’ve done and see how you haven't changed-”

“Fuck Cousin, you- you should’ve told me before, now i got to make sure everyone has something to eat, and- and i got to add a a second chair” Carmen begins to mumble out, running a hand through his curls stressfully as he began to pace around the kitchen.

“Hey, Carmen relax, we've got room for one more person” Richie chuckles

“Wow, Jeff, just the sound of this girl’s name has got you shitting bricks. I think someones in loveeee” Tina singsongs with a grin, but there was something soft behind her eyes, in fact everyone in the kitchen smiled with a hint of happiness at Carmen's behaviour.

They had thought their Chef was closed off to love, and having felt its strength, each of them in their own ways tried to get Carmen out there, whether it be blind dates or meet cute’s, but it never worked out, and Carmen had always kept that part of life secret from even Richie and Sugar.

It seemed now, that you had been the mysterious woman that had stolen Carmen's heart, and they were giddy with excitement to finally meet the person who had gotten Carmen Berzatto scared shit less.

“Hey Cousin, why don’t you help me unload the rest of the cartons from the truck?” Richie replies, a subtle way of getting Carmen out of the kitchen and into a space that had fewer faces watching his every move.

“Yeah, uh okay” Carmen replies, following Richie to the back of the Bear, resting his back against the brick wall of the alleyway.

There is a silence that stretches between Richie and Carmen at that moment that Richie would usually fill with slanted jokes or rambles. But even Richie knew you were a sensitive topic for Carmen, and he waited patiently for him to approach the topic on both of your minds.

“So, we haven’t spoken in nearly 8 years and she's coming tomorrow to my restaurant” Carmen replies, and Richie nods along.

Carmen shakes his head scoffing, looking up at Richie with a look of fear and embarrassment and elated happiness all in one.

“I don’t know what i’m gonna do Cousin, I- I don’t know what to do with myself with her, fuck what if ruin everything?” 

“Hey, hey easy, I was poking fun at you before but you and her, that was something else entirely that the rest of the Family would never come close to understanding. When you were together, it was like, it was like I could see the anxiety and stress physically leave you, you fucking laughed with her Carm, when you weren’t in the mood to even smile, even after everything you’d see her and it was like nothing else mattered, like no one else mattered.

I mean, the whole family was betting on you both running off and getting eloped, you were both in your own bubble, and did not give a shit about anybody else.” Richie chuckles, resting a hand on Carm’s shoulder to stop him from pacing.

Carmen looks up at him with furrowed eyebrows, pressing his canines into his lips

“What if she doesn't want to speak to me?, Ya know, what if she came for- for you and Sugar and-and she doesn't even want to see me” Carmen rambles, fear taking over any sense

“Are you kidding Carmen? You both hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade and she still said yes to coming to the fucking Beef of all places on a Friday. She wants to see you, Carm, you've just been too stupid to see it, you've always been.” Richie replies, shaking Carmen like he was trying to shake the sense into him.

“You know what you have to do now, right?” Richie says, when you've both rested on one of the stools, lighting a cigarette for warmth against the bite of the cold.

“I’ve got to make tomorrow fucking perfect, thats what I’ve got to do. Which is almost impossible for this goddamn place” Carmen groans out, taking a drag from the wrapped tobacco stick.

Richie lets out a laugh, rubbing his stomach as he leans against the brick layered wall.

“Don’t know about that, they just might for her” Richie replies, before getting off of the stool, dusting his jeans and walking towards the pick up truck.

“Where are you going?” Carmen calls out

“You thought I was kidding about these boxes? Chop chop cousin, we gotta get them in before it fucking rains” Richie yells back, letting out a laugh at Carmens loud groan.

[cha-melodius]

For the snippet game: 💚 (magic kiss) for FirstPrince

Also can't wait to read the next chapter of the spy-soulmate au. You're a genius. What an au!

(I already did one magic kiss that you can find here, so here's a bit of a different version. thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this little fairytale! read all the kiss ficlets)

Alex stumbles toward the edge of the lake, toward the rushes that gather there and the glimmering water beyond. He knows he’s dying, that’s not in question, but the animal instincts in his brain refuse to give up. He’s just so thirsty, and maybe if he gets a swallow of water, he’ll be able to gather enough strength to get to the village healer. Who will absolutely not be able to do anything for the wound currently stretching across his abdomen.

He’s so delirious, he doesn’t even realize who’s lake he’s approaching until he’s slumping to the soft, damp ground on the shore. His knees press into the mud as he shakily draws the clear water to his mouth over and over again, though it makes no difference to his thirst.

“Alex?” comes a familiar, musical voice. One that’s filled his ears and his dreams since he was a small child who ignored his family’s warnings not to go near the lake. He looks up into blue eyes as deep and clear as the lake itself, now wide and filled with fear as they take in Alex’s state. Henry comes closer and reaches out, pressing a hand to Alex’s wound. When he pulls it back, the bright red blood stands out starkly against skin so pale it’s almost translucent. “What happened?”

“Bandits,” Alex coughs. Normally, he’d be able to handle himself, but not when it’s ten against one. “I was coming home from the market and they got the drop on me.”

“Oh, darling,” Henry murmurs as he presses a gentle hand to Alex’s cheek. His long blond hair hangs wet over his shoulders and spreads into the lake, where it mingles with Alex’s blood in the water.

“Don’t suppose you can do anything?” Alex ventures, though he knows it’s a long shot. He shudders, curling in on himself. “‘M so cold.”

Henry bites his full, pink lip, a furrow appearing between his brows. “I could save your life in exchange for a kiss.”

Alex may have struck up an unexpected friendship with a water spirit, but that doesn’t mean he’s ignorant to their dangers. He smiles a little. “What’s the catch?”

“You’ll belong to me,” Henry says softly. “Forever.”

“Is that all?” Alex replies with a harsh, wet laugh. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” Henry protests.

“I understand well enough.” Alex summons what’s left of his strength and reaches out for Henry, though he can’t manage to pull him any closer. His thumb presses to the inside of Henry’s wrist, but the only pulse that thrums there is his own, steadily weakening. “I already belong to you. Forever. Just kiss me. Please.”

Henry’s lips part as he stares at Alex in shocked disbelief, but then he’s moving, pulling Alex into the lake. The frigid water knocks the remaining air from Alex’s lungs and he has to fight against the survival instincts that tell him to fight Henry’s grasp, but Henry’s not dragging him down to drown him like all the stories warn. Henry’s holding him close to keep him safe, and when their lips finally meet, Alex feels warmth flood back into his body despite the coolness of Henry’s skin against his.

Alex chases his lips when Henry tries to pull away, kisses him longer and harder like he’s wanted to for so long, not because of Henry’s beauty but also his intelligence and his humor and his heart. Because Alex loves him, and has since the first day he met a young Henry by the lake, though it took him a while to realize it. For a moment Henry just lets himself be kissed, but then something seems to snap and he’s kissing Alex back just as fiercely, and the warmth grows between them until Alex realizes it’s not just him that’s warm—Henry is, too.

That finally makes Alex pull out of the kiss, frowning at the water spirit. “Henry, what…?”

In answer, Henry grabs his wrist and presses Alex’s palm over his chest to feel the steady thud of a heartbeat that wasn’t there before. 

