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chloe-writes · 3 years

Text

Levi x Reader

Angst | Modern - Soulmate AU | 7k words

Summary : being dead since the 19th century, your 200-year-old house in the countryside had been sold to Levi Ackerman. He stumbles upon your old diary and reads it, only to slowly fall in love with you as he continues to read the pages.

Who would have known love could exist between two people separated not only by centuries, but also by death itself ?

" —in the next life, where there is no marriage, but where souls find each other through intimacy, may I attain true love. "

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Characters: Levi, Kuchel, Kenny, Hange, Erwin, Miche, Rod

Content Warning: cancer, implied domestic violence, implied suicide, misogyny

AO3: https://t.co/B7Jq6k5q0v

Note: I made the reader a feminist because I don't think there are much fics that include feminist political themes. Also, I usually use they/them pronouns for Hange, but I will be using she/her pronouns in this work.

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“Here are the keys. Enjoy your new home, Mr. Ackerman.”

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The real estate agent had an air of arrogance, one that Levi Ackerman couldn’t help but detest. Caught up in his own thoughts, Levi barely noticed how the man’s eyes were far too big for his head.

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Ah yes, real estate agent Rod Reiss, whose egotistic demeanor struck an odd contrast to his shabby appearance. That seemed to be an enigma to Levi. However, the Ackerman didn't care to figure out which of those two qualities was more irksome.

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He just wanted to get the transaction over with and move into his newly-bought home.

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The house stood tall with its Victorian style architecture, surrounded by a lush forest and lonely hills. The rural areas of Paradis were the last place on Earth he had expected to live in. However, this had been his mother’s wish since they had gotten the news that she had cancer—to grow old in a home she loved.

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Kuchel wasn't gravely ill, but Levi still wanted to grant her wish. An hour drive from here to his job in the city was a small price to pay in exchange for his mother’s comfort and happiness.

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The house seemed even lovelier than it did in the pictures. And Kuchel soon felt as though she had lived here for years. Levi had always been her son, but now she saw something new in him: he had grown into a man who was kind and sweet.

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The real estate agent seemed hesitant, but nevertheless, was still determined to speak up. “Also, keep everything the (l/n) family left behind. Their belongings come with the house you paid for. If I may have a say, put it up for auction. Century-old antiques cost a fortune!”

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“So we’d have to throw all that ye olden times junk away ourselves?” Levi mumbled more to himself than to Rod Reiss—who was now taking his leave after successfully selling the estate.

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Kuchel had always adored antiques, so she didn't quite appreciate her son's rude remark. “It isn’t junk! I even heard Kenny say there was a piano in the living room. Maybe you could get back into playing.”

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A comment was then heard from the mentioned uncle, Kenny, who was quite displeased with the lack of help in unloading their stuff from the van. “Oi, what ya waiting for, runt? Let’s get settled in.”

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“Keep calling me a runt and you’ll be sleeping in the attic, old man.”

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The castle-like detail of their new home felt like being part of the romance and history of a by-gone era. From the vibrant flowery wallpaper, to the steeply-pitched roofs. Levi didn’t mind the design though, it made him happy to see how this house had captured his mother’s heart.

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His only concern was the thick layers of dust which covered everything in sight; it was a depressing dirty grey—contrasting the elaborately decked out home that reveled in its bright colors.

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“Filthy.”

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There it was again, Levi’s obsession with cleanliness. Kuchel giggled at the thought, it had become an inside joke within the family. “Yes, filthy indeed. Just like your uncle. I had to put a handkerchief over my nose the entire ride so I wouldn’t smell the three-days-no-shower stench.”

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The subject of their conversation then appeared in the room, “No shit, I have been blessed with the misfortune of calling you a sister.”

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“Kenny, when was the last time you took a bath? And I’m not even trying to be offensive, you really do stink.”

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“Aight aight, I get your point, gonna wash up when I’m done cleaning. I’ll mop the kitchen and dining. Levi, you do the rooms and the attic.”

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Though the shorter man thought the division of tasks was unfair, he decided to remain quiet and nod in agreement.

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The attic was, by far, the most interesting part of the house, and much to his dismay, also the dustiest.

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Levi made his way through the junk, broken furniture, and trinkets. It was like reading the story of somebody’s life, he thought, as he gazed at all these things that had been used once, that had been part of every day in the house below.

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Someone had savored each page of the books on the shelf, or maybe someone used to watch the minutes of the grandfather clock tick with interest. But those people were long dead, or gone away, and now the oddments of their lives were piled up here, forgotten.

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It was a bittersweet thought.

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The man decided to start with the bookshelf that expanded across the wall. Halfway through dusting, he spotted something in the corner of his eye. It was a book with a gleaming golden spine, reflecting the sun’s rays that welcomed itself in from the windows.

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Levi was an apathetic individual by nature. He didn’t particularly care about things that weren’t his own business. But there was an odd vibe to the mentioned book; it was so inviting.

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A tingling in his bones warned him that he shouldn’t open it, but his curiosity placated him, driving him onward against his instincts.

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The dust beneath its aging covers represented how patient time was—how the book allowed dust particles to hide its golden touches until the waiting time was over.

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Without any further ado, he flipped it open. Eyes widening at realization, the book was actually a journal.

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(y/n) (l/n)

1821

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“What an ugly name.” Levi snorted, never really understanding parents and their poor naming choices.

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Dear reader, I dare you not to turn the page if you refuse to read of a lousy, miserable life. Yet, if you do wish to seek such knowledge even after warning, then must I say you are one nosy fellow!

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His interest in the book—or more accurately, his interest in the journal—immediately vanished as he didn’t want to snoop into a random dead girl’s business, into your lousy and miserable business.

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He reckoned it was going to be about boy problems anyway, which was what most women he knew in high school wrote about in their stupid diaries. And surely, that wasn’t any interesting.

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However, a thought abruptly entered his mind. In many ways, diaries chart unmapped territory, especially diaries of those who had lived in the past. Levi wondered what lives were like before—to get a sense of the attitudes, opinions, and beliefs that motivated individuals of a different era.

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Written on a regular basis, journals provide commentary on life as it is lived. And this sense of immediacy pulled Levi in and fueled his curiosity in reading about the past in a direct, unfiltered way.

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Making the final decision to indeed snoop into your business, he flipped the pages, eyes following the words of what seemed to be the first entry:

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12th of January, 1821

Last night at dinner, I tried to convince father that I am not meant for marriage, and marriage is not meant for me. My husband-to-be’s ignorance is only one reason in the long list of his shortcomings. Yet, there was no possibility in changing father’s mind.

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Today, I had been wandering in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning. The cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor activity should be forbidden. But that did not matter, I needed to get away from that cursed household, even if the winter were to freeze me with its icy breath.

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“How melodramatic.” Though he pitied the misogynistic situation you found yourself troubled in, Levi couldn’t help but cringe at the thought that he was indeed right—it was about boy problems.

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The man took a peek at the outside world through the high windows, taking in the sight of the orange sunset.

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Kenny and Kuchel were probably waiting for him downstairs, wondering what was taking him so long when dinner was soon approaching. He closed your journal, and placed it back on the shelf.

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Letting out a tired sigh, he had barely started on the reason behind why he even came here in the first place. Cleaning the attic would have to wait another day then.

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At Kuchel’s check-up session two months ago, it was discovered that she was terminally ill, and her cancer was incurable. The only reason she was still taking palliative chemotherapy was for less suffering.

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Kenny had never prayed a lot. He hoped hard, he wished hard, but he didn't pray. Yet when he discovered his sister’s impending death, he prayed to whatever deity that was up there—hoping for her recovery even when there was nothing else to hope for.

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But hope is what keeps us going, right? Without it, the struggle against cynicism and loss of spirit would be greater than the slow, inevitable death of cancer. So Kenny held onto that little hope in his heart and supported his sister at every step of the way.

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Though, what he didn’t support was Kuchel’s decision of hiding the truth from Levi.

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“The runt is going to find out sooner or later. For fuck’s sake, you are dying. Don’t you think Levi deserves to know that? ”

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“First of all, stop calling my son a runt. Second, I will tell him. Not now, but soon.” The frail woman took a slow and long sip from her tea, eyeing her brother from the rim of the cup. She knew Kenny was right, but still refused to listen to his argument anyway.

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“Soon? When you’re already on your deathbed?”

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A pair of approaching footsteps were heard. Kenny immediately zipped his mouth shut while Kuchel greeted her son. “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

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“Good morning.“

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“Ahh fuck it, I can’t take it anymore. Levi, your mother has something to tell you.” All attention quickly drifted to the tall male, who was annoyed by how his sister was skirting around the issue they had been discussing only a minute ago.

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The tension in the room grew thicker by each passing second, especially when Levi demanded to know what this was all about, “What’s going on?”

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“I’m just. Aah…” The frail woman’s dilemma had not went unnoticed by the two men. She was clearly buying time, “I’m just upset. Chemotherapy has been causing my hair to fall out. It’s just really upsetting… especially for an ex-model.”

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Part of Levi was relieved to hear that the news wasn’t as serious as he thought it would be, but he still couldn’t help but feel bad for his mother, “I see. Would you feel better if I bought you a wig?”

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“Yes, I’d very much appreciate that. Thank you, sweetheart.”

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Kenny rolled eyes at his family’s exchange of words, not pleased with Kuchel’s dishonesty.

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“If not today, I’ll get you the wig by tomorrow. I’m going now. See you later.” With that, the young adult left for his 10 am shift at work.

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“When are you going to tell him?” Inquired Kenny, choosing to speak only once he was certain his nephew was out of earshot.

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“When I am ready.”

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Hange fixed her glasses and wore a sinister grin, eager to annoy Levi so early in the morning, “Good morning, how’s my favorite sour face?”

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“Never miss a good chance to shut up.” He prayed that Hange would someday finally learn to appreciate peaceful silence, but clearly, today wasn’t that day just yet.

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“Now is definitely not a good chance to shut up. Someone has to be responsible enough to fill in the duty of annoying you.”

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“Makes sense. It does seem like the only aspect you’re capable of being responsible at.”

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“Okay, rude. How’s your mom-“ The bespectacled brunette had barely finished her sentence when Levi pinched her nose. “Ow!”

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“Here's your nose, I found it in my business.”

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Levi then shifted his gaze to the two familiar blond men approaching—who seemingly have heard the banter between him and Hange.

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Scratching his nose, “No, really, Levi. how is Mrs. Ackerman?” Miche hasn’t heard of Kuchel in a long time. since Levi refused to bring the topic up, so he was curious as to how she had been coping up with cancer.

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“I thought the years we’ve spent working together would grant you the knowledge that my mother’s name is Ms. Ackerman, not Mrs. Ackerman.”

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“My apologies.”

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The shorter fellow ran a hand through his black hair, letting out a sigh. “And about mom—she’s alright, though the more intensive course of chemotherapy has been kicking her ass.”

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An awkward silence descended for a moment. Kuchel was always a sensitive topic, not to mention, Levi’s crass choice of words made the entire situation more uncomfortable.

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Erwin finally decided to contribute to the conversation and break the growing tension, “I’m sorry to hear that, we hope her chemotherapy will be worth it in the long run.” The tall blond also cued for their small group to walk along to their respective desks, where piles upon piles of paperwork awaited.

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Though Levi would never verbally admit it to his mother, he was starting to get attached to the rural landscape. There was a sense of serenity from the sight of swaying grasslands during his drive home from work. Maybe the countryside wasn’t so bad after all.

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“I’m home.” He hung his coat on the rack and walked to the kitchen, where he assumed his mother would be. It was a rather amusing scene before Levi: Kuchel hitting Kenny with kitchen utensils as he tried to sneak a piece of meat into his mouth.

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The frail woman’s facial expression turned from threatening to gentle as she heard her son’s approaching footsteps. “Oh, hello sweetheart. Did you just arrive?

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“Yeah. Although I wish I had gotten home sooner to see more of Kenny getting assaulted with a spatula.”

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A pair of eyes rolled in annoyance, “Not funny. And before I forget, there had been some sounds from the attic. Probably mice. Check it, will ya? I’d prefer you throw it away, but if you’d like a new addition to your small circle of friends, I won’t judge.”

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“Hmm. just say you don’t have the balls to check it yourself.”

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“Boys, please mind your language!”

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Once more, the attic had an eerie abandoned feeling to it. The very clearness of silence drew an intense feeling Levi couldn’t shake off. The air around him hummed with an energy that was foreign yet nostalgic.

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And there it was again, the familiar book resting on the shelf. Its shiny golden spine, a contrast to the dimly lit room. It was a mysterious journal really, seeming to know secrets he didn’t, inviting him to take another peak. After all, the unknown draws people in—

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No. He came here for one purpose only. And that was to search for the source of the sounds. That and that only.

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However, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize when someone is being pushed by a circumstance to do something. And for Levi, this was it. Destiny’s (or whatever you call it) interventions can sometimes be read as an invitation to explore.

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With that said, the man abandoned his original purpose and flipped your diary open, picking up at where he last left off.

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3rd of February, 1821

Elliott Dickens, the man I am expected to marry. The main reason why father wants me to wed him is because he is a duke in Marley.

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I don’t even know a single thing about dukes! Except maybe for the fact that dukes are the highest-ranking title among nobles, and that they own large amounts of inherited property.

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But I have no interest in them, their wealth, nor their corrupt practices. Moreover, I have no interest in moving away to Elliott’s hometown.

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People are beginning to flock from rural areas to large urban locations like Marley. Though I cannot blame these people for wanting more job opportunities in the city, but I love it here in Paradis! I do not intend of leaving this province behind.

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This is where I grew up. Every spot here is familiar history.

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I know I can't own a prairie, a meadow, nor a mountainside. But keeping the beauty of Paradis a secret somehow makes it mine.

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Only here may you see nature revealing herself in all her glory. A poet can write of it, a painter can paint of it, but neither can reproduce the same air of reality that sinks deep into the soul of the spectator.

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Both my eyes and mind are delighted in this place I’ve known as home.

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There was a pause, then Levi’s lips stretched into a smile. You were right. You convinced him that Paradis was indeed a place of solace.

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It was refreshing to look across vast spaces of grassland, to lift one’s eyes with delight, to feel the peace that rests on lonely hills. Levi had only been living here for a short while, but Paradis was already starting to feel like home to him.

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This is where he had learned to appreciate silence in a world that never stops talking.

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His entire life, Levi Ackerman had fallen into a naiveté where he looked at the world based solely on what his physical senses can ascertain. But once he saw life through your eyes, through your own words, perhaps he was wrong.

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The world perceived by our senses is different from the world perceived through our essence.

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Perhaps Levi misjudged you, you weren’t as shallow as he initially thought you were.

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Snapping out of his reverie, he started to look for the rodent Kenny was pertaining to. The man made a mental note to come back here and continue reading the journal… and to clean as well, since he wasn’t able to do that last time.

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30th of March, 1821

Dear reader, I hope you had a lovely day, good for you because I did not.

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Elliott told me, “Do you know when it is no misfortune for a young lady like you to lose her good name? It’s when a man like myself gives her a better one.”

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What an audacious remark! Bold of him to say that to me when is last name is Dickens. I refuse to associate myself with a God-awful title that sounds like the filthy thing between a man’s legs.

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Forgive me Shakespeare, but I beg to differ from Romeo & Juliet: “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.” Everything’s in a name; and I refuse the lousy title of ‘Mrs. Dickens’!

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The raven-haired man snorted, Dickens was indeed a horrendous name.

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Over the past weeks, Levi often felt like a voyeur sneakily reading your private writings—spending a decent amount of his personal time trying to decipher your handwriting and piecing stories together from your diary.

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Funnily enough, he roughly knew of your existence before; he never knew of your name and life, because you were an individual from an era he would never get to live in. Yet here he was, seemingly the only person to have ever known you in such an unfiltered way.

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He liked it. He liked the feeling of being a confidant to all your secrets.

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‘Mrs. Dickens’, a big no. I refuse to inherit that title, moreover, I refuse to marry him, and any other man like him.

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I am convinced that a husband will only ruin me, for in this society, women struggle to shape a life and sense of identity outside of marriage.

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So, I must seek wisdom and improvement from books, as knowledge is a tool to reinvent myself!

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These recent feminist political movements have deeply inspired me, and I have decided to devote a great deal of time and energy to recording my thoughts on them in writing books and diaries. Women want equality in education, labor, electoral rights, and opinion in marriage.

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My pursuit of knowledge is linked with feelings of self-worth. It is a quest to remodel myself, not so I could better serve the men in my life, but so that I could better serve myself.

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A mind so deep and a will so strong could never have failed to give Levi a peek on these excursions over the domains of literature and feminism that reflect on your mental prowess.

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With the more he flipped the pages, with the more he got to know you, he found himself squeezed under a new astonishment.

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He liked it. He liked you.

He liked you to the point that he even refused to cleaned the attic. Because by dusting off, it felt like he was erasing your footsteps, allowing your final touches upon these dusty, old things to vanish, like there was no more trace of you in this house.

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Levi sighed. He’d spoken about you to his mother. He told her about your hobbies, your adventures, and that you’re a wanderer who knows nothing of borders and cares nothing for rules in a misogynistic and unfair society.

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He told her almost everything, but nothing about you being the dead ex-owner of this house... that little detail was to remain a closely guarded secret to himself.

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”When will I meet her? This girl you talk so much of. I bet she’s a lovely lady.”

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“Ah, about that… it’s just, I have no hope of ever calling her mine.”

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“Why so? You’re a handsome and kind young man.”

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Levi so badly wanted to tell his mother why he couldn’t introduce you to her. However, he didn’t want Kuchel to think he had a loose screw and needed his head for examination if he tried to explain this strange circumstance of romance—being in love with the dead.

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“I better go and sort out my paperwork for tomorrow.” He tried, attempting to avoid the topic, but the older woman could see right through him.

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She grabbed his arm just before he could leave. Kuchel looked like she wanted to say something important, yet the defeated look in her grey eyes seemed to convey that she had decided against it.

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“Make sure to get some rest, okay sweetheart? I don’t want you staying up all night long again.”

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Responding with a soft smile, Levi left the kitchen and made his way upstairs, leaving his mother to simply sigh in dismay at the fact that her son was clearly keeping something hidden from her.