“Magic is tricky,” he says with a little, cautious smile. “I belong to you too, love.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

New Year Blues | Yandere Shoto Todoroki

The glow of the extended break was beginning to fade. The city's typical hustle and bustle has returned with an air of dread. The employees of various companies begrudgingly returned to their grave-like posts. The only one unaffected seemed to be a little girl on a cashmere carpet happily engaging in a reenactment of a successfully violent coup 'de tat. Her hair was in an intricate set of braids beautifully highlighting the few and far between pearly white strands. A slither of color from her father's hair. It was one of the only telling signs that they were related at all. That and the shape of her nose. Otherwise she'd been told she was like her other parent.

That brought a kind of comfort to Shoto. A comfort only a divorced Father could understand. The ache he fostered when met with those familiar eyes. Or the mannerisms he could spot a mile away.

Any other divorcee would have to be fighting their own mixed emotions of disdain, regret, and pain but not Shoto. No, because Shoto was different than most if not everyone. Shoto wouldn't give up.

"Papa, will you play with me?"

"Sorry, Snowbell, I'm waiting for someone special."

The girl sighed as she collected her scattered toys," If it's who I think it is, I should start packing up."

"You do not have to, I have all the time to wait."

"Maybe you do but they don't."

That caught his attention, "They don't?"

From his position on his armchair he brought a tentative fist to his mouth; concealing a hidden expression as his daughter explained.

"Yeah, the guys we've been hanging out with sometimes. The ones with the long black hair and the redhead with the creepy smile."

His daughter's nonchalant response fed wood to the flame Shoto had started. Like burning ethanol it was silent and unseen; quickly preparing to singe the remains of his distastes. He took a drag out of a sleek container, barely inhaling the crystallized dust from within. He hides a clearing sniff with a cough into his hand. Placing the container back in his suit pocket, he coughed into the fist of his hand as he smoothed over the small lump in his suit's chest pocket. The potential energy coursing through his veins made for an easy comfort. The crystalline chemical bubbling within his blood made enduring the pain that much easier with the thoughts of his latest power.

Shoto Todoroki was no average divorced Father, he was also one of the selected owners of the latest leap in human technology. With a simple sniff, the latest creation allowed those with quirks to strengthen their abilities while adding more. It wasn't approved and will never be by most governments but that just meant more freedom for those in the market for them.

And all the time in the world to do as he pleased.

"Papa you have to use the girl voice!"

He chuckled, "But I don't have one."

She pouted. "Yes, you do!

They went back and forth, successfully distracting them both from the impending arrival they both had been celebrating. Only remembering the ring of the grand bell on the home's double door's ringing throughout the home.

"Still in your PJs....don't tell me your father conveniently let you play with your gifts again…at the exact time I’ve come to pick you up?"

"But he played with me this time."

A pensive glare was shot past the little girl's head at the man gathering dolls on the floor. Rolling of eyes returned to their soft and endearing gaze on the little girl.

Scooped into loving arms and endless kisses Yuki could only return in half. She barely registered the ghost of a smile on her Father's face as he put back her dolls all wrong. She'd have to spend ten extra minutes reorganizing them. How unfortunate.

"Hope you had a Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

Scoffing it didn't take long for Yuki's other parent to cross the threshold, to help the little girl pack. Shoto hovered nearby, picking at the nerves he once was married to in his own childish game of keep-away.

"Happy Hannukah to you too, slug."

It was endearing in its special way. The opposite greetings and the derogatory nickname. In a moment of peace, Shoto was told it was because some slugs were a myriad of patterns and colors like his hair. He was also told that they could be poisonous. What he remembers most though-is that (Y/n) hates slugs.

"My chef fixed more than enough food for me. You know how often I'm out, would you mind taking some of it off my hands?"

An innocent question. Was met with a sneer and a judgmental look down and up his person.

As if they didn't already know him from top to bottom. 

"We'll be fine. We have plenty of snacks at home."

After a lengthy trip up the marble stairs, once again the divorced couple were folding their daughter's clothes side by side. Shoto stole a glance or two at the face of his former partner. Biting back the urge to compliment such an enticing side profile, he took a more tactical approach.

"I heard you've been entertaining some...new company."

"If this is your way of getting me to talk to you I suggest you pick something else."

"I'm serious," he took the folded pants out of their clutches placing them in the small suitcase below. "tell me."

A spiteful glare and his silent urging lowered a wall closed to him more often now. Watching with joy and resentment as a genuine smile appeared.

"I've been making some new and interesting friends lately."

"Friends?"

"Yes. Back in the day you know I wasn't allowed many other than yours."

The jab hurt him more than he expected. Reminded of all the arguments centered around this exact topic. He hid it well behind his apathetic gaze hiding the flutter in his movements.

"But now that I'm able to make them I...actually have more fun during the off-days."

"That's good."

He refuses to let it show how much it irks him that the beauty of that beloved smile wasn't caused by him. He thought it better to change the subject but Yuki had decided to join with her own two-sense.

"It's real good. Especially since they show me new tricks all the time."

"New Tricks?"

"Yeah," she added her improperly folded socks into the bag. ", Lumi is always teaching me cool things and giving me gifts."

"Yuki..."

The warning was clear in their tone but Shoto pressed.

"What kind of gifts?"

"The kind that cut people real good!"

"Yuki, what'd I say about describing cooking utensils that way?"

"Not to say it like that but Nark says it was cute."

Shoto held back a groan, "Nark?"

Before anyone else could speak Yuki had abandoned the task of folding to jump over the suitcase and onto the bed. Successfully stomping all over the unfolded clothes, clumsily trudging towards her Father with a smile on her face.

"Mister Shalnark is a master at video games!"

The way her face lit up made Shoto grit his teeth as he listened to her rattling off all the achievements this other man had.

"He has the coolest setup! He's got a 5K 18-inch rounded screen! With a light-up keyboard that matches the beat of whatever song you want to play!"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah and he's always lets me play during the movie nights and-"

"Yuki!"

The scolding had Yuki bashfully looking down. Shoto was curious if he'd have been able to hear any more than that. As instructed Yuki was told to get down from the bed and help pack the rest of her suitcase.

Sooner than he would have liked Yuki was safely strapped in her car seat dozing into a nap while Shoto barely assisted with the remaining luggage.

"Now we're leaving," (Y/n) heaved a large Teddy bear in the back of their trunk, "finally."

With a final huff, they returned to the driver's side of the door, where Shoto was waiting. He had a small gift bag in his hand and a polite smile on his face.

"While I'm sure you're busy to get back to your-" He rolled his eyes at the name. "-friends. I have a gift for you."

(Y/n) gave a blank stare that had Shoto hurriedly handing the gift bag over.

"Think of it as a Happy New Year’s gift."

"Wow, it’s....keys for a new snowmobile. Yay."

"Keep looking. There's more."

More unraveling of gift wrapping tissue revealed a slip of paper holding more weight than an average civilian's salary without being more than a feather.

"An all-expenses-paid trip to the 'Elite Lodging within the Wintergreen Domesphere’....that's a great gift–"

That brought a smile to Shoto's face which immediately dropped the second he got the look. The look he's gotten far too often since his separation.

"For your partner but I'm not...not anymore."

(Y/n) dropped the key and the ticket back into the bag. With a pitying smile, they pushed the bag back into his chest waiting for him to gingerly cradle it in his hands. Refusing to watch him sulk (Y/n) turned back to their car opened the door and got their seat belt on. With their hands on the steering wheel, they sent a worried glance at him through the window.

His head was hanging low, his two-toned fringe bangs covering his eyes and the pained expression that was on his face. What (Y/n) could see was how Shoto’s ungloved hands held the gift bag.

Holding wasn't the right word. More like squeezing. Fearing the violent warning of small clear ice gleaming against the bag (Y/n) turned off the property promptly.

Hoping what they saw was a figment of their imagination.

_______

Not all employees dreaded their return to the workplace. Some are basking in the afterglow of the holiday season. Fulfilled with the love of their family and friends and constantly reminded of their latest gifts it may be hard for some to put anything less than a smile on their face.

“Hiya Boss!” Said an excited minion, with black hair, and brown almond eyes. Waving in tandem with their glowing smile it felt natural during this time. 

FWOOSH.

For what felt natural at a moment of happiness was a crime in the eyes of an angered Todoroki Shoto. Even the few screams and sounds of rushing steps in the direction of the blazing employee weren’t enough to rouse the raging villain. 

On a warpath, he did the gentleman’s stomp – a directed speed walk–forcing his employees to guess his foul mood from the distant fire he was leaving behind. 

The slam of the door alerted his other partners of the raging villain, varying many different reactions. 

“So my guess is they turned you down?”

One such reaction was from his brother, who covered a dry laugh as he rubbed a hand against his beard. His feet were on the long, oval-shaped table taking the place in front of him; whereas others had files of paperwork instead. Blistered hands were behind his head sporting another shade of dye than last month. If Todoroki was in a better mood he’d have insulted him on it but he feared what crossed his mind was plenty more violent.

“Do you need to be here? This is an important meeting.”

His brother sighed, “Yeah, who else is going to stop you from burning up your branch leaders?”

Todoroki let his piercing glare shift to the attending employees, who refused to look anywhere but him suddenly finding the the wooden taint of the table incredibly interesting. The smirk from his brother made him groan, adjusting his tie before speaking. 

“All of you. Dismissed until next Week. Same time.”

As soon as he finished speaking the branch leaders hurriedly shot from their seats and ran to the exit of the conference room. Leaving nothing but an abandoned plate of bagels and a few pens Todoroki was alone once again. 

“Hey, are you going to sit here and sulk all day? That was all you had to do today, right?”

Alone with his brother. 

“It was.”

“Then you should go! Do something that will get the edge off.”

Todoroki made an exasperated face, making his brother sigh again. Bouncing from his seat the now-green-haired brother took Todoroki under his arm shaking him as he poked his finger into his chest.

“Like maybe cutting down those new ‘friends’ that have been bothering you!”

Todoroki removed the arm from around his shoulder, walking across the room towards the exit. Smoothly dodging the hand that reached for the back of his jacket. 

“I can’t it’s too obvious. They told me they wouldn’t speak to me again if I did that too.”

“Hmm.” His brother held his chin, stroking his beard as he thought. Todoroki shook his head, reaching for the door stopping when his brother snapped his fingers. 

“Hey! Why don’t you take it out on those ‘extras’ that have been watching them lately?”

Todoroki hesitated. “But I was planning on saving that for when it escalated…”

His brother waved his hand and blew an indignant puff of air past his lips. 

“Please, they would just be suspicious that way too. Do yourself a favor and treat yourself! The New Year can’t start with you being so glum!” 

Todoroki returned his gaze to the door handle he’d been holding for a while. He released his grip, revealing the misshapen handle that matched the shape of his fist. It brought a smile to his face.

“Thank you, Natsuo. I think I’ll do that.”

“No problem little brother have a good New Year.”

[justmeinadaze]

Can I request a steddie fix basically it’s the end of season 4 where reader is saying Eddie and they’re really in love and he does in the upside down and Steve has to like drag her out. Then maybe something happens in the future where Steve comforts her and then end up sleeping together and dating and then maybe they figure out how to get back into the upside down and Kas Eddie/Eddie ( who survived ) see them together and gets jealous and yeah whatever from there :)

I hope I did you justice! :)

Mine (Vampire Eddie X Y/N)

Warnings: Vampire Eddie X Human Fem Reader, SMUT, of the rougher variety between Eddie and Y/N, biting (of course), mentions of drinking blood on both sides, brief mentions of intimacy between Steve and reader, ANGST, Reader dreams of Eddie's death multiple times, Eddie is definitely jealous and possessive especially at first. mentions of events in the show, mentions on grief and the pain of losing a partner (feeling numb, lost).

Word Count: 3246

“No! No, Steve, please!”

“Y/N, we can’t stay here! We have to go back!”

“We can’t leave him here! Please! I love him!”

You bolt upright in your bed, screaming Eddie’s name as the upside down faded around you and your room fully came into view. 

It had only been a few months since your battle with Vecna but the nightmares were still consistent. It played out the same every time. Eddie riding away from you with one of the bikes that had been abandoned out front. You catching up to him just as the bats were swarming him. You trying to fight with him only to be pinned down as well. Hearing the sound of his screams as they bit into him while you waited for your turn.

Just as you were about to be their next meal, the storm dissipated and there was a loud crashing thud as the bats fell from the sky. You crawled over to him and tenderly turned his face to meet yours as you watched him struggle through the pain. 

“Baby…baby, please. I love you so much. Just hang on, ok?”

“Okay.” His eyes scanned over you as his shaky fingers caressed the reddening skin around your neck. “Idiot.”, he chuckled, coughing on his blood.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”, you forced a smile.

“Mine.”, he whispered with a smile of his own.

The gang found you guys like that and you begged Steve to save him, to bring him back with you but he couldn’t. They didn’t have the strength to carry all of you through. The girls helped maneuver Dustin while Steve lifted you in his arms. 

“STEVE! NO!! NO PLEASE!”

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry.”, he cried. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Rising to your feet, you shuffle into the bathroom and get ready to begin your day. 

***

Every day since your boyfriend Eddie Munson had died felt like it dragged on into eternity without him there to make you laugh or smile. You missed his corny jokes or his passion when he would tell you about a D&D campaign he was working on. You constantly felt like you were living in a trance, walking around on autopilot as you did your job at the local Hawkins market before heading home to curl up in bed where you would put on one of his shirts and cry yourself to sleep. You prayed you would dream about his arms wrapped around you or his soft kisses and whispers of adoration that warmed your heart but every night the dream remained the same. 

“Hey honey.”

“Shit.”, you jumped as you dropped the stock you were holding. “Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“No, no. It’s ok. I should have cleared my throat or something. You seemed kind of lost in thought.”

“Yeah…I always am these days. I just—”

“You miss him. I understand that.”, he sighs as he bends down to help pick up some of the boxes that had fallen from your grasp. “Dustin misses him to. Today I went over to his place and he tried to explain some of his nerdy game to me. It just, woooo, went right over my head.”, he chuckles before offering you a soft smile. “But I’m trying, ya know.”

“You’re a good man, Steve Harrington.”

“Y/N, I was thinking, how much do you know about Eddie’s game?”

“Dungeons & Dragons? Oof Not enough to actually play but he always explained it to make sense.”, you giggle at the memory. 

“Do you want to maybe come over or I can come to you and you can just give me a quick rundown? That way Dustin and I can play.”

“Um… yeah. I don’t see why not. I get off at about 7.”

***

The two of you giggled as Steve poured you another glass of whiskey while you tried going over the information you gave him again. 

“Ok so if Kas is a vampire then why did Max make fun of me when I thought Vecna was?!”