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But she couldn’t blame him though, she herself was keeping secrets too.

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Levi found himself in the attic again, where there was a feeling of safety. A calm sanctuary, a dependable sense of home.

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All these ye-olden-times junk, were filled with memories, filled with faded echoes that had ebbed and flowed into the walls over the years. Maybe that’s why the attic felt so homely. It was full of history and love.

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Curiosity was difficult to satisfy; it was a force of nature that looked for answers even before asking questions. Curiosity had been unfairly maligned and characterized as a dangerous pursuit, as we were always taught that curiosity killed the cat.

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But Levi knew better. Curiosity created connections. It cultivated wonder, inquiry, and delight. It sprouted the desire to try, test, and tweak.

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He had been reading wisdom from a diary he formerly did not want to read. He had been finding beauty in places he formerly did not want to look in. And he had learned so much from journeys he formerly did not want to take.

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It made him wonder: how much of our lives are just luck and good timing, and how much of it was actually choice? How could it be that tiny serendipitous events could change so much of us?

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He felt like each choice he had made along the way was part of something bigger than himself. Fate has a funny way of intervening just when we think we have everything in order. And as he thought about all the events that led him to this place, it struck him: so much of life is just blind luck and random chance. With every twist and turn, our lives take us in different directions: you never know what's around the corner.

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Levi understood that the world was governed by randomness. That's why he pursued his curiosity with passion, because he understood that chance favored the prepared mind.ㅤ

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The short man rummaged through the attic, looking for more answers about you from outside the journal. He came across what seemed to be a pile of belongings, covered by an old, dusty cloth. Yanking it off, the sudden movement sent a vortex of dust into the previously stagnant air.

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And there it was, a portrait of you.

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It reflected the perfect image of your figure, with all the brilliant picturesqueness of your beauty. It was strange, the way in which you looked at Levi, looking so steadfastly at him through the medium of the oil painting. It’s like you were actually there, watching him with curious eyes.

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The power of your beauty held him fast, seizing him and filling a gap in his essence. There was grace in your every feature; it sparkled in your deep eyes, lurked in the corner of your lips, and even in the rich tone of your skin.

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It was nice to finally put a face to the name, Levi thought.

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The more he got to know you, the more he realized that you tick in all the boxes for the qualities he never knew he wanted in a woman.

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However, all of this was depressing. Because no matter how much he knew and liked you, he would never have the chance to call you his.

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3rd of September, 1821

I always tell myself that I would rather be happy than be dignified. That I can live alone, and I need not to sell my soul to marriage.

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But sometimes, my mind slips, gradually and subconsciously. And there is an involuntary mental process that conditions me to accept reality despite my desperate efforts to never give in to societal pressure.

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Once dreams wrangle with reality, we must rub our eyes open and wake up. The heavy weight of my circumstances has yet to fully sink in, but I am certain of one thing:

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I am to marry Elliott Dickens, duke of Marley.

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Everything moves so fast. My life will rush from heaven to hell in two weeks, when the wedding will take place. And the future will always happen, no matter how much I try to run away from it.

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The decision has been made, and I am going to be a new woman soon, I am going to be Mrs. Dickens. And I will be leaving everything behind, including this diary.

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To write my heart out—it was freedom to a degree I have not experienced much of before.

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But did that mean all my freedom had been used up? Because at the moment, I am unsure of what to write… How strange it is that when I feel most fervently, it is as though my hands and tongue are tied; I cannot express myself!

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This is going to be the last entry, thank you for making it this far with me.

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Last entry?

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A sense of sorrow set deep inside him. The persistent feeling of emptiness practically had Levi forced into submission and taken hostage by it. All he could do was stare into space, letting it wash over him.

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Was this it? Despite all your efforts, you still chose to marry the duke?

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Then what was the point of writing? Wasn’t it for silent revolution? For feminism? For freeing yourself?

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Or was it only meant for catharsis?

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Maybe it was. After all, writing was meant for those whose thoughts wouldn’t fit their limited mind. So, you used the power of words as a tool to pour your soul on paper. And Levi knew that.

Levi did not think of you as future Mrs. Dickens, a soon-to-be aristocratic wife of a duke. To him, you were simply you. For he knew you better than anyone else could have. He knew you were just a lonely girl, waiting to be read by someone, hoping that you would make sense to at least one person.

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He yearned to stay in this in-between place. Where he was both in modern times and in the past. Where romance existed everywhere and nowhere all at once.

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And just as you had written these entries for him to read, he knew with unshakable certainty that in those little moments, even in a dream, were more real and better than anything he’d known.

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How beautiful it was to replace the world inside him with someone else’s reality. The way you allowed him to look into your deepest fears and desires, your artful poems, your treasured secrets, your worst nightmares, and your most beautiful dreams.

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Your writings unraveled emotions inside him, uncovered new parts of him that were hidden, and breathed a new him into existence with each word that was written.

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It made him feel alive and vulnerable. It made him feel human.

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It made Levi feel so much that sometimes he wished all your poems he were written for him, because his heart, with its hooks, was looking for something—or someone—to love.

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It had been an awfully long day at work for Levi. Piles upon piles of documents never seemed to lessen. It also didn’t help that all he could think of was you, keeping his mind away from successfully accomplishing work.

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He was just about to enter his car when a small bell-like sound from his phone was heard.

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Clicking his tongue, he mumbled a quiet ‘what now’ out of frustration. It was a text from Kenny, which was weird since Kenny rarely contacted him.

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KENNY

5:27 PM

“Where the fuck are you?”

KENNY

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Frowning, Levi continued to read the message.

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5:28 PM

“It's your mother. The doctor is here at home, but they say it’s likely she wouldn’t make it through the night.”

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A heavy weight settled in his stomach. His heart pounded out of control.

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Shit.

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Kenny’s words kept playing on his mind like a broken record as he drove as fast as he could to get home, not caring about beating the red light. He mentally cursed at the fact that it took nearly an hour to get back to the countryside from work.

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The sun dipped below the horizon—the fleeting colors of dusk beginning to fade away—indicating the end of another day, and the end of another life.

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Upon parking the vehicle, Levi didn’t even bother closing the car door as he ran into the house and up the stairs.

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Dread increasing with every step, he saw Kenny and a short lady—most probably the doctor—standing in front of his mother’s room by the end of the hall, as if they were waiting for his arrival.

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Before the man could even yank the door open, he was stopped by the doctor. “I assume you’re Levi, Kuchel’s son? I’m Petra Ral, an oncologist from the specialist cancer team of your mother. May I have a minute?”

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It took everything in him to not scold at the ginger woman. What could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait after he’d check up on his mother?

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Despite the glare Levi was shooting at her, Petra continued her words, trying to phrase her message in a concise fashion, “The cancer in her breasts have spread to her lymphatic system, her lungs, liver, and bones-“

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“Just get to the point. So it’s incurable?”

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“I’m sorry Mr. Ackerman. There’s nothing more we can do about it.” There was a brief pause. Heavily sighing, the doctor continued, “As you know, according to her latest consultations these past months, the more intense chemotherapy sessions haven’t been successful so we-“

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“As I know? I wasn’t informed of this at all.” Levi shifted his gaze to his uncle, sending him an icy glare, “Kenny, you knew about this all along, haven’t you? That the cancer was terminal…”

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“It was Kuchel’s wish that I had to respect.”

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The younger Ackerman hasn’t even fully grasped the reality of his mother’s imminent death, and suddenly this bombshell was dropped on him? That he was kept in the dark all this time? He knew her condition wasn’t getting better, but he hadn’t expected death to be knocking on her door so early.

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He took a deep breath and reached for the door's handle, emotionally preparing himself from what he would be witnessing on the other side.

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Finally entering the room, “Mom,” Levi’s eyes had softened at the sight before him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He questioned right away, wasting no time. There was no malice in his voice, only pain.

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He knew why she kept this from him, but he still wanted to hear it from her.

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It was a good thing that Kuchel had closed her eyes, for if she had seen her son’s sorrowful expression, she might not have answered. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure at work, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

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“That’s irrelevant, you should have told me so I don’t have to take this all in just one night!”

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A few heartbeats were spent in silence. Both of them knew this would be their last night together, and the thought itself had them struggling to look for the right words to say in their limited time.

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There was a knot in her throat which seemed impossible to swallow, “Do you… do you forgive me..?”

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That was it; that was Levi’s breaking point. He couldn’t keep his normally stoic façade anymore, the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks finally fell. He hurriedly knelt at the bedside and his arms clasped around her tightly. If hugs healed people, he’d hold her all night.

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“Of course I do! I love you.”

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She smiled tenderly, though it was the saddest smile she had worn.

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“You have been a good son—the best even,” his dying mother said, “and all the love in your heart will help you along in the world.” One last rattling breath escaped Kuchel Ackerman’s lips as she was greeted by everlasting death.

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He kissed his dead mother’s hand and wept bitterly. Then, he lifted his feet to leave her bedroom.

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The rusty iron hinges of the door creaked loudly as Levi swung it open. He gave his uncle a knowing look: the look of grief.

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“I see.” was all Kenny muttered as the younger Ackerman hastily walked away to his own bedroom.

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He cried for hours, head under the pillow. And even in those hours, Levi could not find solace in tears. Overcome by weariness, darkness was finally kissing the edge of his vision and he surrendered himself to sleep.

ㅤㅤ

ㅤ

It was a strange dream. He saw his mother well and strong again, and heard her laugh as she always used to laugh when she was happy. And then appeared another woman—one with familiar deep eyes. It was you.

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He was confused. Why? Why were you and his mother standing before him?

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You stretched your arms out to give him a warm embrace. Levi didn’t care if this was all just a product of his imagination, he crashed himself against you, wanting to savor every second.

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It was a foreign feeling to be in your arms. Foreign, yet so nostalgic, so familiar, so… right.

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“I wish I were granted a good life, for life is a precious gift, almost too great to understand. Levi, thank you. Thank you for the gift of your love. It made me stay alive even after I am gone.”

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His hug tightened as your words registered in his head. Whatever this was, dream or reality, he just wanted to hold you, to feel you. You brushed his hair reassuringly, continuing with what you were saying, “And to think that this earthly affection will only continue to grow in another life, throughout eternity. I can barely conceive of it!”

ㅤ

The man was speechless. He wanted to say something, anything, but not a single word came from him.

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Levi shifted his gaze to his mother, silently searching for an explanation to this surreal circumstance. “Son, see what a charming girl you’ve won.”

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He gazed back at you, nothing but sincerity in his eyes. All it took was one look, and both of you knew. He pulled you in and pressed your mouth over his, claiming your lips so soft.

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So this is love, huh? And suddenly, Levi was just a man with the taste of honey upon his lips.

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He awakens from his slumber, and the pleasing sight was gone. Kuchel was gone. You were gone.

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Tears were running down his cold cheeks, yet his lips were warm. Wait, could that mean… could that mean that the kiss was real?

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Glancing to the clock: 8 in the morning. It seems as though he had slept through the night, giving temporary rest to his embittered soul. Though, he knew that the grief in his heart would not let him sleep for the next days to come.

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Recalling his dream, the man immediately got onto his feet with a specific destination in mind—the attic.

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As always, the dusty particles in the air reflected the sun-rays, looking like pixie dust. He walked farther into the attic, recognizing it as a place of enchantment.

ㅤ

Although he considered himself a logical person, he believed there existed a kind of magic in the books placed on the shelf, particularly in your diary. Secrets are magic after all, and years upon years that they've been written down on a book that had gotten dusty with age has added to its power.

ㅤ

Between the aging covers—represented by black letters on sheets of paper—were voices from the past. Voices that reached into the future, into Levi's own heart, and echoed in the walls of his mind.

ㅤ

He pulled the familiar diary from the shelf that expanded over the wall, hoping that despite your farewell, there was still going to be another entry, another piece for him to read, and another kiss of comfort to his writhing heart.

ㅤ

It was as if someone had literally knocked on the door; but in this case, his heart. With heavy anxiety, he opened to the part where he left off. Levi was certain that whatever deity or god was up there, they surely heard his heart's desperate pleas. Because much to his luck, there indeed was another page left unread.

ㅤ

14th of December, 1824

To whoever is reading this: we meet again at last! It is the first time in years that I have visited Paradis and since I have picked up a pen to write in this journal. Yet, this will also be the last time I do so.

ㅤ

All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me; I had no need for material possessions, money, nor dowry. And in all of my intercourse with society, there was nothing that made me feel as if I belonged to it. I never understood people very well, and they never seemed to understand me either.

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I write to understand myself as much as to be understood, but who am I kidding? Who else is ever going to read these personal writings other than myself?

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Even my own husband would not lend me some of his minutes to understand me.

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Elliott had not much affection for his own mother and sisters, then who am I to think I will make an exception to this behavior? Every nerve in my body feared him. Our servants were seemingly blind on the subject: pretending they never saw him strike nor abuse me. No one wanted to offend the duke by taking my part against him.

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But dear reader, I married him.

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Oh my poor heart, only death could release me from a life-sentence of agony in his hands! And the only regret I will have in dying is that it is not for love.

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In the next world, where there is no marriage, but where souls find each other through intimacy, may I attain true love.

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What?

ㅤ

Instead of the familiar coal-tar ink, the bottom half of the page was covered in splatters of blood—the ink of death. Levi’s breath caught in his throat as he tried not to tear at the sight. He wanted to look away, needed to bring his eyes away, but he couldn’t.

ㅤ

Flipping the next pages, it was all the same: empty. He knew what that meant.

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You had long been dead, but he felt it was as if you had just died in his arms that night. “You too? How the fuck have you managed to reach so far inside my heart?”

ㅤ

The love you shared with him was liquid, not literally of course: you reminded him that sometimes you were a friend, sometimes a teacher, and sometimes, even a soulmate. Levi used to laugh at the idea of soulmates—a supernatural concept not intended for mortals. But when you bridged the gap between life and death, perhaps soulmates weren’t a silly thing after all.

ㅤ

You found solace in this diary, and he found himself in your memories. You kissed the words unto his lips and skin, and his heart always heard and understood.

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a like & reblog would be appreciated <3

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palaceofpassion · 3 years

Text

Neo’s Arc

There is a reason this is getting posted here!

Neo silently grumbled as she stared at the lump of bedding in front of her. Her brow furrowed while the lump started to shuffle. She would have let out a sigh if only she had a voice. She grinned as a devious idea came to mind. She moved slowly, not to alert the beast below, her hands gripped the edge of the blanket. And with all the strength that her tiny arms could muster she pulled, with one fell swoop she pulled the massive beast down causing it to fall to the floor.

“Wha?!” With a loud thump a mop of blond hair hit the carpeted ground below. Dressed in a blue bunny onesie her dear only brother hit the ground, his head snapping up as his eyes darted around, panic obvious in his features. When his vision fell on her he simply pouted, his eyes squinting as he did his best to give her the most intimidating glare that he could muster. Which unfortunately for him wasn’t exactly much.

Neo Politan Arc stared her brother right in the eye, unflinching even as his gaze wavered. Finally after a few minutes he gave up, throwing his hands in the air she simply celebrated by smiling. “I’m awake, I’m awake.” He began to shuffle a little, scratching the back of his head as he stood up. Good, he was finally going to stop being lazy, they had an entire day to themselves, and she would not let him entertain the idea of sleeping through it!

Today was the only day since ever that she got to spend alone time with her favorite brother. All of their sisters and parents were out, opting on going on a trip to Shion, her and Jaune had both opted to stay back and relax. And… she was going to make sure that he finally realized her feelings for him. If even Saphron had somehow figured out that she was pining for their dopey brother, then there had to have been something wrong with Jaune! It took her literal years to realize that Terra had been into her, and Neo wasn’t about to let THAT happen, not when they could start their lovey dovey relationship early.

As he began to stand, she watched in awe and adoration as he pulled his shirt up, scratching his abdominal muscles. She nearly began to lick her lips at the sight of those finely sculpted muscles that SHE had helped create. It wasn’t that hard to get a good eye full either, considering that she seriously only came up to said muscles… She was a short girl okay?! Her sisters were somehow all taller than her, EVEN SAPH! And Saphron was crazy short compared to the others. Those Arc genetics, if only she had some of those… well she was planning to, just not in the normal way. She let herself smile slyly at the thought of being filled with her brother’s precious semen.

No, bad Neo! Save those thoughts for later. While she was apparently fighting with herself, Jaune had taken notice. She missed the way he cocked his head, or the way his hand moved to cup her cheek. She nearly jumped at the sudden warmth against her skin, but realizing it was him had decided against doing anything hasty. She felt his hand guide her gaze upward, even as he stroked her gently she felt herself leaning into his touch, she really did love this giant goof. “Hey everything okay?”

She simply nodded her head, lacking any other way of communicating with him that would force his hold on her to stop. She continued to nuzzle into his hand, even as he stood there, she knew it was odd but he never complained when she did it. She couldn’t help but remember the first day she met her dopey literally big brother.

Neo couldn’t even remember her family, she’d spent so many days on the street. She could only do what she could to survive, and when that was everything she could, well she didn't have time to think about her family. So when she had tried to steal from a goofy looking couple she’d learned that not everything is as it seems. Apparently the couple had been ex-huntsmen, and unfortunately for her she was still a little girl.

When they had caught her she obviously panicked, no one had managed to see through her little thefts. But then they had surprised her, instead of taking her to the police they had taken one look at her. And in what could have been described as the most confusing moment her entire life they had pulled her into a big hug. She had broken down then and there, not really understanding WHAT had just happened, but the warmth of another human being had pulled at her heart.

She had for the first time in ages felt at ease. Thankfully that sense of ease had continued, they to her grand surprise had taken her home. After getting her cleaned up they’d introduced her to the whopping 8 children they already had. And then to continue the surprise, they had informed her that she would now be part of their family. She hadn’t really realized HOW this had happened, she’d tried to steal from them for goodness sakes! But here they were, adopting her, and to her surprise the children had taken quite the liking to her.