“Because at the time, goof, we didn’t know what he was. Plus, if he was a vampire we’d see more of the people we lost.” Your mood shifts as the realization of what you said sunk in. “Eddie always liked Kas… I think he used him in that last campaign he did with Hellfire. They thought Kas had killed Vecna but he was still alive. Well, till the team finished him off. I mean Lady Applejack.”, you smile as you take a sip of your beverage. 

“Lady Applejack?”

“Erica.”

“Oh. I like that. That’s cute.”, Steve grins. “Did you have a name?”

“Eddie always said I was Y/N the Devine. My character would be an oracle who could see the future.”, you laughed. “He always thought it was funny I could remember all my dreams. He said if anything ever happened to him…he’d talk to me through them.”

Placing his drink on the table, the man beside you collects you into his strong arms as you sob. 

“It’s ok, Y/N. Everything’s ok.”

“I miss him so much, Steve.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t get him back to you.”

Wiping your eyes, you lean back as you sigh, scanning the man over as he reached for his glass and chugged back what was left inside. Drunk on the liquor and your grief, you didn’t think twice as your palm grasped Steve’s chin, turning him to face you, and crashing your lips to his. 

“Y/N…Y/N wait. W-What are you doing?”, he breathed as he hovered near your mouth, his hand petting your head as he moved your hair away from your face. 

“I’m sorry. I just…I just wanted to feel something other then my pain for once. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Lifting you in his arms, he carried you to his bedroom, and made love to you till you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

Your eyes shot open at the sound of thunder, red lightening briefly illuminating the sky before it disappeared behind the black clouds. You could still feel Steve’s arms around your hip but something wasn’t right. His room seemed darker and grungier than when you fell asleep. 

As your gaze shifted around taking everything in, you were startled by a figure at the end of the bed. 

“E-E-Eddie?”

His long hair was blocking most of his face but you could just barely make out his lips formed into a thin line. His outfit was torn and caked in blood where the bats had bit into him. A low growl left his throat before he turned around and slowly left the room. 

Quickly, you threw off the covers, grabbing one of Steve’s shirts and throwing it over your head as you followed him down the stairs. When you turned a corner into the kitchen, he was suddenly gone.

“Eddie? Baby, where are you?”

In the blink of an eye, a hand grabbed your arm, turning you around roughly and pinning you to the wall. You panicked for only a moment, reaching out to caress his face.

“I-It’s me, baby. Do you remember? Y/N?!” As you began to cry, his hand released you just long enough to dry you tears with his fingers. “I miss you so much. Sometimes…sometimes I wish I had died with you.”

Snaking his palm to the back of your head, his thumb was still long enough to run along your bottom lip.

“Mine.”

Your eyes shot open as you began to scream, scaring Steve awake as he tried to calm you. 

“Y/N! It’s ok! Everything’s ok! You’re safe, honey…you’re safe.”, he cooed as he held you to his chest. 

“He…he…he was here, Steve. Eddie was here. I saw him. He was right here in your room.”

“Y/N, it was just a dream. You’re alright.”

“No! No…”, you cried as you jumped out of bed and flew down his stairs. Your eyes scanned his kitchen but everything was as it had been last night. When you turned back around you were met with concerned honey eyes. “I’m not crazy, Steve! I swear…I could feel him. He was so cold and he smelled metallic like blood. We have to go back.”

“What? Y/N, no.”, the man said sternly as he grabbed your arm. After glaring at his hand, he immediately let you go but hurriedly followed after you as you ran back up the stairs to get your clothes. “You can’t go there alone.”, he sighed as he began getting put together as well. 

“Steve, I’ll be fine—”

“This isn’t a debate, Y/N. If you insist on going back there then I’m going with you.”

############

The sound of Eddie’s old trailer door squeaked loudly as Steve cautiously pulled it open. Wayne had been moved to a new place a long time ago and the people at the lab had long abandoned this place, closing down the park as a whole so no one would come this way. Of course, that didn’t stop some of the high school kids from sneaking in and spray painting “FREAK” on the side under his window.

You glanced around the dark interior as memories flashed through your mind, his bedroom door still open as if waiting for its occupant to return home. You actually hadn’t been in his room since he was on the run. A strong urge coursed through you to go look but you pushed it down as you watched Steve grab a chair and hoist himself through the hole in the ceiling before falling on his feet on the other side. 

“Wait there ok? I’ll take a look and if I find anything I’ll come get you.”

You nodded silently praying as he disappeared.

***

Bat drawn, Steve slowly opened the trailer door and maneuvered down the steps. With just a quick glance everything looked the same as they had left it a few months ago. Breaking into a sprint, he ran to where he knew Eddie’s body would be. Hell, he had nightmares to of your screams when they pried your hand from the metalhead’s. He blamed himself constantly but he didn’t know how to make it up to you. 

Was there a way to make up for something like that?

He always saw you on his way to work as you stocked shelves in the front window of the market. Your eyes that were once so full of life seemed empty now. When you told him last night you just wanted to feel something, he desperately wanted to help. You clung to him so tightly after every orgasm he gave you, as if he too would be gone when the pleasant feeling ended. 

Steve couldn’t help but wonder if you would allow him to take you on a proper date. You were always so kind to everyone and extremely beautiful. It didn’t surprise him that Eddie was drawn to you. He didn’t want you to feel like he used you last night just because the opportunity arose. He genuinely wouldn’t mind getting to know you better and maybe the two of you could heal together. 

As his feet skidded to a stop, Steve’s eyes widened as he looked around. 

The makeshift shield and weapon he and Henderson had made were laying haphazardly on the ground next to where Eddie’s body should have been but was now vacant.

“Y/N.”, he whispered, running back towards the trailer. 

***

Steve said to stay put but it wouldn’t hurt for you to look around his room. You of all people knew it wasn’t very far from the living area. 

Memories hit you like a ton of a bricks; a montage of a life you no longer had or would have. 

“Eddie! Stop!”, you giggled as he pretended to nibble on your neck. “That feels weird.”

“You’re weird! It’s supposed to be sexy, sweetheart.”

You smile as he stands in the middle of his room playing his guitar while obnoxiously singing in your direction. 

“I can see what you're looking for I know what you want from me.”

Eddie bends down till his face is just inches from yours and your smile widens. 

“And I'm gonna give you more

I'm gonna slide it in, right to the top Slide it in, I ain't never gonna stop.”

“You’re a pervert you know that?!”

“I love you to!”

Your fingers gently trace his tattoos including the one he had just gotten fairly recently of your name near his heart while Eddie played with your hair. You wanted to do the same but you knew your mom would kill you if she ever found out you got a tattoo. 

“What are you thinking about, babe?”

The metalhead takes a long drag of his cigarette before squishing it in the nearby ashtray. 

“I’m going to graduate this year, princess. Once I get that fucking diploma, I’ll get a good job so we can move into our own place and I can take care of you.”

As you tilt your head to look up him, he does the same and leans down to kiss your lips. 

“Then we’ll get married and pop out a bunch of kids.”

“Oh?”, you laugh as he holds you tighter. “You’re just excited to make them but you won’t be pushing them out!”

The tears started to fall as you slowly took everything in, walking towards his closet, and allowing your fingers to graze his clothes. Everything still smelled so much like him and it killed you. 

“Y/N?!”

You head turned at the sound of Steve shouting your name and you hastily ran to the hallway, freezing when you realized you saw a figure staring up into the gate, smirking. As his head fell back down, Eddie’s smile faded as his eyes met yours. 

“Am…Am I dreaming again?”

Moving in a blur, you were abruptly lifted off your feet and slammed down hard onto the mattress with him on top of you pinning your wrists. Almost like a feral animal, he pressed his nose to your neck before sniffing along your cheek up to your hair. 

“Mine.”, Eddie growled. 

“Always.”, you replied in fear at this new behavior. “I’ve always been yours.”

“LIAR!”, he shouts making you jump. 

“No! No, Eddie. Wh-what happened with Steve and I…I was the first time. I swear. I ju-just wanted to feel something. I’ve been so numb since I lost you. I thought about you every day!”

Your boyfriend continued glare at you with angry vacant eyes that broke your heart.

“Do you even remember me?” When he doesn’t respond, you push against his hold on one of your hands and to your surprise he lets it go. Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you point to your name along his skin. “Y/N. That’s me, baby.”

Lifting your shirt, you exposed the new tattoo of his name you had gotten on your heart a week after he died. He blinked a couple of times as if trying to gather his thoughts or even gather as many memories as he could. His cold fingers caressed the ink making you shudder as palm grazed your breast. 

Something that looked like recognition flashed through his eyes before they darkened once more and he pinned you back down against his bed. 

“Mine.”

Aggressively, he rips your shirt causing you to groan as his tongue licks up your chest to your throat. Your legs clasp around his waist as he grinds against your center while your hips begin to roll to meet his movements.  

“Mine…”, Eddie murmurs one last time before you feel something sharp break the skin on your neck. 

“Ah! E-Eddie…what are you…fuck…”

The man’s large palm holds your head still as slurping sounds fill your ears. Your body suddenly feels like it’s on fire and the only thing that can ease the burn is him. Reaching between you two, you fumble with his belt and push down his pants before doing the same with your own. He grunts into your neck as you guide him into your entrance, his pace promptly setting at hard and rough. 

“Yes, baby, please. Fuck, you feel so fucking good. I missed you so much.”

“Mmm—Y/N.”

Tears flooded your face at the sound of him saying your name and abruptly clung to your back as he flipped over placing you on top of him. After lifting off his shirt, he slashed his nail along your name on his flesh and forcefully yanked your lips to the wound. 

“Princess…mine. You…drink.”

Eddie mewled as your tongue collected some of the dark blood that had fallen down his chest and his grip on your head loosened as he ran his fingers through your hair. As you began to drink from him, your hips began to bounce allowing his cock to punch into the sensitive spot inside you driving you crazy. 

“Fuck…pretty girl. That’s…it.”

A loud crashing sound echoed from living room but it didn’t phase either of you as Eddie began thrusting upward to meet your movements. 

“Y/N.”, Steve winced as he hobbled into the room. 

Shakily, he reached for your arm but just as his fingers touched your bicep, you came off Eddie  with a pop and violently pushed the boy’s chest, hurtling him onto the floor near the closet. 

“Mine.”, you snarled, baring a new set of fangs that frightened Steve in his place.

The metalhead chuckled as he swiveled you back to face him, passionately kissing your lips as he pounded up into you. Your body trembled as you both climaxed together; just how you were meant to be…together. 

Panting, you fell to his side and began to whine as your body curled into a ball. Eddie sat up and swung his feet over the edge before reaching for the long abandoned pack of cigarettes on his nightstand and lighting the end. 

“What did you do to her?”, Steve murmured as he listened to you moan in what sounded like pain. 

The metalhead glanced in your direction before taking a drag of the smoke in his hand. 

“I made her mine forever.”

“You…you’re hurting her…”

“Hmm nah. Baby girl is just hungry. Would you like to ease her pain, Stevie? Seems like something you’re interested in now a days.”

“I don’t want to be whatever you are.”

“Trust me, you won’t be. We need you as is anyway for what’s about to happen.”

“Wh-What’s about to happen?”

Smirking, Eddie tapped your hip and you rolled over, sliding to the floor, and crawling slowly over to him. 

“Please…hungry.”, you begged with wide eyes. “Hurts.”

Clenching his jaw, Steve rolled up his sleeve and offered you his wrist which you gladly accepted as you brought it to your lips and curled up in lap. The boy grunt as you fed, leaning his head against the wall so he could glare at Eddie. 

“He’s alive, Steve. I can feel it.”

“Who is?”

Taking another drag of his cigarette, he sighs in slight annoyance that he even has to tell him. Sliding on to the floor as well, he places himself right in front of him, and pries your teeth from his arm. With a small, content smile, you lean your forehead into Steve’s neck and fall into the most peaceful sleep you had had in months. Eddie grins softly as he caresses your cheek before meeting the other man’s eyes with a stern look of his own. 

“Vecna.”

############### Eddie Asks

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 2 | Red Is Traditional

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @aristenfromwarsaw

"Wake up." Tav was shaken awake by Astarion. She rubbed her eyes and looked up at him, confused.

"What's going on?" she asked. Her eyes darted to the window and the sun was slowly settling down into the horizon. Astarion was usually in the palace by that time, with no intentions of leaving.

"Don't question me, just get dressed," Astarion said, passing Tav an embroidered black cloak. "We must hurry before it gets too late and the shop closes."

Tav's eyes widened. "oh - okay." She sat up from the bed and hurried to put on the luxurious cloak and slippers. "Is there something going on..?" Tav stumbled as her finger got snagged while trying to slip on her flats.

"Wait," Astarion held Tav by her shoulder as she fixed herself. "You need to drink this first." He reached for a glass cup sitting on their bedside.

The thick liquid of blood filled the brim of the cup. It was darker in color than Tav's freshest pint of the slick, but he was right. She needed to eat before starving herself.

As Tav gazed at the glass in front of her, a look of disgust crossed her face. With a swift motion, she pushed it away, “I don’t want it..”

Disgusting.

Astarion’s expression shifted into a frown, his eyes reflecting a hint of anger, "You can eat all the food you want, but we both know it'll never give you the proper energy your body needs."

With a subtle yet commanding gesture, he pressed the glass against her lips, his tone firm yet strangely alluring. “Drink.”

She held the glass lightly and sipped the thick dark slick. It coated her mouth in a bitterness that turned Tav's face sour.

"It's bitter," she coughed, dabbing away the excess spill from the corners of her lips.

"It's old," Astarion continued. "But it'll give you some energy."

Astarion had to bottle animal blood for Tav, and not every day was a successful catch.

Tav took another sip and forced it down. It tasted awful, but it did give her a little energy.

"Okay," she said. "I'm ready."

Astarion studied Tav's face, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. He cupped her cheek, pressing his thumb against the smeared blood on her lips. "You're a mess," he chuckled, his voice low and playful. "But you look so beautifully delicious."

He leaned over and licked the traces of blood left on her skin, pressing his lips into hers in a small kiss. Tav willingly opened her mouth, her heart pounding. She could feel his tongue against hers, and the taste of his kiss was intoxicating.

Astarion pulled away, his eyes still locked on hers. "Now we can go."

Tav nodded obediently, her mind still reeling. Her chest pounded with a heat that burned from the absence of Astarion's touch. She had never felt so alive.

They left the palace and headed to the market. Tav held onto Astarion’s arm as they walked down the familiar streets of the lower city.

"Where are we going?" Tav pulled her cloak's hood over her head, shielding her from any light left in the horizon.