No one was making fun of her odd hair colors or eyes, no one was trying to hurt her. Instead they’d accepted her, and none more so than the tiny boy, who she had mistaken as a girl at first. She had become instantly attached to Jaune, as he’d go out of his way to make sure she was happy and or comfortable. She remembered the first night she’d spent in the house, fear of a new place, of the unknown, of being dumped again had filled her heart and she’d had the worst nightmares that she ever had.

But, apparently he’d noticed, that same night had been what solidified and started the feelings that would bloom into full on love in the future for her. He’d pulled her into a tight hug and had fallen asleep with her in his arms. He’d taken the time to hold her, to care for her, and that had just been the start.

When they had begun to teach her sign language, Jaune had joined in, having wanted to understand her as well. From that day onwards the two of them had been inseparable. Whenever they went out, they were often considered a pair. And as they got older, Neo had noticed that her gangly brother had grown! There had been a point in their lives when she had been taller than him, but that had only been when they were children. Around his sixteenth birthday he had a huge growth spurt.

Where she stood at a tiny 4’3” he stood at a tall 6’1”. It had taken him some time to get used to his new found height, but he did eventually. Still… there was something about the height difference that lit a fire in her belly. She hadn’t even realized she was sexually attracted to him till recently either. One night she had walked into the shower without realizing that it had been occupied. He hadn’t locked the door, like the doof he was.

And then she saw it, his body, soaked and dripping with water. His normally messy hair was pressed and matted down with water, and oh wow the way he had glistened. She had felt that fire in her belly churn and burn with the intensity of the sun. Then she’d caught sight of IT, her eyes couldn’t help but look lower, it wasn’t her fault she was so tiny! But there it was, not even at full mast, hanging from his front a massive rod veered downwards. She had taken biology, and they had gone over sex-ed in school. But seeing an actual penis for the first time had… well it had done things to her.

It didn’t help that it had been from her precious brother either. She would NEVER forget the sight, having made sure to burn the very image into her brain for later use. Still, she’d managed to slip away before he had taken notice, and it was from that day on that she had started to look at him differently. She had already started helping him train, they would be off to Beacon soon after all. But, well… that training got just a little harder, a little sweatier. And their close contact had gotten just a bit… well there were times when she’d slide across him. Gripping onto his biceps, his thighs, his chest, all while he was nice and sweaty. She would shiver at the thought whenever it came up.

“Neo?” Her pink and brown eyes fluttered as she looked back into his sapphire blues. “You uh, you alright there?”

Once more she simply nodded, her memories having gotten the best of her. She stepped away from his hand, though she still longed for his touch. Quickly she began to motion, her fingers doing the talking for her when her own voice wouldn’t. ‘What were you saying?’

“Oh right, uhm what did you want to do today?” He paused, looking at her with that stupid, goofy, lovely smile on his face. “I know I promised we’d do something together, since we don’t really get the chance to anymore.” Once more he scratched the back of his head, that cute little nervous tick of his.

She quickly nodded her head, right right that. What DID she want to have them do together? There were so many things, so many things she COULD do. But… but had she not tried yet? What HADN’T she done to get his attention? She just didn’t know, couldn’t comprehend what else she could do at this point. She’d almost given up honestly, he was just so dense, he wouldn’t get the hints . The way that she would sway her hips when she knew he was looking, or the way that she would press her massive breasts together when she knew he was staring at them.

Oh right, there was that, apparently all her growth had gone into her damned boobs instead of her height. Her watermelon sized breasts were nothing but cumbersome, though at least she HAD caught him looking from time to time. That always did make her feel better. Still, she needed to think of something, of anything that could get them together. Then a thought hit her, there WAS something she could do, something she could try… It was tricky and well… he could hate her. But she was getting desperate at this point, she’ wanted, no yearned for his touch! And she was going to have it one way or another Brothers damn it!

She turned back to him, her fingers quickly dashing around her hands as she asked him the simple question. ‘Do you promise to do whatever I ask?’ He looked at her for a moment, though not out of suspicion but out of the correct answer. Then he finally nodded.

“Yeah, I promise and an Arc…”

‘Never goes back on their word.’ She finished, a soft smile on her face as she fondly remembered the family motto. Okay here it was, she was going to do it, taking a deep breath she began to move her fingers. She didn’t even need to finish before his face was beat red.

“Oh uhm! Uh… are you uhm…”

‘You promised.’ She signed back to him, he had promised and she knew he would make sure that he stuck with it.

Jaune’s face felt like it was on fire, he hadn’t expected this… maybe he should have honestly. When his sister asked, no demanded that they shower together. He… he’d nearly frozen, thankfully he’d had enough of his wits about to ask her if she was sure. And she was absolutely sure if her response of you promised was anything to go by. He… he was afraid, not because of her no, but of himself! He had… he had for the longest time fought hsi base urges. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that every last one of his sisters was a beauty. From Saphron’s homely yet gorgeous looks to his other sisters super model esque appeal. And Neo was no exception, but what made it worse was that at least with his blood related sisters it was taboo, he had the excuse that he couldn’t touch them because they were blood related.

But Neo? No, she wasn’t related to him by blood, they weren’t related in a way that would be considered incestous. But… but she was still his sister, and… and she was gorgeous. She was what one would call a shortstack. Massive breasts which went against her height, hips to die for, and an ass that you could bounce a quarter off of. He wasn’t stupid either, he’d seen the way she looked at him, the way that she… that she looked as if she wanted to jump his bone.

He had… he had for the longest time not understood why, he had tried his best to pretend like he didn’t. To not give into his own urges, because he KNEW she could do better. He was just… he was just Jaune. He didn’t DESERVE to have someone as amazing, or beautiful, or as loving as Neo fall for him. She deserved better, a better man or woman, someone that wasn’t him. But… even though he thought this, even though he kept on telling himself that he couldn’t that he shouldn’t. He really wanted to, god she was just so unfairly gorgeous. He knew that she’d caught him staring sometimes, that she’d seen the way he watched her breasts bounce, or the way he REALLY enjoyed their ‘wrestling’.

But he had done it, had pretended not to feel anything but now? Now that they would be naked together, covered in water, soaked to the bone? He… “Okay…” He felt like he was going to give in, and there was a part of him that wanted that, that wanted to ravage her. He was SURE he wanted to, SURE that he wanted to take her before any other man could. So, when he suddenly found himself in the bathroom, the shower already running as hot water slammed into him. He could only think of clean thoughts, his eyes stuck on the tile of the shower, as he did his best to keep himself calm. Even as the door opened, as the sound of her footsteps following, and finally the sound of the glass door opening. He did his best to keep himself as sane as possible. Then he felt her hand on his back, he wasn’t going to be able to, he just knew it.

His body stiffened when he felt something, or rather somethings, pressed against his back. He dared not turn around, opting to keep his vision on the wall. He knew what was happening, he knew that he was going to give in. He knew that his sister wanted this, but he… he was so afraid, afraid that things wouldn’t work out and it would hurt their family. As his resistance crumbled he felt a single prick against his shoulder. Then movement, she was writing on his back, her finger darting frantically all to say one single thing.

‘I love you.’ His breath stilled as he swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart thumped in his chest, his ears fell deaf as the sound of thumping filled his senses. His brain worked over time as he tried his best to think of what to say. But… did he really need to think? Didn’t he already know what he wanted, didn’t he already feel the same? His eyes drew open as he turned around, his gaze lowered down to match hers.

He couldn’t believe the look in her eyes, the sense of helplessness that he didn’t think he would ever see in her visage. But there it was, she was afraid, afraid that he would not return her feelings afraid that he would hate her. And… and she was wrong in doing so, his hands slipped between her armpits, gently he pulled her up so that their faces were close together. “I love you too.” He whispered into her ear, he didn’t need to see the tears, or hear the silent sniffles. He could tell by the way she pressed her head into the curve of his neck. She was crying, and as her arms wrapped around his he felt a warmth in his chest, one he’d longed for for the last decade.

He knew she couldn’t speak, nor would she if she could, but he could feel her lips move against his skin. He could imagine her voice screaming, I love you over and over. He knew that she was doing her best to be strong, but it must have taken all of her courage to even get this far.

Even as his blood pumped from his heart, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, he knew that he felt the same. He truly did, “I love you so much.” He grew thankful for the hot water that dripped upon them, especially as his own tears began to seep from the corners of his eyes. “You mean so much to me… I’m so sorry that… that I didn’t respond sooner.”

He felt her grip tighten around him, her nails sunk into his back as she held onto him with all her strength.

It was then that he realized something, his face burned with embarrassment as his lower member rubbed against Neo’s leg. She’d apparently noticed this too as she was writing on his back again.

‘Excited I see~’

“I uhm… I mean!” He didn’t have an excuse, with Neo’s well endowed bosom pressed against his chest he had no way of stopping his penis from growing hard. “Yeah…”

He could have sworn he heard a giggle as she tapped his back, without having to be told anything he placed her back down gently. He swallowed hard, really getting a look at her. Her large bountiful bust bounced beautifully. He always knew they were big, but seeing them in the raw, bear mounds of flesh dripping with water that rolled down her fatty curves really got him going. And… and it didn’t help with how short she was, her breasts were in the perfect place.

Neo stared in awe at the beast in front of her. As it turned out she actually WAS the perfect height. In front of her, pressing against the crevice of her large breasts was his big, hard, throbbing, cock. In plain view for the very first time, she’d seen it before for sure, but this? This was amazing. She was up and close with it, the heat that radiated off of the blood filled member sent chills down her spine. She was afraid that simply touching it would burn her, but she wanted to hold it, to feel it against her flesh.

Her eyes drew to his abdomen, his muscular body appealed to her sense of taste. She felt herself become hypnotized as droplets of water dripped between each crevice. She could watch it all day if she was given the chance. Then her eyes scanned upwards, her vision fell upon his, he was looking at her with the gaze of a beast. A predator looking at the prey he was about to devour, and she loved every bit of it.

Though, she wasn’t just some herbivore ready to be eaten. No, she was just as hungry as he was, taking the first step she pushed forward. She felt him quiver against her touch as her breasts pressed against his pelvis. Her massive mammaries sandwiched his cock perfectly within the endless valley. She could feel his pulse pumping through his hard throbbing cock even through her large fatty chests. She could feel it down to her very core, her womb ached and trembled with excitement.

“Wait uhm hooooOOool!” Neo didn’t let Jaune finish his comment, pressing her arms against her breasts she squeezed his massive cock between her mountainous breasts. “OooOoh okay!” She almost giggled at how frazzled he’d become, still she had a job to do. Releasing her left breast she reached around his back, grabbing a bottle of body wash. “Neeeeo whaaaaat oooooh!” Squeezing the bottle she let a stream of soap drip between her crevice and onto his cock.

Squeezing her breasts together again, she began to pump and use her arms to move her breasts up and down. Her fatty flesh molded around his massive cock. She could feel it pulse and throb against her skin, “Ggg daaaamn.” She felt a sense of pride fill her bosom at the obvious pleasure her beloved was getting from this little experience.

Her motions grew faster as she began to use her bob up and down using her feet to bounce off her heels. The soap began to later around as bubbles formed between his impressive member, which managed to peek through even when nearly consumed by her massive canyon. Her back arched back as she pushed herself further against him. A sense of excitement filled her belly as her nipples pressed and rubbed against his muscular abdomen. Pleasure coursed through her little body as she moved faster and faster. Her pace quickened when she felt him start to churn. His cock throbbed madly as he was reaching his peak.

His panting grew louder the closer he got. She knew it would only be a matter of time now, he was a virgin or at least she hoped, so he shouldn’t be much lo…

She didn’t get to finish that thought as thick streams of white goo erupted between her breasts. A thick white flood of hot cum splattered around covering her tits in a thick matted goo. She nearly flinched as the hot sensation spread across her bust. “Ohh… oh dang… wow…”

Neo could tell his breathing was ragged, she could FEEL his chest move as even his abdomen rose and fell. “That was… wow…”

She didn’t know if he could get it up again, but… but this had been the first step and she was just happy that he was happy.

She was about ready to clean herself up when suddenly she felt his hands wrap around her waist again. “Uhm… would you… would you like to go all the way?”

Casting a curious glance up his way she was about to question what he meant when she felt it. His cock pressed against her chest once more. Her eyes shot wide open as the massive beast reformed, standing at full attention his powerful shaft had regained all of it’s vigor in a matter of seconds.

A smile flashed across her lips as she snapped her gaze back to him. She was more than ready for more of this! She’d waited who knows how long, and now that it was in front of her, she wanted it. ‘Yes!’

“Oh okay! Just uhm… there’s been something I’ve always wanted to do.”

Cocking her eyebrow she couldn’t help but grow curious at what he meant. “If you want me to stop just uhm tell me okay?”

Before she could ask him, he’d picked her up again, his hands firmly grasped her waist, his fingers digging into her young nubile flesh. Then it hit her, he wanted to carry her, to bounce her up and down his massive bitch breaker, all while standing up! That, WOW, she didn’t think he had it in him. But when she felt the heat between her legs burn like a wildfire, well she couldn’t say she wasn’t interested.

She bit her lip as she felt a piercing sensation between her thighs. Her heart throbbed in her chest as she did her best to keep her gaze upon his, “If I hurt you, please stop me okay?”

Though she nodded, she had no intention of stopping now. There would be nothing on Remnant that could stop what was about to happen, not if she could help it.

Her jaw clenched as she felt the tip press against her moist lips. Her pussy quivered in anticipation, her womb throbbed practically begging for the inevitable. “Okay.” Was his only warning as her body seized. The tip pushed into her entrance splitting the entrance of her pussy open. Grinding her teeth together she took it, “Are you… are you okay?” She could tell that he was doing his best to stand, his body wobbled whether it was due to pleasure or the new sensation she didn’t know.

She did the only thing she could to let him know she was fine, she nodded her head against his chest. “Okay.” She would have giggled at any other time, but when she felt him push further, when she felt her walls contract around his massive cock she could only dig her nails into him. She knew that he’d keep her steady that his strong grip around her waist would hold, but there was a part of her that felt like she needed to hold on, that she needed to keep herself steady.

Inch by inch she could feel him pushing further, her tight passage stretched around his member, molding into his shape. She knew now and then that she’d never be satisfied with another man. Even as the tip pressed against her womb, the head kissing her cervix and pushing against it. She knew that her body couldn’t ever be filled by another. She let out a silent gasp as he pressed further, his cock pushing against her insides reshaping her organs in ways she hadn’t realized were possible. She trembled in his arms as he pushed all the way in, she couldn’t see it, but she was sure that there were tricklets of blood running down her leg as they finally settled against her.

She could feel him trembling as well, his legs threatening to give way. She could feel his hot breath against her head as, his breathing was erratic and his heart thumped loudly in her ears. “I… okay… lets…” She nodded, not needing him to finish, and for what felt like an eternity she allowed herself to rest against his body. He filled her in a way that transcended the physical, she finally felt right. The love she’d yearned for had filled her heart and her passage with everything she had hoped it would.

After a few minutes she felt his hands move around her back, wrapping around her to keep her held tight. “I’m going to start moving you, okay?” She nodded again, wrapping her arms around his neck so she could help balance herself.

Then it started, his legs bucked as he pulled her up, slowly she felt her insides shift back to normal as he pulled out. She felt a strange sense of longing even though she knew what was to come. Finally he pulled out about halfway before he pushed in again, his hips jerked slowly as the tip pressed against her womb again. His head pressuring her insides and shifting her womb upwards.

She had never been more grateful for aura till now if she was being honest. Then he moved again, her vaginal canal split wide again as he pushed inside of her once more. With each thrust he grew more confident, and she’d become more accustomed to his girth. By the 5th time he’d pushed against her cervix she’d found herself bouncing up and down against his hips. His arms gripped her tightly as they shifted her up and down, her arms pulled against his shoulders as he slipped in and out of her. His cock continued to pump in and out, his member throbbed and scraped against her canals.

Each ridge ground against each vein, their bodies met against one another over and over. She could feel him punch against her cervix, with newfound confidence came a more rapid rut. Her back arched as she released a silent moan, her hips ground against his as she tried to get him further and further in. She wanted more, wanted him to pound her like he owned her. She NEEDED the sense of longing, the sense of a primal breeding.

She’d lost herself to her own lust as he continued to slam into her, his mighty cock began to pummel into her over and over. Her hastily mositening pussy aided him in his attempts to violate her. Her body trembled in pleasure as her eyes shot open. Despite the carnal desire that burned at her, she couldn’t look away from his eyes. His gorgeous sapphire eyes that looked at her with love and adoration.

Even lost in her passion she could FEEL the warmth, the sense that she was in fact loved! “I love you.” His words pierced through the sound of their rutting flesh. “I love you!” His grip on her grew tighter as his nails dug into her flesh. She responded in kind with her, own fingers raking upon his shoulders as she tried to pull herself closer.

Thankfully he could feel what she wanted, and even in their sex addled minds they pulled closer. He lifted her up as their lips met against one another. Warmth spread from her lips all the way to her core, her uterus pulsed as pleasure shook her very being. Her mind grew hazed, and like she had before but oh so much stronger she knew that she was about to enter another orgasm. Her body quaked and trembled as she felt her lights grow dim. His tongue invaded her mouth as she wrapped hers around his, their bodies acted as one as thick globs of semen filled her.

Her body pulsed as she writhed in pleasure, his seed spurted into her womb, filling her insides to the brim. She could feel herself doused in his color, even as their lips refused to part she knew that he was hers as much as she was his. Their hearts thumped in sync as she rested upon his body. She knew not if she was covered in sweat or in the water from the shower, but all she knew was that they would need to clean up again.

“I love you…”

She smiled, she loved him too, and she would have it no other way. This was the path she wanted and yearned for.

#neopolitian (rwby)#Jaune Arc #Psuedo Incest

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY UPDATE!

PART FIVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: flirting, alcohol, mentions of smoking Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: This chapter is so cute to me. Pajama party anyone? As always, thanks to the actual best editor alive today, @lantern-inthenight

MASTER POST

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed

@bigblack-catattack @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies

It was undeniable that winter was on its way. The weekend brought predictions for temps in the lower 40’s and, even in the warmth of the apartment, you felt perpetually chilled.

Kate had messaged you late on Friday asking if you wanted to get coffee Saturday morning, and you had excitedly agreed to meet her at the local cafe called The Daily Grind (which, admittedly, you chose because of the cute name).