"Fabrics. The party is formal attire and I wanted you to wear only the finest material." Astarion guided Tav up the ally ways and she gazed up at him, face flushed.

"Are you going to...sew me a dress?" She tried to peek up at his face, and when his eyes caught hers, he nodded once with a smirk on his face.

The rush of warmth squeezed Tav's chest and her smile beamed brighter than any star in the sky. Tav knew Astarion was a skilled sewer, but she had never seen it for herself. This felt special.

The city was still under construction from the Netherbrain and it was kinda sad to see all the rubble piled up in front of destroyed buildings.

Astarion tugged on Tav's arm as she got caught between her feet staring out at the ruins of what was once a grand city.

“Come now, my dear," he said with a stern lilt to his voice, "We're almost there." He too looked at the rubble, remembering how weak and helpless he had felt back then. But now, he was stronger than ever.

With a small jingle of the door, a wave of natural fibers hit Tav and Astarion. The countless rows of material covered the walls and the store clerk greeted them,

"Good day!" The clerk's eyes sized up the couple and his eyebrows perked up. They looked expensive. "Looking for something as flawless as you two?"

Tav cracked a shy smile, her elf ears dropped with reddened tips. She waited for Astarion to speak, "Yes. I want nothing but the best."

The clerk's smile widened and he guided them to a section of the shop with a wave of his hand, "Of course! I have the finest material all available to the likes of you. Here - take a look."

Tav eyes trailed down the rows of fabric, and one caught her eye. A purple velvet material. It was soft to the touch, stretchy, and rich in color.

"Astarion, look how pretty." Tav rolled out a piece of the velvet from the roll, face flushed with amazement.

Astarion’s face turned bitter and he shook his head, "No, darling. Just feel how heavy it is. Do you really want to drag this dress around?" He scuffed, how foolish.

"I suppose..." Tav rolled the velvet back with a sigh. "I thought it just looked pretty."

"What you thought and what is true are two different things. Now - let us take a look at this." Astarion rolled out a silky red fabric with a glint of approval in his eyes. "Now this is something worth our attention. Red is traditional after all."

Tav hummed with a nod, yes it really was beautiful. Maybe he was right, the velvet would be a heavier material.

"That is our mulberry silk. It is made from the cocoons of silkworms. It is one of my finest materials in all of Faerun, everyone will know its worth just by its look and feel."

The feel? Tav would be wearing it and there's no way he'd let anyone touch her under his watch. Astarion frowned, "No one will be touching this material except me." Jealousy blurred his vision for a moment before clearing his throat, "This will be all."

The clerk's worried expression landed on Tav. It was like he was trying to telepathically send red flag signals to her, but alas, she knew this side of Astarion too well. And sometimes it was very abrasive.

To cut the tension, Tav spoke out with excitement, "Well! it's very beautiful. Thank you for your time, sir.

~

As they walked home, Astarion noticed the admiring glances from other prying eyes as they passed by, and a flicker of jealousy crossed his face.

It wasn't Tav's fault she was unique in beauty. She was definitely foreign in appearance compared to the city’s people. She bared clear crystal white eyes, that were eerie yet captivating. Growing up, the wood elves thought she was born blind, but it was just genetics. She looked ghastly with dark glowing skin like licorice and had long messy locs. Her hips were fuller than most, with petite shoulders. Even in a cloak, she shined in the crowd. Nothing could mask her beauty.

She was Astarion's vision, his muse.

He subtly tugged at Tav’s arm, a gentle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. Tav turned to him with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling mischievously, "Jealous?"

Tav shrugged, she was used to people staring at her.

“Tav,” he murmured, his voice laced with possessiveness, “When people stare, they'll know your mine.”

Tav stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. She reached out to gently cup his cheek, her gaze unwavering. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear vampire,” she assured with a grin. “I have eyes only for you.”

Astarion’s expression softened at her words, a rare smile escaping his lips as he shook his head amusingly. “You are daring, my dear spawn. But I suppose I am reassured by your words.”

There’s no need to be jealous when he consumed so much of her already, mind body and soul.

Tav tried to pull his face into a kiss, but she was stopped mid-gesture. Astarion grabbed her wrist, and he loomed over her with dominance, "Now, now. We must save our energy. I still have to take your measurements."

Tav yanked her arm away from Astarion, slightly rubbing her wrist, "I really don't like when you grab me like that, Star." She felt a little crossed.

He leaned in closer to Tav, his voice low and seductive. "On the contrary, you do. It's Just when you're not on your knees is when it is a sudden problem."

Tav raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended but also amused. She crossed her arms and scoffed.

“Oh, is that so?” Her tone teased. Despite the provocative comment, she refused to let Astarion’s charm rattle her composure. She met his gaze head-on, unflinching and bold.

“Well, if you think that’s a problem, maybe you’re just not used to someone who can stand tall in your presence,” Tav batted her eyelashes in amusement.

Tav took a step closer to Astarion, their faces merely inches away. “But don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a way to work around that little issue,” she added with a wink.

Astarion’s lips curled into a smirk, “That mouth is going to get you in trouble.”

He was entertained and impressed by Tav’s cheekiness. Without missing a beat, he reached out and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Come now, Let’s not keep the night waiting any longer,” He appreciated her daring nature and found himself drawn to her fiery spirit.

But in the back of his mind, Tav would have to suffer punishment for speaking so rashly to her master. In all due time, of course.

Next part here

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

See ya next Monday ( for a smutty chapter! ;p)

I'm posting chapter 3 NEXT NEXT Monday (March 4th) since I couldn't wait to get this out. and then I should be able to stay consistent every Monday since I have a few chapters already written up :D

[porcelainseashore]

Ghosts from the Past (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot more dialogue-heavy to set up the scenes for the next ones. It was originally going to be angstier, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Oops. I hope you still like it though.

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Baptism

Outside the embassy, Leon hailed for a cab to get to the bar. The journey there was in complete awkward silence, except for the occasional question raised by the cab driver, who quizzed you on why you were headed to such an unsavory place. Somehow he could tell that Leon didn’t quite belong and cautioned about certain areas being unsafe for tourists. Leon just snorted in response, while you laughed inwardly at the irony of his cover story, where he was meant to be your American tourist friend embarking on a Eurotrip.

To be honest, it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Berlin was a smaller city and felt safer than New York. However, you still carried around that Swiss Army knife Leon had won and given to you back in the day wherever you went, just in case. You ran the tip of your finger along its metallic surface in your pocket. The world could be cruel to little girls after all.

As you exited from the cab, you were greeted by a lively, eclectic neighborhood, sprinkled with night markets, kebab and shisha shops, independent art spaces and late night bars. The buildings were noticeably more rundown than Mitte, the district you had traveled from, and the community a lot edgier. With both of you now dressed casually, you had no problem blending into the midnight crowd.

You swung open the doors of an unmarked establishment and found yourselves shrouded in thick wafts of cigarette smoke upon entering. Leon frowned, coughing as he swatted the air in front of him. Even though you were used to smoking being allowed pretty much everywhere in Germany, your eyes still watered as you pressed up against and squeezed past the mass of bodies in the dimly-lit, dingy bar. The smell on your clothes and hair would take days to get rid of later. It was noisy and chaotic, with nearly every inch of the space occupied by chatty, drunk customers, some more boisterous than the others. You were lucky to find a small, rickety table with two precarious-looking stools at the extreme corner of the room.

Setting your coat and day bag down on one of the stools to claim it, you folded your arms, turned to Leon and remarked, “So… an agent, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whiskey first. Then, we’ll talk.”

You rolled your eyes at his standoffish reply, wondering what his problem was. After all these years where he had led you to assume he was dead, and with the circumstances both of you had found each other in, this was the kind of attitude he took with you? A prickling feeling of agitation grew in your chest as you pushed past him, storming towards the bar in annoyance.

Upon approaching it, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw that you knew the bartender who was on shift tonight. He usually popped a little extra into your drinks whenever he sensed you had a shitty day. Tonight was no exception.

“Zwei doppelte Kurze Whiskey.” (Two double shots of whiskey.) You raised two fingers at him to spell out your order.

He grunted out an acknowledgement as he got to work, filling two empty glasses with the fiery amber liquor, one glass topped up significantly more than the other.

“Macht er dir Probleme?” (Is he giving you any trouble?) He asked, without looking up from pouring the shots. It seemed like he had noticed your little commotion with Leon from just before.

“Aktuell nicht,” (Not for now.) you answered guardedly.

At this point, Leon had caught up to you, watching as the bartender placed the glass with more whiskey on the counter top in front of you and the one with less before Leon. 

Leon huffed at the slight and shook his head. “I’ll take the bottle too.”

The bartender eyed him suspiciously as he plonked the whiskey bottle on the counter loudly, like there was an unspoken competition going on between them.

“Here,” Leon mentioned coolly, sliding a couple of euro bills along the counter to pay for all the drinks. “Keep the change.”

You sighed at the childish display before you, giving the bartender an apologetic look as you took your glass without a word, and settled in at the small table you had informally reserved earlier. The people around you were far more interested in drinking than any conversation you were about to have. Occasionally a fight started, but those responsible were easily cleared out by the staff. 

There should be no issues with privacy here, you thought, as you downed your first round of drinks simultaneously with Leon.

The sharp alcohol burned your throat, warming you from the inside. You noticed Leon wincing as he brought the glass to his cut lip, finishing its contents in one clean gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Did he get hurt in the field? You wondered, but chose not to question it, instead pouring yourself another shot as Leon did likewise.

Frustrated by the ongoing silence between the two of you and Leon’s seeming reluctance to speak, you decided to break the dead air, stating sarcastically, “Anything else you need before we get started? Room service? A hot bath, perhaps?”

He threw back another shot, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “Hm, don’t tempt me.”

“Leon, what happened? All these years… I thought you had died.” You were getting tired of this game and wanted an honest exchange for once.

“I did,” he replied softly.

“Huh?”

Averting his gaze quickly, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.” 

But you wanted answers. You needed to know what had been haunting him too. “It does to me.”

You reached out to him cautiously, but just as your fingers ghosted the back of his hand, he moved it away, his voice turning cold as ice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s been a long time-”

His reaction took you by surprise as you interjected defensively, “Yeah, I can count.” 

A long time? If anyone should be able to comprehend that, you were more than qualified.

“I’m not the same guy you used to know back then,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“And I’m not the same girl you knew either,” you countered, in a mixture of anger and confusion. He was talking to you like he was blaming you for something. It wasn’t fair and you weren’t going to put up with it anymore. “Stop avoiding the question, Leon.”

“Still as stubborn as hell though,” he muttered.

Your blood boiled at his non-answer. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” You seethed, raising your voice. “I mourned you. The past 7 years. I heard nothing. Your parents heard nothing.” You emphasized each point, taking another shot afterwards to calm your nerves. Your face scrunched up in response to the harsh bite of the liquor. “And now this?”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the empty glass in his hands, before hesitantly responding, “I got out of Raccoon City. Then, the government asked me to work for them.”

You caught the drift of what he was implying when he stressed the word ‘asked’, like it wasn’t by choice. But you didn’t understand what hold they had on him.

“That’s all you need to know.” Placing his glass back down on the table, he took a swig from the bottle itself this time. The few sentences he gave you had taken a toll on him.

“Why? How did they-”

“The rest is classified,” he snapped through gritted teeth, as a form of warning not to push it any further.

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, realizing that you weren’t much closer to understanding him and what he had gone through.

“Why did you join Silje’s company?” Leon questioned out of the blue, his tone filled with resentment, so much so that you bit your lip in reflex as guilt seeped into your heart.

“After you… die-disappeared, I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You cast your eyes downwards, your voice choking up with emotion as the memories you had suppressed came flooding back, like a gaping wound in your side. 

“I had to leave. Everything just-” you paused, clenching your fists so hard that you could see the imprints of your fingernails against your palms. “-reminded me of you.”

At this, his stony gaze faltered slightly and a look of despondence slowly spread across his face. 

“You could have gone anywhere else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you?” He uttered somewhat accusingly. “You really shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“A bit too late for that,” you argued. Did he think you couldn’t hold your own?

“You can still walk away,” he offered.

Shaking your head, you peered back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he retorted bitterly, his brows etched together in a frown. “Look at how that turned out.”

Your mouth ran dry, and it felt as if you had been given a tight slap across your cheek. 

So this was what it was all about? He still faulted you for what happened in the past? The most troubling thing was that you had nothing to say to that. You truly held yourself accountable for whatever that had gone wrong.

“Is this why you want to get rid of me?” It came out as a bare whisper.

He shrugged impassively, unable to meet your eyes like he was hiding something. “It’s just better this way.”

Your mind was going round in circles as you were put on the spot. However, something inside you kept rebelling against what Leon had to say. You couldn’t abandon him again. Not like this, even though he claimed it was the better route to take. Didn’t he once tell you to trust him to make his own decisions? Then, he should offer you the same courtesy. You weren’t about to throw in the towel and give up now.

So instead of running away like he expected you to, you pushed back. “No.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I said no,” you repeated again resolutely. “We have a job to do. I’m helping you to infiltrate this base whether you like it or not.”

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he brooded quietly in the corner, but he continued to hear you out.

“Once that’s done, we can go back to our own separate lives if you want,” you stated. “Just like how it was.” 

A fair compromise. Although deep down you hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of your interactions with Leon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

After a while of considering your suggestion, he agreed warily, “Ok.”

His gaze was impenetrable while both of you drank in silence. At some point, you decided to call it a night, since you had an early start with him tomorrow to go over your next plan of action. It was drizzling when you came out of the bar, the water droplets falling on your face like a baptism of a new chapter. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it.

As Leon called for another cab to take him back to where he was staying, you left without a word, walking on your own to the nearest U-Bahn station. He watched you until you were just a tiny speck in his vision, lost amongst the sea of people and glowing street lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Leon were standing in front of the dining table of his service apartment, a mess of papers sprawled across every surface. He rested his curled fingers under his chin, eyeing the diagrams and notes scribbled on the sheets like a hawk, analyzing them for any obvious patterns.

He picked up a report that you had drafted recently. “So Silje told you all of this?”

You yawned and sipped at the instant coffee Leon had offered you when you had arrived. It was a couple of hours earlier than when you were normally up, as you’d have to head over to the theater to train after this meeting. You had pushed away whatever thoughts you had resulting from the conversation with Leon last night to the back of your mind, in favor of professionalism. Afterall, it wasn’t your first rodeo pretending things were fine, and neither was it Leon’s.