She had seen you bundled up like a burrito in two sweatshirts and a long-sleeved tee underneath and laughed, but you explained to her how you had never really been in temps this cold before.

Your fingers were wrapped as tight as they could go around your mocha as you watched her sip her black coffee, her maroon-painted lips leaving a mark on the white mug.

“When we’re done here, would you want to go with me to a thrift store? My mom sent some money for me to buy warmer clothes when she saw the weather for this area,” you said with an excited tone. “She’s afraid I’m going to get pneumonia.”

She hummed in an interested tone. “That sounds like fun. Which one do you wanna check out first?”

“You’ve been around here longer, so I’ll let you pick.”

“The one on Maple is the one where all the rich sorority girls go, so I bet you’d find some good stuff there,” she informed, tapping her nails against the ceramic.

You beamed a smile, relishing in the sunny feeling that only spending time with other girls gave you. “You wanna drive or me?”

+++

“Do you think if I buy a pair of jeans a size too big I could get away with wearing leggings under them?” you asked, flicking through the hangers. “I feel like the wind here cuts right through my denim.”

“Maybe two sizes bigger so you can wear sweatpants.” You knew she was teasing you by her playful tone, but that was actually kind of brilliant, you thought. “You should try this one.”

You had to get onto your tippy toes to see her over the long rack. She was holding up a soft-looking sweater, multicolored horizontal stripes running across the fabric. The color pattern reminded you of Twiggy from the ’60s.

“It’s cute,” you agreed, taking it as she handed it to you. By the time you were ready for a fitting room, you had a pile of things and the employee on duty looked not very excited to have to put them back when you were done, but luckily she wouldn’t have to. Pretty much everything fit perfectly.

You were shocked to see the total - where you were from, all of that would have been well over $60, even second hand, but you ended up forking over a measly $35, and you figured most of that total was from the nearly new jacket you had found.

As she was driving you back to the coffee shop, you exclaimed giddily, “I’m so excited to have warm clothes. Now Josh can finally have his sweatshirts back.”

She looked over at you surprisedly. “That’s Josh’s?”

“Yeah, he gave me three and I’ve been alternating between them.” You reached forward to turn her radio up a notch, Janet Jackson’s “All For You” perking your ears.

“Are you sure he wants them back?” she asked, giving you a coy smile that you didn’t understand.

You adopted a puzzled look. If she was alluding to something, it was lost on you. “Why wouldn’t he? They’re still perfectly fine - I was even careful not to get my perfume on them.”

Now stopped at a red light, she turned to give you a squinty look until she seemed to realize you were serious. “Nevermind,” she relented, smirking forward at the road.

When you got back home, Josh was gone. You shot him a message inquiring as to his whereabouts and started snipping the tags off of your new clothes with a pair of pruning shears. You were exponentially grateful for the fact that the washing machine in your building had been repaired - and with a shocking amount of haste too.

The smell of the laundry room down the hall was pleasant. It reminded you of the times when your mom would wash all the towels and blankets in the house, and that was a job that either required a laundromat, or an entire day switching loads.

At the end of your shopping day, you made out with three new sweaters, two pairs of thicker jeans, a new coat, a winter hat, and an actual pajama set, which would be infinitely warmer than the shorts and tank top you’d moved in with.

You cheerily popped your new clothes into the washer, along with a tide pod, some of your bras and underwear, and closed the lid.

Around 1 pm, Josh still wasn’t back and hadn’t replied, so you decided it was a perfect time to work on some self-care. The yoga mat you had packed had yet to see the light of day in Michigan, so you dug it out, unrolled it in your room, changed into some easy clothing, and pulled up a beginner’s tutorial on your phone. By the thirty-minute mark, you were sweating and tired, but the stretch in your muscles was oddly pleasant on top of the discomfort, so you pushed yourself to keep going until the video was done. The cute blonde running the tutorial suggested you take some time in your cool down to look inward, as she thought that was a big part of yoga. So, you laid there on the mat, staring up at your ceiling for a good, long while, just taking time to reflect and enjoying it.

Your room, and the whole apartment really, had become home so quickly. You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to test the theory before, but you had always imagined that leaving home would make you feel out of place.

But you didn’t.

Sure, you missed home in the way that any human that came from a loving and supporting family would, but you were expecting to ache for it. You had taken a long time in your backyard and in your favorite spot back home, just so you could have a final fix, but all that was to you now was a fond memory.

After a few moments of being alone with your thoughts, you were going to get up and take a shower, but you had decided to postpone it. While you were staring up at the ceiling, you realized that there was a lot of unused space that the sun hit toward the top of the room. Wasted sun was a felony in your book. You spent about an hour pulling down your curtain rod, removing the fabric, and replacing it with hanging pots of all sizes and lengths.

Your string of hearts, your pearls, your golden pothos - the thought of them being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes in the morning was one that made you feel sentimental. You’d just have to be careful with watering.

Once you were satisfied with the placements, you made your way to the bathroom. As you waited for the shower to heat up to a tolerable temperature, you took some time to pluck any stray hairs around your eyebrows and gently brush the knots out of your hair. Self-care had always felt like a long term investment to you - one well worth it.

The warm spray of the shower felt amazing on your tired muscles, so you took your sweet time getting clean and enjoying it, then blow-drying your hair on low heat when you were finished. After, you excitedly got out your new pajama set, clipped the tags, and put it on.

Shortly thereafter, you heard a key slip into the lock on the front door. You were cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on your freshly scrubbed skin as you watched through the complete second season of the Simpsons, popcorn in your lap.

When he stepped into the house, he raised his eyebrows at you, surveying the area.

“What?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

“Just looking for the books and the homework.” You rolled your eyes at him before he continued on with, “I just always assumed that when I wasn’t around, you were doing boring, adult things.”

You gave him a playful shrug as you gestured to the noticeably book free space around you.

He squinted at you suddenly. “Are you in your pajamas? You know it’s like 3:30 in the afternoon, right?”

“They’re new!” you quipped. “And I was excited to wear them. You don’t have to be jealous, you could go get yours on and join me.”

The offer seemed to be tempting him. “I have a better idea. How about you go change, and we’re going to go to a party tonight.”

You scowled at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you crazy? I’m already in my pajamas. I’ve already taken my bra off! Once it’s off, it doesn’t go back on.”

He laughed, loud and unabashed, showing you all of his teeth. The sound made your cheeks flush.

“C’mon, I bet Kate will be there,” he reasoned. “And I obviously will be. And I’m positive Jake will be too. This might be your chance to get them to hook up.”

You bit your bottom lip in consideration. “The timing would be kinda perfect; she could have the whole day tomorrow to process it and then tell me about it on Monday.”

He was smirking at you when you looked back up at him, making you tuck your hair behind your ear anxiously. “If I come, do you promise not to leave me alone?”

He nodded at you confidently. “I will not leave you.”

The very first thing you did was message Kate. It was vital that she was there, just in case Josh got too drunk to remember his promise. You didn’t have a hard time socializing, per-say. You were just nervous about your first real social event here.

Josh was right though - it wouldn’t kill you to make some more friends.

When you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth, Kate messaged back saying that she would never miss getting to see you drunk, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you had to drive, so you opted to leave that part out. You worked on picking out a good, sensible outfit and took your time to put on makeup again. Admittedly, it felt kind of nice - you used to wear a full beat all the time, but somewhere along the line it started to feel tedious, which is something you never wanted any of your favorite things to feel, so you put the whole idea of it on the shelf for a while.

When you finally emerged from your room around 8, Josh was sitting on the kitchen counter, phone in his hands as he furiously typed out a message. You listened to the pleasant sound of his fingers tapping on the glass screen for a moment before speaking.

“Who are you messaging?” you asked, but it didn’t grab his full attention right away.

“Just one of the other theater guys,” he said through a near sneer. The only time you ever saw him looking distressed was when it came to his production. “Trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with my own production-”

When he looked up at you the rest of his thoughts seemed to escape him, all the emotion in his face and posture crumbling away.

You folded your hands together, giving him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

He tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants, abandoning whatever he had been so intent on doing just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I just haven’t ever seen you dressed up before.”

The extra attention made you slump back against the hallway wall, giving him a nervous grimace. Through pursed lips, you asked, “Is it too much?”

His eyes popped open, along with his mouth. It took him a moment to speak actual words - like he wanted to say a lot all at once. “What? No! I’m just stupid,” he assured, running his fingers through his curls. “It took my brain a moment to process.”

You gave him a forgiving smile, opening the fridge and grabbing out a carton of juice. He watched as you took a swig, letting you swallow before asking, “Do you want me to drive?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, finger swiping away a stray droplet. “Can you?”

“Drive?” he laughed. “Yes. I can drive.”

“Legally?” you pressed, handing over the carton to him when you caught him eyeing it. He took a drink right from the spout as well, giving you a wink that made you lovingly roll your eyes.

+++

You two seemed to unintentionally match. He was in a pair of khaki pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a denim jacket on top. You were positive he was going to freeze solid one of these days because he always seemed to be way underdressed for the weather.

As you went to get out of the car, he stopped you with a touch to your knee. “You should take off your jacket and hat and leave them in here; I wouldn’t ever trust leaving them unattended at a party.” He paused before speaking again. “Not that anyone would necessarily steal them, just that people get drunk and think stuff is theirs.”

“Like you did with the wallet?” you teased, making him rub at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he said pointedly through a grin. “Like that.”

He held the sleeve of your jacket as you shrugged out of it, abandoning it into the back seat. You took just a second to mourn the fact that it would be cold when you went to put it back on.

In the rearview mirror, you fixed your hair, having been mussed by the removal of your hat, and then stepped out. He ushered you along first, reaching past you and pushing the door open for you when you had reached it. The music hit you like a wall, loud and energetic - followed quickly by the smell of alcohol. A cloud of smoke hung subtly near the ceiling, giving the room an air of mystery. You realized you hadn’t made a move to enter the house when you felt his hand on the middle of your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, just above the volume of the music. You nodded, feeling silly for holding him up, and stepped inside.

People were moving to the music like blood reacting to a heartbeat, swaying around to the rhythms all in a pleasant unison. The scene was oddly hypnotic as the colors danced around.

The second that people could see Josh behind you, they started calling his name. Your stomach lurched for a second, scared that he was either going to leave you or drag you to a group that you didn’t know, but he waved them off instead.

“I’ll catch you guys in a minute,” he shouted through a grin so charming they couldn’t seem to muster up a shred of annoyance toward him. Then, he spoke the next part right against your ear. “You want a drink?”

“Just one,” you agreed with a nod, shivering ever so slightly as his breath hit your cheek.

In the kitchen, huddled around an island covered by bottles, was a group of people, all very visibly drunk. One of those people was Kate, dressed in a crisp looking pair of jeans, a white crop top, and a red checkered flannel shirt, left open to expose her midriff.

When she caught sight of you, she gave you a big, toothy smile. The sharp fringe of her bob moved just enough to sometimes expose a pair of gold disk earrings.

“Need a drink?” she asked as she broke away from the rest of the crowd. “I’ll make it for you.”

You put your hands up, laughing at her enthusiasm. “I’m going to let Josh make it for me,” you informed, knowing full well that she would make it strong enough to get you drunk and keep you in that state for the whole evening.

The one that Josh ended up making for you was, undeniably, a rum and Coke. Not your most favorite thing ever, but then again, this one was mostly just Coke. You made a mental note to thank him for being so considerate.

The three of you ended up in the living room, right in the throws of all the action. You’d been to a few parties back home, but this felt kind of different. Back home, it was always hot, so the parties usually spilled out into the yard in all directions. Come to think of it, you’d never been to a party where the guests weren’t making prominent use of the pool. But here everyone was packed in tightly, making a large house feel tiny.

Kate found you all a nice little corner with a love seat and some kind of weird puff you think you were meant to put your feet on. Settling in there meant you’d have to share the space with a couple of other people, but it felt worth it to not be standing in the middle of the room. Being out in the open made you feel nervous - like you were being circled by sharks.

The songs changed, but the beat seemed to stay pretty much the same, making it easy for the time to slip by without your acknowledgment. By the time you checked your watch, it was nearly eleven.

True to his word, Josh didn’t leave your side the whole night. People kept popping in and out to get a word with him. You couldn’t hear them well because he was sat across from you, but he was laughing quite a bit. Some of it looked kind of forced, but most of it seemed genuine - like he was actually having a nice time.

It wasn’t until you were close to getting ready to leave that you saw Jake making his way down the stairs, one hand on the wooden railing to steady himself and the other wrapped around a red cup. You flashed him a smile when his eyes landed on you, and he gave you one back, giving you a feather-light punch to your shoulder when he reached you.

“Move over,” he demanded in Josh’s direction, sitting nearly on top of him on the couch, with only light complaints from his twin.

“You smell like sex,” Josh said through a fake grimace, pressing his elbow into Jake’s ribs.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jake responded with a smirk, lifting the cup to his lips as you giggled at him.

The realization struck you as his eyes landed on Kate next. “Oh, Jake, this is my friend Kate. Kate, Jake Kiszka.”

She reached out and took his hand to shake and at the same moment, Josh laid his hand on your leg and through a grin, asked, “Should we take off?”

You laughed, giving him a nod.

“Kathrine, Jacob,” Josh started, clapping his hands together in front of him. “We are leaving. See you guys soon?”

“We should actually get tacos,” Kate stated seriously to the group as a whole, and then just to Josh said, “And my name is Kathleen.”

#brightest blue fic #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh gvf fic

215 notes · View notes

dionnaea · 4 years

Text

Promises

pairing: kenny ackerman x reader (platonic), slight levi x reader

warnings: angst, character death, mild swearing

wc: 4.4k

a/n: so, so sorry this took so long!! i decided to combine these two requests and change them up a little, so i hope that’s okay! i’m really proud of this piece, so i hope you all enjoy it, too. xx

side note: technically this is a sequel to my other fic Pot Meet Kettle but it’s not entirely necessary to read that first.

requests:

Your writing’s so good I’m cryin’... Also, I’d LOVE to see what you have in mind for Kenny and Reader’s background! 👀 Were they both underground? was Reader already in the Corps when they met?? did she learn how to punch creeps from Kenny?? Plus I’m very curious about what he meant by her fixing broken hearts!

could you do a part 2 to the pot meet kettle levi fic? i really loved it and i think it would be cool if you could write a part 2 based off the kenny vs levi scene in season 3? like maybe kenny sees the reader and he's like good to see you again and levi is like mf what idk im not creative :(( sorry if this isn't enough

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

After Rod Reiss had been taken down, the scouts were sent to search the ruined fields for survivors. It was unlikely that any were left, but Erwin was adamant that no soldier would be left behind. You respected him for that, and went on your way to do your job.

As you wandered, you ran into a returning scout, someone you didn’t know the name of but were sure had been paired with the Captain for this mission. His head was down as he walked, like there was something he had seen that he shouldn’t have, and your mind began to fill with worries for Levi. Had something happened?

Making your steps slightly heavier in the grass so that he would notice you, the man finally looked up, quickly saluting to his superior. You brushed him off, instead getting down to business.

“Where’s Captain Levi, cadet?”

The man’s eyes darted away from your own before he answered. “Taking care of something, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the soldier’s weary tone. “Oh? And what is he taking care of, might I ask?” Everything about this seemed peculiar, and you weren’t having it.

“I don’t know. Something… personal.” When he finally met your gaze, he relented, sacrificing the Captain’s privacy for his own sake, too scared to see what your reaction would be if he kept playing coy. “He’s that way, by the big oak tree,” he stated, pointing in the direction he came.

You squinted, making out the shadow of the tree in the setting sun. You dismissed the cadet, and quickly made your way towards Levi, his body becoming clearer as you approached. Once you were a reasonable distance away, you called out, but were met with silence. As your worry grew, you moved faster, only stopping when you realized what was going on.

Levi was kneeling, his body covering the person in front of him. It didn’t matter, you’d recognize those spurs anywhere.

“Kenny?” The name was uttered in disbelief, and as you stepped around Levi, your eyes grew wide with fear. “Kenny!”

Immediately, you jumped into action, your scout training taking hold of your body as you knelt by your friend. Your hands hovered over his burnt and bloodied body, not knowing where to start but ignoring the possibility that it was too late. “How… How do I help you? I-I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes were tearing up, and your breathing was getting ragged as you struggled to find some solution. “Please, Kenny, tell me how to help!”

“Kitten…” His voice was rough as he spoke, his usual tones of confidence and charisma gone. You met his half-closed eyes with your wet ones, begging for him to give you some answer, some, any sort of reassurance that things would be alright.

“Please,” you pleaded. You had never sounded this pitiful in your life, but you didn’t care, and as his shaking hand grabbed your own, a sob wracked your body. “Kenny, please. Please stay.” You couldn’t help, you knew that, but you hoped for once in his life he would listen to you.

His eyes began to shut, and his voice fell to a whisper as he said, “Stay safe, kitten.” With a barely there squeeze of your hand, his body went limp, his hand dropping from your grasp.

You stared in silence, shock overtaking you for a moment. But then, all you felt was anger. “No. No! You promised!” You were yelling at this point, fist reaching out to bang on Kenny’s chest in retaliation. A strong grip on your wrist stopped you, but you weren’t done. As if he could read your mind, Levi wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you back from the now dead man. You were screeching obscenities at both Kenny and Levi as you struggled to break free. Soon, your screams turned into sobs, and as you fell limp into Levi’s arms, you let out one last whimper, a last cry for help. “You promised.”

Later that night, as you pulled a camisole over your head, a knock sounded on your quarters’ door. Truthfully, you had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone. You had had a long day, you had just changed into your pajamas, and you weren’t in the mood to join your fellow soldiers in celebration. Still, you pulled the door open a few inches, hoping it would be someone you could easily send away. To your surprise, Levi stood outside dressed in plain clothes and hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. Even more surprising was the newly formed bruise on his cheekbone. The reddish-purple mark stood out against his normally flawless skin, and you found yourself staring, only Levi’s sharp voice bringing you back to reality.

“You did that, you know,” he commented with a blank face.

“What?” You opened the door a bit more, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His left eyebrow cocked up just barely. “When you went berserk earlier. Before I managed to snag both of your wrists,” he explained. He reached up a hand to brush against his cheek. “Damn, you hit hard.”

You weren’t sure, but the tone in the man’s voice made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to cheer you up. Against your will, the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Did you expect anything less?” You quipped, wondering what his answer might be.

“No.” He shrugged. “Just surprised it took you this long to punch me in the face.”

At that, you let out a laugh. It was true, the man had managed to push every single one of your buttons during his time with the Scouting Regiment. The two of you were in constant conflict, arguments over the smallest things popping up out of nowhere. At some point, Erwin had decided that Mike would be the babysitter of you two, keeping you both in line during training and even more so during squad leader meetings. You started to smile at the memory, but when you remembered that Mike, like so many of the others you loved, was dead, your expression fell.

Moving your eyes to stare down at the uneven floorboards, you spoke quietly, but sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

Levi knew you weren’t just apologizing for hitting him but for everything, and as he studied your face, he made a decision. “Do you want some tea? I keep a special brand in my room.” It was the only thing he had to offer, and both you and him knew it.

You froze as you tried to figure out the best course of action. Follow the Captain to his room or mope around alone until you cry yourself to sleep? In the end, it was an easy choice. Still, your heart stuttered in your chest while you gained your composure. You took a breath before responding, “Um, sure.”

There was a beat of silence, as if the two of you were readying yourself to take on some new, mysterious foe. And in a way, you supposed, you were. About a month after Levi had joined the scouts, there had been an… incident of sorts. It wasn’t disastrous or anything like that, but Erwin had quickly ruled that the two of you weren’t allowed to be in the same room together without someone else present. A wise decision on his part, if you were being completely honest, and something that Levi nor you argued with in the slightest. But now, years later, it seemed both of you were ready to break that rule, Levi making the first move as he turned on his heel and waited to see if you would follow.

Out of all of the scouts, you were known to be the most stealthy. Mike was usually the only one who could sense you were coming, claiming you had a distinctly pleasant smell that his nose had no problem picking up on. One time, he had even claimed that you were the best smelling person in the Survey Corps, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. Hange had whispered to you later that evening that that was his way of flirting, but you never took her seriously. You weren’t interested in dating anyways. No one had ever really caught your eye minus one man, but you always said it was more of a fascination than a crush.

Even your ODM gear seemed to be quieter than the rest, and you once managed to spook even the Commander when you landed on the same tree branch as him without him knowing. You naturally existed silently and sneakily so when Levi picked up on the sound of your sock-clad feet shuffling behind him, the pit of concern in his stomach grew.

Reaching his quarters, he unlocked the door wordlessly, holding it open so that you could enter first. Your eyes widened as you took in the space. First of all, it was much bigger than your room. While you only had a bedroom and bathroom to yourself like the other squad leaders, Levi had a small living area with a couch, small coffee table, and even a desk. There were papers neatly stacked on top of it, and the rest of the area was just as orderly, his tea kettle sitting in the exact center of the coffee table. Only when you sat down on the couch did you see the small fireplace he had. It was just big enough to fit a tea kettle over it, and that’s what Levi proceeded to do.

You let out a low whistle, capturing the man’s attention. “Wow. When did you get so important?” You asked, motioning lazily about the room with your hand.

Levi scoffed and placed a hand casually on his hip. “Erwin gave it to me when he moved into the Commander’s quarters. Reward for the highest kill count or something like that.” His voice was so nonchalant that for a moment, you didn’t realize that he was insulting you. No, you thought, it was more of a tease than an insult.

Now it was your turn to scoff, well aware that your fellow Captain was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Levi watched as you rolled your eyes playfully, firelight glinting off of your irises. Had they always been such a pretty color?

The whistle of the kettle broke him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned back to take it off of the heat. When he brought it back to the table, he was pleasantly surprised that you had already prepared the teacups, him only having to pour the water in and wait for it to steep. Hesitantly, he moved around the table to take a seat next to you, wondering when the two of you were ever this close. The events of the day popped into his head, and he did his best to ignore the fact that the thing he remembered the most about it was you being in his arms. Still, a question had been lingering in his mind, and he figured now was the best time to ask it.

“Y/N,” he started, and you looked over with wide eyes at the use of your first name. You honestly weren’t aware that he even knew you had a first name. “Can I ask you a question?” You knew what was coming, but you forced yourself to nod anyways, giving him silent permission to know your secrets. “How do you know Kenny Ackerman?”

It was a loaded question, and you let out a breath as you tried to figure out the best way to tell the story without getting either you or Kenny into trouble. Even the secrets of a dead man needed to be protected sometimes. Despite it all occurring years ago, the government’s threat towards you regarding the release of information hung heavily in your mind. Both you and Levi would be in danger if you revealed too much. He could swear himself to secrecy, and you would trust him, but the risk would never be worth the reward. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, worrying your lip as you thought of how to start to explain.

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, gathering your nerves before continuing, “About a year and a half before you joined the scouts, I got myself into a bit of trouble.” He raised an eyebrow in surprise as you were widely thought to be the most well behaved and well intentioned scout there was. He thought he was the only person who could get you riled up, your scoldings from the other squad leaders and the Commander always leading back to him. You sent him a small grin. “I wasn’t always the goody two shoes I am now, Levi.”

“Anyways, it became kind of a big deal in the Capital, and a lot of higher-ups were calling for my head.” You let out a light chuckle. “Imagine just turning 19 and having almost every MP looking for you. Scary stuff.”

“Wait.” Levi held up a hand to stop you before you could continue. The story had just started, but he was already having trouble believing that this was the truth. If not for the darkness that rested just behind your eyes, he would’ve called bullshit as soon as you said your first sentence. “What exactly did you do?”

You looked away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment, an internal debate raging on inside your head. With a sigh, you relented. “I… I can’t tell you everything, but let’s just say it had to do with a certain Premier and confidential papers being stolen from his office.” Levi’s eyes grew wide, and you took that as a sign to continue. “No one knows except Commander Erwin, but I spent most of my teenage years in the Underground. I was born within Wall Sina, so I had papers to be up top, but I much preferred being below gro—”

“Why?” Levi was quick to cut you off, his expression hard and tone almost offended.

“My parents owned land in Wall Sina, and when they died, they left none of it to me, so folk got the idea in their head that I was a problem child. I wasn’t wanted there, so I left.” You shrugged, and Levi’s face softened. “I admit, the Underground wasn’t easy, but I was quick on my feet and smart for my age. I survived and I survived by myself. Help wasn’t something I wanted, but when you’re suddenly being chased by the royal government, it becomes something you need. That’s how I found Kenny, and it’s why I owe him my life.”

It had been a week since you had completed your assignment, already turning in the materials to the man who had hired you and returning back to your comfortable life underground. All had seemed to go swimmingly, and your confidence had grown tenfold. The feeling of being unstoppable was addictive, and you craved the sensation of that feeling again. You let your thoughts drift to what you could accomplish next, but sudden screams quickly snapped you out of your daydream. Straightening in your chair, you peeked out of the window of the tavern you currently resided in. Fear grew in your chest at what you saw.

Standing right outside were five MP’s, fully equipped with ODM gear and holding up a wanted poster with a poorly drawn sketch of your face on it. It was clear that they were asking for your whereabouts, and you were thankful to see that every person was shaking their heads to say no, they had no idea. Even with the solidarity of your fellow Underground citizens, you knew you had to get out of there and away from the sharp swords that hung off of the men’s waists. Before you could move, though, two of the men entered the bar, their eyes sweeping over the patrons.

Right before their eyes could meet your frightened ones, your world was encased in darkness, the only light you could see coming from below you. You blinked, trying to understand what exactly just happened, but soon realized that a large hat had been placed over your head. Carefully, you lifted the brim so that you could see, and were met with the piercing silver stare of a man a good amount of years older than you. Apparently your confusion showed on your face because he quickly pushed the hat back down so that it shaded your features.

He spoke in a quiet voice, only letting you be privy to whatever information he was about to share. “I’d keep that on if I were you, kitten. Don’t want the MP’s seeing your face, now do we?” You didn’t dare speak, but quickly shook your head, showing him you were listening and following instructions. “Good,” he dragged out the vowel, and the table shook as he placed his leg onto the table. Were those cowboy boots and spurs? You were pretty sure people only wore those in stories. “Now,” he stated, “We’re just gonna have a nice, pleasant conversation. Lots of giggles, ya hear me?” You nodded, the hat moving up and down your forehead.

As the man started spewing nonsense, you did your best to play along, laughing like he said to and keeping your face covered as best you could. You could hear the MP’s getting closer to your table over the man’s rowdy voice, and the hand gripping your drink began to shake in fear. Smoothly, the man took your hand in his, making some weird comment about how soft it was. You frowned. Your hands weren’t soft at all. What was with this guy?

The realization of what his plan was smacked you in the face, and you let out light giggles in response, putting on your most fake voice as you thanked him for the compliment. The things you were saying to each other became sickly sweet, so much so that you almost laughed at one point. As the soldiers approached your table, the mysterious man leaned in close, his alcoholic breath fanning over your face. Calmly, he swept the hat off of your head and placed it so that it covered both of your faces from the men who were now only a couple of feet away.

A swift kick from under the table spurred you into action, and you let out a girlish moan followed by an exaggerated giggle. He followed suit, making a comment about how nice your lips were. If it were any other situation, you would punch this man in the face, but for right now, you’d listen to every command he gave you. From behind the hat you heard one of the MP’s mumble about ‘couples these days’ with a gagging noise coming from the other. With one last lovesick comment from the man in front of you, the MP’s retreated, leaving the tavern with muttered curses leaving their lips.

Your savior leaned back into his chair, a smirk adoring his features as he placed his hat back on his head. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, you in shock and him in some state of glee. You decided to speak first.

“Who are you?”

“The name’s Kenny.” He kicked his other leg up on the table with a thwack! as the spur hit the cracked wood. The silence grew again, but this time you were at a loss for words. Sure, his name was Kenny, but was that all he was going to say? Apparently not, but when he spoke up again, it was entirely unhelpful. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You frowned, unamused. “Maybe for you. I should punch you for some of the things you said. Strange men shouldn’t talk to unassuming ladies like that.” Your tone was laced with a bit of sarcasm, and he guffawed.

“I don’t think fugitives from the crown can be considered ladies,” he shot back, and you huffed. His face grew serious. “I’ve been watching you for a while, kitten.”

You raised your eyebrows at the nickname. “It’s Y/N, and, uh, what?” Once again, this man completely took you by surprise.

He shrugged. “You may not know it yourself, kitten, but you’re well known down here in the Underground. A mysterious girl who arrives without a sound, stealing from the above-grounders and sharing the wealth with the rest of us? You’re practically a legend; some people don’t even believe you’re real, but those that do would protect you with their life.”

This was all news to you. Yes, those were things that you did, but people recognized you for it? You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked quickly as you tried to puzzle the situation out. “I…” You struggled for words.

Kenny held up a hand. “It’s true whether you believe it or not… But, it seems that you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew this time, my friend. Stealing from the Premier? Tsk, tsk.” His tone was more playful than condescending, and you gave him a weary grin.

You sighed and finally relaxed back into your own chair, studying the man’s face. It showed his experience rather than his age, and you wondered just exactly who he was. Taking a chance, you pried for more information. You hated being in the dark. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

His smile grew at your curiosity, crooked teeth appearing under chapped lips. “Someone who can help you. If you want it, that is. It seems clear you like to work on your own.” There was a challenge laced into his words, and you wondered what the right decision was. On one hand, getting involved with someone else, someone else you knew nothing about at that, was a dangerous game. On the other, you were in trouble and you needed all the help you could get.

Taking a chance, you slowly nodded. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”

He explained his plan. The MP’s didn’t know your name, so it would be easy to get above ground using your old Wall Sina papers. After you expressed your concern and with a chuckle, he dismissed their drawing of you, stating that once you got above ground and cleaned up, you would be unrecognizable from your old self. Then, with his next words, you lost your confidence in his plan.

“You want me… to join the Survey Corps?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Uh, no way. That’s right under the government’s noses!”

He brushed you off. “Eh, not really. The government already dislikes the Corps. They’re not gonna care who’s in it; they figure you’ll all die soon enough.” At that, you gave him a very blank stare, and he just laughed, stealing a swig from your mug. “You’ll be fine. You don’t seem like the dying type.”

It was true, you had escaped the jaws of death on multiple occasions, but you weren’t in the business of actively riding towards your demise. That seemed plain idiotic to you, and you made that known. “This isn’t a joke. It’s my life on the line,” you countered.

With a swift movement, his legs were off of the table and his body was leaning in towards yours, the weight on his elbows making the table creak. His eyes turned dark, levelling your gaze. “It’s your life either way. Would you rather die by the hands of the Military Police after they’ve done God-knows-what to you? Or would you rather die on your own terms, possibly fighting for Humanity’s freedom?”

It was a good question, a fair question, and one you immediately knew the answer to. You sucked in a breath as you resigned yourself to your new fate. “So, how do we do this?”

With another grin, Kenny explained the rest of his plan. It really wasn’t a bad idea, and you were grateful for the help. But still uncertainty settled in your stomach.

The day you were to join the Corps, Kenny had told you he would meet you before you left. You hadn’t seen him in about a week, and in that time, you had completely changed yourself, moving up top, getting a haircut, and finally wearing clean, untorn clothes. It was weird and different, but a part of you enjoyed it. This was a new start, you had chosen to believe.

“Kitten!” You turned towards the easily recognizable voice with a roll of your eyes, but the playful smile that toyed with your lips gave away your true feelings. “Give me a spin!” He requested, and when you did, he let out a loud whistle. “Damn, you really look like you belong up here.”

You raised your eyebrows with a grin. “That’s the point, right?”

“Precisely, my friend, precisely.” Slinging an arm over your shoulders, he began to walk with you towards where the ferry would pick you up. His pace was slow, obviously not in a rush to say goodbye, and you felt the same. Somehow, the two of you had grown close over the past month. Even with all of the secrets you both kept from each other, there was an air of freedom when you were in the other’s presence. No lies, no false personalities, just friendship.

It was refreshing, to say the least.

For once, you both were quiet as you walked. The weight of the future hung over both of you, pressing your mouths shut. He managed to speak first, his voice cracking for the first time since you met him and giving away his true emotions.

“Stay safe, kitten.” The words were serious, and something in him couldn’t stand to let that be the last thing he said. “You’ll kick those Titans’ asses.”

Normally, you’d laugh, or at least smile, at his cheesy jokes. Instead, you stopped walking and turned until you both faced each other, looking up to meet his eyes. With a swallow, you asked something of him that you knew was unfair, was selfish, was wrong. Yet, you still asked, knowing Kenny wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Promise me you won’t die before me.”

His eyes softened in understanding, crinkles forming around their edges as he gave you the most gentle of smiles. He knew what you needed to hear, knew it would be a lie, knew you’d hate him for it. But, he said it anyway.

“I promise.”

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #kenny ackerman #kenny ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #mere writes

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squeeneyart · 3 years

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 24

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Keeping busy makes the day go by.

Martin and Jon discuss household chores.

Martin took great care to not make too much noise as he walked down the stairs. He still avoided the creakiest steps, and down he went as quiet as the house would allow.

He didn’t wonder whether the night before had been a dream. His dreams weren’t like that, so vivid and specific. They weren’t narratives he could make sense of, if he remembered them at all. On waking, he was usually left with the anxious certainty that he had made a horrible mistake or had forgotten to do something important. But that night had been real.

Still, when he made it to the ground floor he peeked in the downstairs toilet to make sure Jon’s clothes were hanging on the shower rod along with the small bag he’d been carrying. Those items were present. What he didn’t find was the seal skin.

Martin continued to the living room door. Curled up into a tight ball, Jon remained buried in the blanket and couch cushions. Martin let loose the breath he’d been holding. He continued on to the kitchen to make his breakfast in silence.

It was nothing to dwell on. Jon must’ve stowed the coat somewhere while Martin was asleep. They hadn’t known each other that long, so it wouldn’t do to keep something so important openly hanging in the shower when Jon had had such a scare with the thing. He’d trusted Martin enough to tell him the truth. It didn’t matter that Jon had squirreled the skin away in the dead of night.

Had Jon believed what he’d said about his mother leaving? Was it suspicious that she was gone?

Toast popped up hot and ready, making him jump. He looked back into the living room, checking if the noise had been enough to wake Jon, but the man was sound asleep in his little cocoon. Perhaps all of the caution wasn’t necessary with someone who was sleeping well for the first time in weeks. Longer, if his habit of calling without any thought to the time was any indication.

He should’ve checked on Jon. Even if he hadn’t had reason to suspect anything it’s what he would’ve appreciated in Jon’s place. Just because he hadn’t felt like making the effort-

Would it have helped, though, if Tim and Sasha were ready to cover things up? What excuse could they have given except that Jon had lost his mobile or switched numbers and hadn’t given out his new one yet? He hadn’t had a real reason to pry into Jon’s business. A barely established friendship didn’t count.

He could have tried anyway. Hopefully letting Jon stay would make up for it, even if there was no bed to offer.

While he wasn’t against letting him use his own bed in theory, Martin knew he was too bloody tall to sleep comfortably on the old couch all night. If things went on long enough it could be discussed, but it was better for both of them to get sleep.

Hers didn’t count.

Thinking that far ahead wouldn’t do any good, so he pushed his mess of thoughts to one side and focused on eating breakfast and scribbling onto a small piece of paper.

‘Jon,

Help yourself to food. Be back in the evening.

-Martin’

Martin considered the note for a moment, then scribbled his number at the bottom.

‘For emergencies.’

What emergencies he could help with he couldn’t say, but he left his number all the same. The chance of Jon having it memorized was slim to none and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep Jon with no contact at all. It was the best excuse Martin could hope for.

He gently laid his plate in the sink in one final attempt to keep the silence, and got ready to leave.

Jon didn’t call him at any point that day. And rightly so, following prior agreements of safety and secrecy. It was fine, no calls meant no emergencies, but as the hours passed it was easy to forget the outside world and its greater goings-on. The window on the front door wasn’t much of a reminder, not with how tiny and far away it was, and not with the crappy weather blocking any light other than what could seep through the endless grey.