“Some of it, yes. Though in her own way of speaking in riddles,” you explained. “The rest I had overheard or tailed her without her knowing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” It sounded like a mixture of concern and him questioning your abilities, the latter of which irritated you a little.

“If I was, would I still be standing here?” You stated brusquely.

“Fair enough.”

You pointed at the blueprint map again, tracing the outlines of your markings with your fingers as you explained, “From what I gathered, the site has two main sections beyond the theater space. The upper levels are easily accessible, but shaped like a labyrinth. I haven’t explored everything yet, but if my gut feeling is right, I would say that the entrance leading further down might be all the way over here.” You tapped at the red circle with a question mark drawn on the map.

“The lower levels are only accessible via keycard. Obviously Silje has one, but there must be others too,” you reasoned. 

“That said, I’ve seen her bringing in the same man more than once. Business type, probably in his 60s, speaking German with a Swiss accent.” Then, you proceeded to describe his outward appearance in further detail.

“Silje always passed him off as being part of the company board. I doubt it though,” you shrugged.

Leon hummed in response, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. It was the first sign of approval he showed you since you had reconnected.

As he thumbed through the rest of the papers, he cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “One thing I don’t get from this is why she’s confided in you.”

You nipped your lip, swallowing anxiously, as you were afraid of disclosing what you might have committed yourself to. 

“She wanted to offer me a gift,” you whispered.

“A gift?” He tensed up noticeably at the word. “Did you accept?”

“Um… yes?” You replied uneasily, but tried to persuade him that nothing else had happened yet. “She only told me it would come soon.”

The drumming of his fingers on the table stopped abruptly, as he gripped the edge of it, clenching his jaw as he spoke, “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I-I thought it would help,” you stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his mood.

“What exactly has Bergmann told you about this case?” He hissed.

“That Silje was suspected of harboring some bioterrorists.”

You flinched as he cursed a second time loudly, before muttering a quick, “Excuse me for a minute.” With that, he darted out of the room into the hallway to make a call.

So here you were, left alone without answers again. The secrecy surrounding the entire mission and Leon’s erratic behavior was starting to grate on you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Past the hallway, out of sight and earshot, Leon had connected with Hunnigan on comms.

“Leon,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Our old friend, the Plaga,” he stated. “Seems like our suspicions might be right.”

“You have the source to back that up?” She asked out of habit, even though she already knew the answer.

“I went through the documents. I’m not 100%, but it’s close.”

He detailed an abnormality that stood out during the investigations. “A few days ago, some people on site experienced temporary psychotic episodes where their veins turned black, but reverted back to normal after.”

“That’s aligning with whatever intel we’ve already picked up. It could be a new strain of the Plaga,” he concluded.

Hunnigan nodded. “We’ll require a sample for the labs when you’re in the base. Anything you need me to do?”

“Run some files on any surviving Los Iluminados members. Focus on trade routes with Germany,” he requested. “The informant mentioned Silje entertaining a particular ‘business partner’ on a regular basis.”

“On it.” She typed away furiously at a computer keyboard off-screen.

“Another thing,” Leon commented. “Why wasn’t the informant told about the real nature of this situation?” 

“That was under Bergmann’s discretion.” 

He scoffed derisively. “She’s putting her in danger. The informant has no idea what she’s risking here. Silje just offered her the ‘gift’ and you and I know what that means.”

“Leon, you know the rules,” Hunnigan sighed sympathetically. “We don’t really have much say in this jurisdiction.”

“What do you mean? She reports to HQ!”

“Yeah, and they’ve given her free reign,” she explained, without batting an eyelid.

“In-fucking-credible.” He rolled his eyes.

“You need to press on. The informant has the best chance of getting you in,” she reasoned, giving pause and contemplating her next choice of words before speaking. “I would suggest not getting too attached to her.”

“I’m not,” Leon deadpanned, despite the look on Hunnigan’s face, like she didn’t believe him. 

“At the rate this is going, she may not be around long enough to do her job,” he clarified.

“You know we have a cure for that,” she rebutted. “The girl will be fine.”

He pursed his lips, changing the subject. “Hm, just send me the updates later.”

With that, he shut off his comms device and headed back into the living room, only to be accosted by your snide remark, “Let me guess, another convo that’s classified?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not quite.”

“Whatever Bergmann has been feeding you is bullshit,” he began. “We’ve been suspecting that the theater is being used as a front for developing a new batch of bioweapons they’re about to ship into the US.”

Your eyes widened at the newfound information. The whole time you had assumed that Silje was just providing a safehouse, not a full-on experimentation chamber. But with the recent events that had occurred, you should have considered it earlier.

“So the labs must be underground.” He thumped the pad of his index finger on the sketchings of the lower levels of the site on the map. “And they’re not just hiding people down there.”

Casting over a solemn glance, he revealed, “I’m telling you this, because you need to be careful.”

“And stop making deals you shouldn’t be making,” he warned.

You let the words sink in. “I see,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… appreciate that.”

“The minute you feel something is off, or your veins start to darken, you contact me straight away and get the hell outta there. Understood?”

“Ok, I will,” you promised.

On the one hand, you were grateful that Leon had the courtesy to inform you about what you were getting into, but on the other, you were scared of what was to come. You had heard about the Terragrigia Panic and the B.O.W.s that devastated the floating city a year ago. The gruesome scenes were splashed across the news for weeks. Would the same happen here?

As if he could read your mind, Leon placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I trust you.” You said it as if it was clear as day.

His eyes bore into yours and his hand made its way towards your cheek, but stopped short in midair, a hair’s breadth away from touching your skin. Then, it fell to the side as he turned away, like he was ashamed of what had just transpired.

You cleared your throat in awkwardness, trying to recall the next point on the meeting agenda. Ah yes, Till.

Till was a fence you got to know from the parties you frequented. He was a friend of a friend of a… you got the idea. At first, you bought your drugs from his minions in the clubs, but then became a regular client of his the moment you started your informant career.

“As requested, I’ve arranged a meeting with Till.” You grabbed your day bag from the seat you had left it on. “He operates out of a nightclub that has a pretty strict door policy. So you’ll have to look the part.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

You sighed, unsure of how this would go down. “Um, your usual black get-up will do,” you mentioned tentatively. Unzipping your bag, which unveiled a sneak peek of its contents, you peered back at him. Here goes nothing. “So are you a more of a latex or leather kind of guy?”

What you would have given to permanently capture the look of shock on Leon’s face.

“Are you fucking serious?” He blurted out.

Perhaps you should make the decision for him then. Giving him a once over, you identified a common theme with his casual leather jacket and fingerless gloves. 

“I’m guessing leather,” you discerned, rummaging through your bag for a studded harness and tossing it over to him.

He caught the chunky material in his hands, looking at it with apprehension whilst shaking his head.

Fishing out a translucent, black crop top, you displayed it in front of Leon as you walked over to him. “Maybe over this and a pair of leather boxers.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Well, he sure wasn’t making your job easy. “I’ll be doing most of the ass-kissing at the door,” you argued. “You just have to wear this and keep your mouth shut.”

Please go along with it, you prayed. There was only so much magic you could pull to get him in at the club door.

Examining the outfit you had picked out for him gingerly, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

At least he wasn’t protesting any further.

“I’ll meet you there at 4 in the morning on Sunday,” you reminded him. “You’d better have something substantial to trade with.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” he grumbled, to which you snickered in amusement before departing for the theater.