The wall clock was placed in an awkward location from where he sat, so timekeeping felt like guesswork. He’d stopped checking the clock often to avoid the disappointment of finding himself only five minutes closer to leaving. It could be any day of the week if he kept his mobile out of sight.

But he could feel lunch time. He could feel when he was to climb the stairs and complete his tasks by muscle memory. And he knew in his bones when he was meant to leave.

In the dark of the evening the timelessness clung to him. It wasn’t until he got to the bottom of the cliffs and saw the windows lit up from the inside of his home that he felt himself settle back into the present. There was a person in his house, and for a while he stood back by the forest path and stared at the little square of light that was his kitchen window.

He felt like an intruder, a spy peering in through his own kitchen window from afar, and it took a particularly large gust of rain-splattering wind in his face to get him moving again.

It was his house. There was just a person in it other than himself.

The smell of cooked food was the first thing he noticed when he walked inside, even before he saw the small and scuffed brown shoes on the rug, or the thin jacket on the end hook he normally used. Something was being cooked, fried, and he spent a minute on the front rug not knowing how to proceed.

From the kitchen, he heard a tentative, “Martin? Is that you?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s me.” Finally placing the damned coat somewhere, he slipped off his shoes and walked toward the kitchen.

Jon peeked his head through the kitchen doorway, wariness falling from his face as he saw Martin for himself. “Barely heard the door open over the wind outside. How were things today?”

“Fine, I guess? What’s-” Martin looked over Jon’s head and saw a pan hissing on the stove, alongside a boiling pot of water. “What’re you making?”

“Something easy and not made of fish,” Jon replied, heading toward the stove top. “Hope you don’t mind, I used some of the chicken in the freezer and box pasta. Should be enough for the both of us.”

Head running on empty, Martin could only nod and take a seat at the kitchen table, threading and unthreading his fingers in front of him. It felt wrong to be sitting there in his own kitchen without a task, but Jon had already put in the time and effort to make dinner. Still, his hands were painfully idle in his lap.

He said quietly, “Smells good.”

From the stove, Jon raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on the pan in front of him. “I’d hope so. Can’t go much more basic than this.” He lifted the pan to show breaded chicken frying away.

“Still, it’s nice of you. Thanks.”

“Mm.” He flipped the stove off and went to strain the noodles. “Anyway, now that I’m awake, thank you for letting me stay the night. Hopefully this helps make up for my sudden appearance.”

“It’s no trouble. Would’ve liked more warning, though.”

Jon frowned. “Well… I would’ve called if I could.”

It didn’t feel like a purposeful accusation, but it stung anyway. “Can’t change things now. Speaking of calling, though… Did you want me to get in touch with Tim or Sasha about this? I know you said you wanted to wait until they were here, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“No, not yet.” Jon placed a strainer full of noodles back over the pot and leaned against the counter. “Call me over-cautious, but I don’t trust anything traceable right now. I’d considered calling Georgie over your phone line to pass on a message, but I don’t think her going in a second time would fly under the radar.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Martin said, “So until they get here…”

“Until then, I’d like to stay here. We can explain things to Tim and Sasha, figure out your situation, and then-” His face fell. “I’m not sure what comes after that.”

In the silence that followed, Jon busied himself with assembling two plates of food, turned in such a way that Martin couldn’t see his expression. It was an uncomfortable quiet that ate away at the composure he’d managed to pull together throughout the work day.

When Jon set the plate down in front of him, he jumped in his seat.

Jon’s brows scrunched together. “Are you all right?”

“Just… tired, is all.”

“Right. So-” Jon set his own plate down and sat on the other side of the table, a perfectly natural choice of seating. “We didn’t talk for long last night. I know part of what you’re going through isn’t- it’s not by business, but if I’m going to help then I need to know if you’ve noticed any changes, with the lighthouse or with- with other things.”

Martin stared down at his dinner. It was plain, breaded chicken with noodles. Smelled a bit of lemon and garlic.

“Everything’s fine. Nothing’s changed besides what you already know.”

It was fine. The taste was about what he would’ve expected from the smell, and it was better than anything he’d been planning to make with his remaining energy. It was a nice thing for Jon to do. He forced each bite down through the sting of his throat.

“It tastes all right?” Jon asked casually.

Martin nodded with a raise of his eyebrows, taking another bite of chicken.

“Good. I’m not out of practice.”

After that, the only sounds remaining were those of clinking silverware and the beating of rain on the kitchen window.

It should’ve been nice, but as Martin ate the pain in his throat only grew, spreading through his head and upper chest. It was nice that Jon had made dinner, and he’d kept it simple enough that even Martin could pay it back in the future. Something as tiny as this shouldn’t have made him feel anything other than full. Instead his head pounded behind his eyes.

“You… You don’t have to eat it,” Jon said. When Martin looked up he was met with an expression of mild exasperation. “It’s fine if you don’t like it. I’m not holding you at gunpoint. Though if I’m going to be living here we should probably settle what we each don’t like.”

“What?” God, that wasn’t a pleasant sound, especially with food still in his mouth. Martin swallowed down hard, realized he had nothing to drink, and stood up. “I need some water. You?”

Thrown off somewhat, Jon sputtered, “N- Well, yes, but-”

“Great.” Martin strode across the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet to fill in the sink. As he held one under the faucet, he noticed there were no dirty dishes underneath.

From behind he could hear Jon shift in his chair. “It’s really not a big deal if you don’t like it.”

With two full glasses he returned to the table, taking a sip of his own and then setting them both down. “What is? No, right, yeah, dinner tastes fine. Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Martin, that’s not very convincing when you were just staring at it like it was a lump of mud.”

“I wasn’t-” He took his seat and reached internally for some excuse with no luck. What kind of faces had he been making? Reaching for his fork, he said, “It’s fine. Good. It’s good.”

“There’s something else, then.”

“I… The food is good. It was very nice of you to make it.” His throat went tight and he said no more.

Frowning at his meal, Jon said defeatedly, “Okay. If you say so.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence. If he made any other sour faces then Jon ignored them, and Martin did his best to be more aware of what his eyes and mouth were doing while eating as quickly as he could manage.

It wasn’t soon enough, but he finally finished and put his plate in the sink. God, he’d barely gotten home and was ready to run upstairs and hide away for the night. Was eating dinner with someone always so exhausting? The answer came easily to mind, but this felt worse than meals spent with stubborn silence or bitter exchanges.

Jon had wanted to be nice, and-

“So, we should discuss… things. Not the food-” Jon said from directly behind him, dirty dishes in hand. He inched around Martin to place them in the sink. “-but we need to talk about how it’s going to work, me being here. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Martin cleared his throat, taking a step to the side to give Jon some room. “You’re not a nuisance. You didn’t have much of a choice in this, if any.”

“And you didn’t ask to have me knocking in your door. Here, let me-” Jon rolled up his sleeves and got to work scrubbing the dishes.

Martin bristled. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m the one who made dinner.”

Martin’s face scrunched. “I don’t think that’s how it works. You made dinner, so I should clean up.” He watched with some irritation as Jon continued his task.

“Next time, then. I already got a head start this morning.”

An even better reason for Martin to be the one to wash up after dinner, but that ship had sailed without him apparently.

“Look, I’m-” He pushed through the tightness in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here, all right? Better than you getting eaten by a shark or something.”

Jon squinted at him. “So… we’re fine?”

“What? Yeah, ‘course we’re fine!” In spite of everything, a laugh crept into Martin’s voice. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

A troubled look crossed Jon’s face. “No, you’re right. The last few weeks got to me I think, not seeing people.”

With some hesitation, Jon continued, “If it makes you feel better, I’m glad to have something to do.” He paused, sudsy glass in his hand. “Sitting around all day doesn’t come naturally to me, and I’ve been all but useless for weeks.”

Ah. Martin felt the indignation seep out of his jaw and shoulders, leaving him rather deflated all of a sudden. All that bristling on his part and Jon had only been bored to the point of doing chores.

“That’s... not your fault,” Martin replied quietly. He leaned back against the counter top and tapped his fingers on the rounded edges. “But okay. Sorry.”

Resuming the job at hand, Jon kept his eyes down and stayed quiet. There wasn’t much to wash off of the plates, but he was diligent in scrubbing down the frying pan until not a speck of grease remained. His fingertips began to prune.

Eventually, he spoke up. “As I was saying before, we should talk about me staying here because of situations like this. If you have… particularities with housekeeping, I should know.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “It’s not a- whatever, do what you like. I suppose it’s better to live with someone who keeps clean.”

“As much as the average person,” Jon said, rinsing off the last bit of soap from a plate. He reached out to grab a hand towel. “Don’t expect me to always be this eager for chores.”

“What, is the excitement wearing off already?” He’d been aiming for a light, teasing tone but ended with dry judgment.

“You know me, always looking for the next thrill,” he deadpanned.

Martin leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Jon, you’re a professional ghost hunter.”

Jon tossed the towel back onto the sink. “I am not. I research the paranormal and complete necessary field work.”

“By looking for static in recordings and breaking into buildings.”

“That’s not- your situation is a special case. I assure you, my regular days are based almost entirely around paperwork and fact-checking.” He walked into the living room and with a scowl plopped onto the couch. After a moment his mouth untwisted into a small frown. “They were, anyway.”

Martin followed behind and looked at him, looked at the lines on his forehead and under his eyes, at his bouncing knee. He looked better than he had the day before, but it would take more than a single good night to make up for weeks of wandering and disconnection. Another apology sat behind his own lips, but he let it die as the useless thing it was.

There was one thing he could help with. Walking over to the ancient desk in the corner, he picked up a bulky old laptop from the drawer and brought it over to the couch with him. “Probably should’ve mentioned it in the note, but I do have wi-fi. Technically.”

The laptop was old. He’d bought it for himself years back but with the weak signal he got it wasn’t easy to deal with, and in his mind the very concept of social media was never going to work for him. So, it was largely a clunky and underused alternative to his phone. It sat heavy on his lap and he remembered why he rarely bothered with it.

Jon’s eyebrows shot up, and he scooted closer on the seat. Voice dripping with relief, he said, “I’m shocked you can get a signal down here.”

The sudden proximity made Martin’s heart skip. He opened the computer on his lap and focused on the screen. “Mind you it’s not good wi-fi, but it should help pass the time. Still has a disc drive as well.”

It took far longer than he would’ve liked for the thing to boot up, but against all odds it reached the desktop with its default background and sparse folders. He really hadn’t done much with the thing, had he? Perhaps when everything was done with he could sell it.

For the time being, though, Jon was clearly itching to get his hands on it, so after a quick check that it still connected to the internet he passed it over.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he immediately hopped onto a site for sifting through journal articles, but Martin stifled a laugh. Whether pushed by professional diligence or personal interest, Jon was too engrossed to notice.

With a small sense of accomplishment, Martin pushed himself onto his feet and moved toward the hall. He made it halfway across the room before he was noticed.

“You’re not going to bed already.”

The tone of the sentence sat between incredulity and a statement of fact, and it gave Martin pause. When he glanced back, Jon was still looking at the laptop screen.

“I mean… no, I was just going to get into pyjamas?”

“Okay. There was a short documentary on architecture I found when I was still doing research at my flat. It might be helpful to our ends.” He typed something and made a face. “It might also be complete bunk, but I should be able to track it down while you’re upstairs.”

It was enough of a dismissal that Martin could only say, “Oh. Um, all right?” Then he left the room in a hurry, as he apparently had things to do that night.

Back upstairs he went with a new if unexpected purpose to change out of his work clothes, still skipping the loudest steps as best he could.

Around the time he’d managed to slip on some flannel pyjama pants and an old t-shirt, tears had leaked from his eyes and then ceased almost immediately. There were no sobs to choke back, just streaks of warmth on his cheeks that dried as quickly as they’d formed.

He rubbed his face with the back of his hand, grateful that his eyes wouldn’t be red and puffy, and then walked back downstairs.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin

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lilchibi-chan · 4 years

Text

Hawks Mafia! AU x Reader

Part 2. Here is part 1 and thanks so much for the support on the first post.

It’s the next morning and you wake up around 10:30. You decided to call your boss and inform her about what happened last night and that you would most likely be taking some time off. She was very understanding and told you to take as much time as you needed. She was still willing to pay you the same amount for the time you would eventually miss. You thank her for her kindness and she informs you that it’s no problem at all and she thinks of you as one of her own.

You had started working at the diner to help pick up what financial aid didn’t pay for and you were set on quitting after you graduated, but you couldn’t find the heart to leave. You grew to love the people that came in and your boss. You’ve even spent holidays with her the times you couldn’t get home. You start thinking about all the memories you have working at the diner and suddenly your phone rings. It’s Hawks.

“Hello,” you say, a small hint of tiredness still in your voice

“Mornin’ baby bird,” he says so happily that you can basically see his smile on your side of the phone

“Morning,” you say, a yawn escaping your mouth

“So what’re you doing right now,” he asks, genuinely curious

“Well I was about to get a cup of coffee and make myself something to eat,”

“Well how about instead of doing that, I kidnap you and take you out to eat,” he says, pleased with himself

You smile and let a small laugh escape your mouth.

“I would love that, but I’m not even close to being dressed.”

You take a look at the clock and its 11:15

You take a moment to think about it and think that this could be a good thing.

“How soon will you be here” you ask

“Look out your window, humming bird”

You go to your window and open the curtain. You see him, standing outside his car, which is below your window.

“How-when-”

“Don’t worry about it, baby bird. Just go get ready and I’ll see you when you get down here”

“How should I dress”

“For brunch”

He hangs up right after and you go through your closet trying to figure out what to wear.

You finally decide on a white mock neck bodysuit, light wash skinny jeans and a pair of nude patent leather pumps.

You quickly shower and get dressed, then put on light makeup. You grab a jacket just in case and your purse and head down to meet Hawks.

He smiles as soon as you walk out and rushes over to help you down the stairs. Once you make it down, he walks with you to the car, still hand in hand and opens the door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you say, somewhat mockingly

“Only when I need to be,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders and a cocky smile, that you can’t help but smile back in response to

“So where are you taking me,” you ask curious

“It’s a surprise” he says with a side smile

“Don’t worry baby bird. You’ll see soon enough”

With that, he drives off. After 15 minutes, he pulls up in front of a hotel. He opens the door for you to exit the car and puts a hand out for you. You take his hand and you enter the gorgeous hotel. He walks straight in past reception and walks to the restaurant that is on the same floor as the lobby.

The host automatically escorts you both to a private room and your mind starts to wander. You figured he was rich and in some type of position of power, but you were still unsure of how much he actually possessed.

After the host leaves you two, Hawks pulls out a chair for you to sit down. You thank him and take a seat. After pushing you in, he takes his and hands you a menu.

As your analyzing the menu, you can’t stop thinking about Hawks and what he does. You wanna know more about him, but you also don’t wanna pry if he’s not open to talking about it.

“What’s going on, baby bird? I see those wheels turning in your head,” he says with a smirk

“Ya know for a guy, you’re quite observant”

“I have to be. Ya never know with people. You always gotta watch your back. Especially in a position of power”

“W-what do you do exactly,” you ask, piggybacking off of what he just said,“I noticed when we walked in that you were treated like literal royalty and when you would come to the diner I noticed your clothes were a lot nicer and clean cut than most of the business men that would come in. I figured you had a lot of money, but judging from the way you were treated,it’s more than I initially thought.”

“Well, I “do” a few things. As a matter of fact, I own this hotel. I also own a couple more around the country, we’re looking to expand to others. I have a few businesses I run. Fashion, modeling, and marketing. You could say I’m a man of many talents,” he says with a cocky smirk

You let out a small laugh and the waiter comes in with champagne and some food. He places a plate in front of you with pancakes, eggs, bacon and some syrup on the side. As well as some apple juice, just in case you didn’t want the champagne.

“I ordered ahead for us. I hope you’re okay with your order,” he says hopefully

“It’s fine,” you say smiling

It was a huge plate of food, but you were starving so you were gonna be able to at least finish half and have some for later at home.

Once you both finished at brunch, Hawks took your hand and you both walked out together to his car. He has a very gentle touch when holding your hand. Almost as if, you’re the most precious,fragile thing he could ever hold. Like one small move and you’ll break instantly.

You didn’t even notice, but you were staring at your hands together.

His touch was warm and his hands were soft, despite their rough and manly looking appearance.

You start to admire the details of his hand and the rings he had on.

He let go of your hand, which snapped you out of your trance.

He opens the door for you, then proceeds to the other side of the car as he usually does.

He’s about to pull off, but receives a phone call.

“Hello,” he says stern

The warmth that once filled his was now gone and there was a cold look in his face. Judiging from that, you were convinced what he was just told wasn’t good in the slightest bit.

“Baby bird, I have to drop you home. Something came up at the office and that I need to take care of like right now. I’m so sorry,”

“I could go with you. It’s not I really had anything planned for today,” you say, trying to brighten his mood

He softly smiles at you

“Today’s not really the best day and I’d much rather show you around when I’m in a better mood. How about...I bring you some dinner tonight? Let’s say 8?,” he asks hopefully

“That’s fine,” you say smiling

He kisses your hand

“Thanks, hummingbird. I won’t be late. I promise,” he says, gripping your hand a bit tighter

He drives off and takes you home. He watches as you enter your building, just as he did last night.

He pulls off and makes his way to his office....

Or so you thought

Meanwhile with Hawks

He makes it to a warehouse that’s an hour outside of the city. He made sure to turn his phone off, so that he wouldn’t be found by anyone.

He enters

“Where’s the fucker at,” he asks fuming

“Right inside,sir” Tokoyami says, following Hawks as he makes his way further inside the warehouse

Hawks walks further in and there he is, hand cuffed to a chair.

“Nice to see you, Twice”

He says nothing

“Aww, cat gotcha tongue...don’t worry, we’ll change that,” Hawks says with a menacing smile

He takes off his rings and puts them onto a silver platter that Tokoyami held out for him.

He picks up a steel rod and starts swinging it around,feeling its weight in his hand.

“So Twice, I heard from a little bird, that you’ve been trying to steal my inventory and trying to embezzle money from my company. The funniest part about this is you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

“Ya know if I wasn’t hand cuffed to this fucking chair right now, I could kick your ass,” he says with a smile

Hawks laughs

“Ya know Twice, you would be a better boss if you weren’t so FUCKING sloppy. I mean c’mon. You’ve been in the game longer than I have and you pull something as stupid as trying to steal from me. It’s honestly embarrassing”

He runs a hand through his hair.

“Twice, I’m a nice guy. I really am, so here’s what I’ll do. I’m gonna let you off with a warning.”

He lifts up the steel rod and cracks Twice in the knee.

“Try that shit again and I will break both of your legs or kill you, depends on how generous I’m feeling...Shadow, get him out of here”

Tokoyami does what he’s told and uncuffs Twice’s hands and feet from the chair. He drags him to the back door of the warehouse and throws him out.

“So what now sir,” Tokoyami asks curious

“Now, we prepare for war. Twice isn’t gonna back down that easy just because I threatened him. He’s gonna use whatever he can to get me and what I’ve built. He wants to be number one and he’ll stop at nothing. Little does he know, I’m one tough bastard and I’m gonna fight for what’s mine. Call everyone and have them meet at the house in an hour.”

“But sir, it takes an hour to get back in the city and it’s rush hour by now so-“

“So it should be no problem for everyone to get there on time. Now go call them”

“Yes sir”

With that, Tokoyami exits the warehouse to call the rest of the members.

Hawks makes his way to his car and drives back to the city to make it to his penthouse.

He ends up beating everyone there, but he did drive a little above the speed limit and took some shortcuts he knew, that way he wouldn’t be stopped by police on his way there.

He takes the elevator that only he has access to and goes straight to his penthouse.

He pours himself some scotch as soon as he gets in. He doesn’t usually drink much, but today warranted one. A stiff drink at that.

Soon there were knocks at his door.

“C’mon in boys,” he says, drink in hand

“I’m sure Shadow already briefed on the situation at hand. We’ve dealt with some pretty rough bastards before, but none of them compare to Twice. As I said to Shadow, he’ll use whatever he can to get to me, my business and people I care about. Make sure to never have your guard down and protect yourselves. Brief everyone on your location before and after you leave. I may be hard on you guys, but I’m not gonna lose any of you to him just cause we were ill prepared.”

“You got it boss. Ain’t nothin gonna get past the great King,” Bakugou says

“Yeah boss, we’re the manliest that you’ve got,” Kirishima says

“I knew I could count on you, King and Red”

“M-me too boss. I know I look weak, but I won’t let anyone or anything get to you, us or the people you care about,” Deku says

“Thanks, Deku. I never thought of you as weak by the way. I don’t judge a book because anyone is capable of anything.”

“R-right,” Deku says

Everyone else agrees to follow Hawks’ orders and to be extra vigilant in the coming days. They couldn’t make stupid mistakes. Although Twice is injured, he still has skilled assassins under his thumb and one slip up could cause anyone’s demise.

After everyone leaves, he decides to shower and wash the day off of him. He lets the hot water flow down his body, almost as if it was melting ice off of him. His mind drifted to you and he smiled, but that smile quickly faded when he realized the life he was bring you into and what would happen if Twice ever found out about you and where you live.

He couldn’t tell you about this side of him. He knew you would view him as a monster. This lifestyle was basically an unforgivable one that ended a lot of his relationships in the past. He knew there would come a day when he would have to fess up eventually, but that day wasn’t going to be today. He wants to be able to live in the happy moments he has with you and make them last as long as he can.

Picture 1: Human Tokoyami by ChigoPlush on DeviantArt

Picture 2 by Kiro_Tktr

Hope y’all enjoyed!! I know it’s super long, but I figured I owe you guys that, being that it took so long to come out. Thank y’all for the support on this new fanfic and I’m also wondering if we should give it an actual name. Leave me a comment or reblog with what you think the name should be, if there should be a name.

Tag list: @rozebudx @cpaperheart

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆.

I chose this prompt from the @hunflowers challenge, a halloween blurb full of scary fluff with pairing of Harry x fem!reader. Tried my best hope ya'll like it!!

An insufferable bone chilling yowl of wind continuously knocked at the tightly bolted window of the forsaken apartment a deep sigh of emptiness anguished from a pair of lungs equally demonizing the aura of winter as y/n hissed at the pricking of bloody iceness of water that once was bubbly warm. The cosiness swallowing her body whole like a white whale into depths of oceans; screeched a scream the kettle she has put a on the stove a while ago. One after another she placed dripping cutlery utensils into basket beside the sink when she was satisfied the greasy stains were gone for real. She hurled a glance to the vacant sitting room of the apartment out of instinct, her guts startling for a moment as the coloured screen of telly roared into disturbance of grey un-uniform pixels.

Wiping the soapy palms with a rag she turns causing the humidity to woosh by her sides and the pair of eyes to hide behind the brick wall. An afflicted gasp leaves her lips and she brings her pointy finger to stick it into her mouth to slash the burn she just got on her tips due to her clumsiness and closeness to kettle. The Telly's back to broadcasting Hocus Pocus, pouring a cuppa she sweeps herself to Aegon velvet couch her back towards the window that displays nothing but a boring sight of another building and the outdoor stair spiral. Something clanged. As If there's a pile of weight hitting and ringing between the gaps of steel rods of stairs. The suspicious noise flew above her head due to the buzzing of famous Hallowen movie.

Eyelids fluttering from the taste of tea then they snap wide to her barren surroundings when a "THUD!" echoes in her living space turning her into a porcelain statue that could be shattered with a single blow. She gulps squeezing her eyes and when she slowly blinks back white spots from the fairy lights hanging at the borderline of walls lingered her vision. Another ruttling sound of window's hooks being forcefully unlocked and she quickly looks back in fear; "it's just in ye'r head." She coaxes herself as she could see no-one to illicit these noises.

But, Oh! She's so wrong.

She drags her feet from where she came from minutes ago, squinting her eyes in dull kitchen and a penumbra of tall darkness peaks from the front window over the sink. It caused her to crimson crescents into her clammy palms as the full moon creeped it's mock to her.

"AAA!" Her shrieks strangling into her throat from the utter fright and drain of senses as the unhinged window to the left of kitchen and behind her where she couldn't see slided with a cracking hum. Cold sweat breaking at her spine, knuckles catching the edges of marble and her tongue rested limb in her mouth.

The speckles of her irises reflected rims of moon when a bloody brumal hand creeped atop her mouth clamping it shut. Her heart dooming into the grave of her stomach as she felt spikey thing prodding the dimple of her back. Waterworks preparing at the bayline of her eyes and she ran her mind million miles to think of an escape only to end in the same trap.

"Gimme a kiss baby else you'll have to bear the consequences." The scratch of hoarseness halting to mellowness that calmed her down a little but a lava of annoyance boiled in her veins making her spin in the grasp, "Harry!" She whacks his chest glaring him with tensed knit brows and parted mouth.

He seems unfazed his homely dimples coveting into his milky cheeks adorably as he leaned to look in her beautiful glistening eyes properly stealing a sloppy kiss.

"Puppy." He whines tumbling onto his feet when she bit his bottom lip agonisingly in between the kiss. Deserves right.

"You scared me!" She shows him by placing his hand atop her heart which's running wild at Harry's antics and he pouts innocently but spat misheviously, "those 'ere me' intentions." He balances the pumpkin in his forearm gesturing her to come close to him as she stands with folded arms and pouty face.

"Could 'ave used the door." She murmurs timidly padding towards him.

"Would've missed the fun, sweet cherry." He chuckles resting his chin atop her head running circles at her shoulders and when she gasps a "meanie!" He gives her the same doe pupils and wide parted lips mimicking her, "sometimes gotta be babe."

"You should be glad, I love you jerkface." At this he tugs her close smauching a loud wet kiss to her balmed lips, he gives her a soft smile "let's carve some eh?" He shows her the pumpkin and she nods beamingly.

She let the stove on after handing a cuppa to harry (along a kiss on forehead) so that their would be some warmth while they sit on the kitchen tiles figuring out how to carve the pumpkin.

His daddy long legs sprawled relaxingly infront of him, his tongue poking out from the concentration and she giggles when a hickory curl of his's kept on falling at the arc of his brow disturbing him.

"Glaring him wouldn't help baby." She quips brushing the curl back tucking it into his bun and he grins puckering his lips for her sweetness he always craves. Shaking her head at his love-sickness she cups his jaw giving him an eskimo kiss accompanied by a hot, stroking passionate kiss on mouth.

She cringes squeaking in his mouth when he leaves a long stripe of gooe over her cheek and when she retorts away he catches her wrist with his sticky hands deepening the kiss making her moan into his sacchariness.

"You're a one cheeky mother-fudger." She nibbles on the soft flesh of his earlobe knees nudging his's and she feels fuzzy trying to get more closer to him. "Enough of ye'r horniness can't ye' see 'm tryin' to work?" She groans and harry finds it so endearing. A disgusting squirting noise billows when she shoves her hand into open head pumpkin taking full of gooey stickness and throwing it at Harry.

He looks down to his chest with comic stern eyes pointing at it and she just shrugged giving him challenging expression. This's how they ends up having a pumpkin seed fight, it sticked to their hair, clothes and skin.

She squeals in her laughter scooching back on her ass when he crawls on his fours towards her, "don't you dare come near me!!" She says in between her breaths but her threat in vain as she toppled onto floor with Harry on her top.

"Wha' ye'r gonna do bout it, huh?" He slams both his palms at the either side of her temple and she squints open her one eye, "no. no. no." she mutters only grunting in defeat at the end when Harry nuzzles his cheeks to her's, practically rubbing all of himself against her.

"Yuck. You gutter monster!" Her voice muffled into the crook of his neck when he showered her in disgustingly cute little kisses, starting from the apples of her cheeks, her chin multiple times and her eyelids leaving no spot un-moisturised. He cackles loudly instead tilting her jaw to meet his lips with the help of his both thumbs.

She moans in the kiss when he grinds his hips against her pelvis and when she bucks herself for more friction he moves away taking the previous knife into his hands, leaning against the cabinet and taking the pumpkin back in his lap.

"Not fair." She grumps sitting crossed legs infront of him. A fluttering grin breaking through her act when he carved a little smile and two little stitch button eyes of the pumpkin.

"Wha' d'ya say looks scary?" He asks with a grin and a thumbs up knowing too well about his own cheeky antics, "looks like his mummy's bout to tuck him to sleep in a baby blanket."

"Well, good for him." She rolls her eyes standing up as he helps her so leading both of them to sitting room, "can't believe 'm dating a five years old." At that moment Winifred Sanderson spoke from the telly.

"I put a spell on you and now you're mine." Harry snaps his fingers pointing at the telly lifting his puppy up into a squishing hug ready to have hot bath after.

"Wini's absolutely right, puppy. I put a spell on you and now you're all mine...." A long pause and he smirks down at her, "...to eat."

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harryween #cute harry #hsh #harry #halloween #harry x y/n #fluff #harry styles blurb #harry x reader #harry fanfic #solo harry #long hair harry #halloween challenge #suspense #harry styles fanfiction #prince harry

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years

Text

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Popcorn and Chamomile Tea (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers @i-wont-be-caged

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence. 18+ ONLY

Another woefully underrated band: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGkF5OYGynE

Their album “Fruit of Life” is sooo killer

Steven had been distraught over Absinthe’s departure, a beaten sadness replacing his normal sunny radiance, and although Karen had reassured him her friend was never far from the nest, he’d latched onto Izzy, sleeping in the seat next to him and seldom leaving his side during the never-ending bus ride towards Calgary.

Steven pounded a tattoo on the seat in front of him with his hands. “You remember that girl that blew us outside of Gardner studio, Izz?”

“Yeah.”

“I came all over her face.”

Izzy chuckled. “Yeah, you did.”

“She knew her way around a cock. Or two.” He laughed, then said, “I miss you, dude.”

“Stevie, I’m right here.”

“I know. But I miss partying with you.”

“You know I can’t party anymore.”

“Yeah. But you’re like a ghost now. You’re just, like, always moving away. You can still have fun, can’t you? That’s not illegal?”

“Well, no.”

“I mean,” Steven whispered, “you’re not married to that Donna chick, right? I saw you leave with her last night.”

“Karen. And no, I’m not.”

“See, there you go. We’ll get a chick and hang out with her and it’ll be just like old times.”

Izzy smiled, leaning over and ruffling Steven’s blonde hair. “Sure, Popcorn, that’ll be fun.”

Izzy knew Steven hadn’t imbibed any coke on the bus trip, he’d never left his sight, but he was still bouncing off the walls of the hotel even before Izzy had unlocked their room.

“This is so cool, Izz, us hanging out. I think Slash and Duff are mad at me anyway. Axl always is.”

“Why are Slash and Duff mad at you?”

Steven giggled. “My chick was really loud. Total screamer. She’d go all night too, she was like a fucking beast. Do you know why she left? Did that Donna girl tell you?”

Izzy sighed, not wanting to tell Steven Absinthe chased greener pastures, where the hotels always had hot water and nobody ate off a cold cut platter backstage. “Uh, she said Absinthe knew one of the girls traveling with The Cult and she wanted to hang out with her. She’ll come back.”

“I hope so, she was fucking amazing. Hey, Izz, you think there’s hookers in the phone book?”

“I don’t know, buddy. I’m going to take a shower. I realized today how fucking rank Duff smells and thought it was me at first.”

“Yeah, he promised Mandy he wouldn’t change his leather pants the entire tour. And it smells like he’s keeping his word.”

In the bathroom, Izzy stripped his own black leather pants off and pulled the lining out, then filled the sink up with water and a little soap. Duff had taken his breath when he sat across from him at breakfast, and Izzy’d tucked his McMuffin in his coat to eat on the bus, away from the stench. He shook the excess water out of the fabric, then laid his pants on the toilet and stepped into the shower.

The water pressure was laughable at best, but he even scrubbed and rinsed his hair. Living in the Gardner place without running water had gotten him used to going without bathing for a week or more, but since he’d gotten sober, normal things like showering were becoming more of a priority, and Fran had announced at their first meeting that she considered cleanliness above godliness.

“Not bathing is a sign of depression, Izzy, and if you’re depressed I’ll have the court psychiatrist assigned to you. But your funky ass is not going to stink up my office, now or ever.”

He’d found a doctor’s office near the hotel, and he planned on visiting it first thing in the morning to get his first international piss test out of the way. Dammit, he realized, he really did want to make Fran proud. And he’d been able to turn down drugs, even after he’d had his dick sucked by a groupie. This tour was going to be a piece of cake.

Izzy toweled off the mirror and shaved, then dug through his bag and found some clean clothes. He hung his wet pants over the shower rod, then zipped his boots back on. He could hear noise coming from the room and figured Steven had switched on the television, then he turned the door handle to find Steven naked and plowing into a dark-headed chick from behind on his bed, her huge tits bouncing as she moaned and cried, and a shapely blonde wearing a spandex minidress sitting on Izzy's bed. She crooked a finger at him, and he huffed a quiet laugh as he sat down in front of her.

Steven crowed, “They were in the phone book! I got one for each of us, dude!”

“Thanks, man,” Izzy muttered, watching as the blonde peeled down the top of her dress, setting two very perky and unnaturally round tits free.

“Like what you see, honey?” she purred.

Izzy nodded, fleetingly wondering how they were going to pay for all this, then lost his train of thought as she pulled her dress over her head and reached for him.

He leaned forward and kissed one breast, then she pushed him back and reached for her bag on the nightstand. “I’m going to blow your mind,” she cooed, and he closed his eyes and gasped as she worked his crotch with one hand, then she used the other to open a vial of cocaine and smear it on her other breast. She grabbed the back of Izzy’s head, slamming his face in the coke and rubbing his nose in it. With everything he had, he jerked out of her grasp with a bellow and leapt to the bathroom, holding his breath and frantically washing off every trace of powder he could see, scrubbing frantically until his face was red and his nostrils felt raw.

He grabbed his bag and flew down the hall, racing down the stairs, and when he reached room 317, he pounded on the door.

“Karen, open up,” he demanded.

He heard the lock turn, then she opened the door. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

He pushed past her and shot into the bathroom, peering at himself in the mirror, then blowing his nose on a handful of toilet paper.

She stood in the doorway, her hair wet, clad in an oversized jersey and short shorts with her hands on her hips and asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“A hooker shoved my face in some blow. And I have to take a piss test tomorrow.”

“Oh, Izzy,” she said quietly. “Here, here, sit,” putting down the lid on the toilet.

He sat down and she took his face in her hands, tilting it this way toward the overhead light, then that. “I think you got it all.”

“Could you-maybe?” he blurted, and she nodded, running a washcloth under the faucet and gently wiping his nose, then his chin, and cheeks. She stroked his forehead and eyebrows with it, and when she wiped under his chin and onto his neck, he began to relax.

“Do you want to take a shower?” she asked gently, and he shook his head. The skittery, jumping feeling he had inside was still there, but now he felt too exhausted to stand, and he was suddenly overcome by a desire to lay his head against her breasts and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Did you get your hands too?” she asked, then pulled them up in hers and rubbed the washrag against them. Izzy watched her as she worked, carefully going over his fingertips, and her eyes met his and held them, her chest rising and falling.

She was so close to him he could feel her body heat rising from her, and he smelled her comforting scent on his hands and in the still-humid bathroom. He began to feel lightheaded and heavy at the same time, his wide eyes never leaving hers, his breathing becoming shallower as his neck grew hot, then she stepped back and softly said, “I-I think you’re good.”

She came back and ran water into a small pot, then went back into the other room. “Um, I’m going to make you some tea,” she called, and he came out, smiling as he watched her fiddle with a mini Mr. Coffee machine. “It’ll-it’ll calm your nerves.”

He sat down in a chair and smiled up at her. “You travel with that?”

“Of course. I can’t live without tea.”

“What kind settles my nerves?”

“Chamomile. It probably wouldn’t hurt to pound liquids tonight, so you flush out your system. I’m even not going to ask how this happened.”

“Steven’s been lonely since Absinthe left him, and he let his fingers do the walking.”

“Yeah, I heard him say he missed you.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Was not. That bus is only so big. Speaking of which, who’s going to tell Duff he smells like the ass end of a dead yak?”

“Not me. This is some kind of engagement promise he made to not change his pants.”

“Hoss, y’all don’t want me to intervene. I’ll strip him when he’s passed out drunk and he’ll be naked all the way to Saskatoon.” She poured him a mug. “Take sugar?”

“No. You make it sweet with your love.”

“Oh, shit. You can shove that right up your ass.”

He took a sip, then asked, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Stevie Nicks can’t put coke up her nose, so she puts it in her ass.”

Her face turned white, then she grabbed the mug out of his hands. “Get out,” she gritted.

“What-?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” she shouted.

“The fuck did I do?”

Karen was near tears. “Izzy, GET OUT!”

“I don’t have anywhere to fucking go!” he yelled.

She grabbed her giant bag, throwing it over her shoulder, screaming, “Fine! If you won’t leave, I will!” and slammed the door.

#izzy stradlin x ofc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x ofc #guns n roses fanfic

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snusbandxknifewife · 4 years

Text

Sticky ficky 9

~~~~

That’s right hoes, I’m back and bringing you more sticky ficky content. I really set this chapter up expecting to introduce work on a string but it didn’t happen I PROMISE I SET IT UP FOR NEXT CHAPTER THO

~~~~~~

Silence greeted Jude as she stepped, shaking and weak, out of the shower. She could still see bits and pieces of her dream in her mind’s eye, could still feel the sharpness of Cardan’s nails digging into her neck and smell Balekin’s rotting flesh.

She tried to take deep breaths, to swallow around the painful lump in her throat, but she couldn’t find the strength to.

Just as she was about to start hyperventilating again, she heard a knock at the door. It started soft, just three delicate raps. But when nobody answered, the knocking became louder.

Funny, Vivienne and Oak should still be home. Why weren’t they opening the door?

Jude kept her plush blue towel wrapped tightly around her and walked through the apartment, her wet feet threatening to slip on the linoleum floors.

“Fucking calm down, I’m here,” she griped as the person on the other side continued to beat at the door. Still, nothing couldn’t prepared her for what she saw on the other side.

There, out in the hallway, was Heather.

She opened the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “Vivienne isn’t here.”

Heather brightened upon seeing her, only dulling slightly at the mention of her ex before smiling once more and pushing into the apartment.

“I’m not here for Vivi,” she stated. “I’m here for you.”

Jude, who couldn’t stop the puzzlement from showing on her face, merely watched as Heather continued through the apartment she’d once shared. She was carrying a long sleeve of fabric, longer even than her leg, tucked up under her arm.

Heather stopped in front of Jude’s door and motioned for her to enter. Jude raised a brow in response.

“Get dressed,” she ordered. “We’re going out.”

She said it with enough confidence that Jude didn’t even question it. She moved robotically, going to her room and dressing in comfortable leggings and an old concert hoodie. As she laced up her boots, she studied her sister’s ex lover.

“Why are you here?” Jude finally asked.

“I told you, I’m here for you,” she answered, then her face faltered a bit. “I need someone to talk to about,” she sighed, “everything. It’s messing with my head and I can’t figure it all out”

Reasonable enough, Faerie can unhinge even the most sane of people.

Jude, dressed and ready, nodded for Heather to lead the way. It didn’t even occur to her as she walked out the door that it was the first time in weeks she’d left her self-determined prison. After the dream, she was tired, too bone tired to think about her own sorrow.

She was tired enough to try something new.

Neither woman spoke as they hopped on the bus. Being late morning, most people in the city were already at work. It was just them and the bus driver, sitting in a comfortable silence that was broken only by the humming of passing cars.

As they got off the bus and the smell of salt hit Jude, she finally asked what they were doing.

“I always used to go kite flying when I needed to think,” Heather explained. “ I’d go with my dad when I was younger and Vivi when we were together. It helped me talk things out.”

Jude blinked against the sunlight, her body still used to the Faerie timeline.

“I can’t exactly talk this out with dear old dad,” she reasoned. Jude snorted.

It was the first sound that resembled a laugh she’d made in weeks.

When she was a little girl and her parents still lived, they always used to go to the beach during the summer. She can remember days spent building castles out of sand and doing cartwheels down the coastline, searching the water with her twin for any sign of mermaids.

The mermaids she’d imagined were far sweeter than the ones who really lived.

“C’mon, kick your shoes off!”

So Jude did. She tucked her socks into her boots and tied the laces so she could hang them round her shoulders while they walked. Together, Jude and Heather stepped off the boardwalk and into the sand, the warmth of the sun-baked earth seeping into the bottoms of their feet.

They walked in silence and Jude thanked whatever gods existed for the fact that the surf was calm that day. They could barely hear the ocean and hardly anyone was in the water.

“Here looks like a good spot,” Heather decided aloud, dropping her shoes and the sleeve she carried.

“What’s that?”

“My dual-line,” she answered, pulling fabric and strings and handles and sticks out of the sleeve. “I figured I’d bring the easy one, in case you wanted to try.”

“I’ve never seen a kite that looked like that,” Jude observed the mess of black and purple and green nylon as Heather began to unravel the strings from around the handle.

Heather grinned at her, laying out some forty feet of line. “It was handmade by a guy down in Georgia. My dad bought it from the artist. It was my first stunt kite, I never liked mono-lines.”

Jude watched quietly as the other girl set up the vaguely triangular kite, testing the tension on the carbon fiber rods that held the fabric open before using a lark’s head knot to tie either of the handle’s strings to separate sides of the kite.

“Watch this,” Heather grinned, setting the kite down so it was being pushed back by the wind.

So Jude crosses her arms and watched Heather walk her way back to the handles, keeping the kite’s lines taught so it didn’t go over into the sand. Then, when she’d gotten the handles firmly grasped, she took a step back.

And the kite launched into the sky.

For all the beauty Jude had witnessed in Faerie, nothing was quite like this. It flew, nothing like a bird and everything like a leaf gliding through the wind. Though the colors were glaringly unnatural, it still gave off a calming sense of beauty.

Jude had become so used to the terrifying version of pretty that she’d forgotten what mundane beauty could look like. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved it.

Heather whooped as she caught the wind, pulling the line in her right hand towards her so the kite did a spin in the air and laughing at how it oversteered. They squinted together, watching the kite fall and then rise as it lost and caught gusts of air.

Jude smiled. It was small, and it was gone quickly, but she’d smiled all the same.

“Would you like to try?” Heather asked and she nodded, letting her friend hand her the handles and then stand behind her to help her get the hang of things.

“If you want it to turn left, pull the left handle towards you. For right, pull the right. Don’t move the handles side to side. Lift them up for the kite to go higher and pull them down for it to go lower,” she explained, laughing loudly as Jude promptly did exactly the wrong thing and sent the kite smashing into the ground.

“Oh shit—“

“Don’t worry!” Heather exclaimed, running over to the downed kite. “They’re tough!”

She picked up the kite and set the tip back towards the sky, holding it aloft and telling Jude to step back. When she did, Heather launched the kite once more.

What must’ve been an hour passed as she taught Jude the ins and outs of stunt flying. She got talking about her foils and her quad-lines and how her mother knew how to spin a mono-line and keep it in the air. She told Jude stories of competitions she’d watched and festivals she’d been to. She even mentioned how she’d started a kite flying club in her highschool.

“It’s just something about the way the wind whispers through the trees on a good day,” she grinned. “Sets my soul at ease. Nothing quite clears the mind like a kite in the sky.”

“We don’t have kites in Faerie,” Jude whispered, almost reverent in her tone. “I suppose it loses its appeal when so many people can fly themselves.”

She passed the handles back to Heather, who began doing tricks like a seasoned professional.

“Faerie loses its appeal when the people have no appreciation for simple things,” Heather whispered back, sounding perturbed. “Like trust, for that matter.”

Jude snorted as Heather made the kite fly in a square. “Trust? In Faerieland? Vivi didn’t prepare you at all.”

Heather shot her a look and the two stared at each other for a long time until the kite crashed down again.

She walked to grab the kite and launch it for Heather.

“How’d you survive? Back when you were a child, I mean.”

Jude crosses her arms, moving back to her previous spot, keeping her eyes on the kite the whole time.

“Madoc viewed us as his responsibility after he killed Mom and Dad,” she shrugged. “And we were children. The fae are usually very careful with children, even human ones. Babies are so unbelievably rare that to harm a child would be unthinkable for most.”

She allowed herself to look back over and catch Heather watching her.

“I suppose we just got lucky that we had enough time to learn the ways of Elfhame.”

Heather turned back to the kite.

“And we used a lot of Rowan berries and salt.”

The other girl pursed her lips and sent the kite careening towards the sand, saving it at the last possible moment. “I just don’t understand how an entire people can be so unbearably cruel. So evil and manipulative, especially when they can’t lie.”

“They’re self-satisfying,” she offered like it wasn’t a bad thing. “A way of life that you either get used to or get crushed by.”

“Don’t they ever get tired of being selfish?”

“Why would they?” Jude half laughed. “It gets them what they want.”

She let the kite fall and neither woman went to retrieve it.

“Do you ever get tired of playing their game?” Heather asked.

Jude blinked, her fingers tapping a soundless rhythm on the elbow of her crossed arm as she stared out into the calm, glassy sea.

“I get tired of losing it,” she finally answered. “And I tire of the fact that I only lose when my selfishness isn’t driven by destruction.”

Together they sat down and Heather, sensing Jude wasn’t done, waited for the younger woman to continue.

“I’ve killed more people than I care to count, bathed in blood and dug secret graves in the dead of night. I’ve engineered the fall of the eldest Greenbriar child and, unknowingly, helped set the stage for the fall of the others.”

“I’ve dominated meetings and outsmarted countless people I shouldn’t have been able to outsmart.” She finally turned to look at Heather. “I’ve done all this and more. So why is it that it only works when I’m hurting someone? Why is it that, on the briefest occasion I do something out of love—be it crowning Cardan to protect my brother or taking a lover for myself for once or giving myself to a man in marriage because I genuinely thought he cared—why is it that love breeds failure for me?”

Heather blinked calmly, weighing the question in her mind, rolling her thoughts around on her tongue and playing with the handles of her kite as it fluttered oh-so-slightly on the sand.

“I don’t think love breeds failure for you,” she finally started, “merely success that you aren’t comfortable with.”

Jude raised a brow at her before leaning back in the sand, throwing her arms across her face to block her eyes from the sun.

“Jude, I’m serious!” Heather insisted. “I get that ruling through Cardan didn’t go as smoothly as you liked, but Oak got to be safe here. He gets to be a normal kid for awhile, learn some basic kindness.”

She went to respond, but Heather cut her off.

“And yeah that Locke guy was a complete and total tool, but plenty of men are. It wasn’t your insistence on loving him that made him a two-timing whore and your sister a back-stabbing bitch.”

Jude couldn’t help but smirk at that.

“And, while I’ll admit I don’t really know what’s going on with you and Cardan right now, the fact remains that you’re still married. He could’ve tried to divorce you instead of sending you away. That has to count for something, right?”

“He banished me for murdering his brother,” she felt her face sour at the very idea of Balekin. “Never mind that he challenged me to a duel and, per the rules of courtesy and the fae’s slavish insistence on obeying it, I couldn’t turn him down.”

Heather opened her mouth.

“And never mind that he forced me to kiss him in the Undersea—“

“WOAH!” Heather exclaimed and Jude went quiet. “He did what?”

She uncovered her face and opened an eye, squinting up at her friend and raising her brows at the shocked expression that she wore.

“When I was trapped in the Undersea he made me come to him,” she explained, covering her face once more. “I guess he had an idea that I might feel something for his brother so he forced me to kiss him the same way I’d kiss Cardan. He thought me glamoured, I had no choice.”

“Jude that’s assault.”

“Add it to the thousand other things that’ve been done to me. You get used to it after awhile.”

She felt Heather’s hand on her shoulder and started, uncovering her face in shock and finding the older girl staring at her in horror.

“Jude that’s not right. Just because it happens a lot doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

She chewed the inside of her lip as Heather’s face scrunched up in determination. “You should use some of your murdery badassery next time someone tries that shit on you. I’ll help, I’ve got a taser that looks like lipstick.”

Jude wanted to laugh, but the completely serious look that Heather wore stopped her.

How long it had been since someone was willing to go to war for her and her alone. Well, if you ignore what Cardan did to get her freed from the Undersea. But was that really the same? He’d not lifted a finger, and he’d had the power of half an army and magic that could boil the sea.

Heather has nothing, likely not even basic fight training, and she was still ready to back Jude up.

“How are you handling things since,” Jude changed the subject, “y’know, with Vivi?”

Heather’s face soured and she huffed, staring out at the sea.

“I’m so angry,” she admitted. “I could get over her not preparing me, I could get over the whole cat thing. But taking my memories? Deciding that I’m not adult enough or strong enough to remember what’s been done to me? I don’t know if that’s forgivable.”

The way her voice broke at the end told Jude everything she needed to know and she wrapped her arm around Heather.

“But you want to forgive her.”

“You know I do,” she sounded so forlorn. “I love her so much Jude, but I don’t know how we cone back from something this devastating.”

“If you figure it out, I wanna be the first to know,” Jude snorted and Heather cracked a smile once again. “What a pair we make.”

“I’ve never been friends with a murderer before. Or a queen, for that matter,” Heather observed. “Do you get used to it?”

“The murder part? Absolutely.”

Heather shot her a rueful grin. “I have much less of a problem with you getting used to that then the assault thing.”

“What a coincidence,” Jude laughed. “Me too.”

~~~~

The Jude and Heather friendship I always needed in my life. Next chapter will be Jude and Heather go to/have gone to a kite shop and seen the worms on a string. Some WILL be purchased I promise.

I know it’s no Cardan and no sticky hands but I needed some Jude healing. I think we can all agree she needed to talk through her feelings with someone who was close enough to care but far enough away to point out when she wasn’t being treated right.

~~~

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231

#sticky ficky #tfota #jude duarte #jurdan #cardan greenbriar #the great sticky hand war #heather #jude HEALS #Next chapter:#rise of fweej

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crybabytoy59 · 4 years

Text

The Meeting (reworking)

The Meeting, pt.2

After I swallowed down his “Gift” they put Mistress mummy's wet pissy pants back in my mouth putting the ball gag face harness over that, Mistress Mummy patted my head “Let’s Get her cleaned up Master Daddy” I was then moved? as the box lifted slightly I found it had wheels. Master Daddy pulled the face mask over as again I breathed in my mess from the box !

As I was wheeled along a corridor I watched Mistress Mummy in front of me I could make out her figure past the Tears as she strode along, she turned to open a door then spoke “Right Crybaby in we go let’s get you nice and clean ready for the evening's entertainment.. You sweetheart!” I was pushed into a wet room. It had a hoist from the ceiling with cuffs dangling from it, there was a large stand with two hot water bottles hanging upside down a clear tube from each led to an enema nozzle, they looked very full ! one was red the other black, on the stand was all manner of tubes and attachments. As I looked at them I felt the box open as Master Daddy removed the two top pieces, after that my arms were undone, as were my ankles from the wee saddle straps. Master Daddy then spoke to me “ Ok Crybaby Up you get and step out the “punishment box” as I did he started unstrapping the arm binder, as it came off Mistress Mummy came over after setting the shower temperature, she spoke to me “Now Crybaby let’s get You undressed stinky girlie Crybaby!” As I Was stripped to just my Tena and pads Master Daddy came over with a bucket setting it down beside me.

Mistress mummy pulled the disposable off throwing it into the bucket as Master Daddy put a wet towel over it, remarking “Clever girlie Crybaby That’s quite a good effort for a potty virgin ! Handies up in the air!”He then put my wrists in the cuffs, I slowly was hoisted to the balls of my feet by Mistress Mummy. They pushed me under the spray it felt lovely as Mistress Mummy lifted a pump spay then started at my neck spraying pink foam on me it smelled of strawberries. Once my whole body from the neck down was covered they lifted a shower head washing all the mess from me, I could no longer smell my own mess only the strawberries 🍓I started too relax my crying ebbing to light sobbing which they ignored.

Next I was pulled out the water as Mistress Mummy was spraying more pink foam on me, Master Daddy winched me off my feet by three inches I now hung by My arms whimpering.

Mistress Mummy put on rubber gloves then she started massaging the pink foam on me, my crotch got her attention as did my rear this made me Very excited, this too Was simply ignored by them. Master Daddy pushed me back under the water as it fell over me I now felt different much more sensitive to the water as I noticed Mistress Mummy at the controller the water was getting much hotter as my skin stared to turn red.

Master Daddy was wheeling over the stand with the two hot water bottles hanging from it!! Mistress mummy took the tube from him put an arm around me then spoke “Open your leggies Wide Crybaby! “ as I did she pushed the lubricated plug inside me, I now felt the hot flow inside me filling me “Clever girlie Crybaby close your leggies ankles together feeties facing outwards then Do Not Move !!!”.....they spoke quietly together then Mistress mummy left the room. This was the first time I had been alone with Master Daddy he rubbed my filling tummy then spoke “Clever girlie Crybaby filling up nicely, Ok lets you and I have a wee talk...Mistress Mummy and I are going to do some Very WKD things to you next! none of which You Crybaby will find enjoyable, but as I want You to please Mistress mummy Every time she asks you “would her Crybaby like a rest” You Will Say No Thank You Mistress Mummy I am a Naughty Crybaby please continue!....Do I Make Myself Clear?? (I nodded) If Crybaby You disobey Me on this I will take you to “the quiet room” and punish You untill You pass out Is That Clear!!!” (I nodded) Clever girlie Crybaby then we will get on fine You and I , Now lets give this a wee hand “ Master Daddy took the bag pushed the last into me rapidly as he did Mistress Mummy came back in with my dress and various items of bondage gear....Master Daddy patted my rear then slowly removed the nozzle from my rear “leggies tight together feeties outwards you have permission to empty Crybaby!” I did not need a second telling ! it flowed down the rear of my legs as it did Master Daddy sprayed the pink foam over me, then Mistress Mummy pushed the second tube up inside me this one felt strange cooler than the first as it went in I felt strange like everything was slowing down, I was very aware of everything I could hear my own breath every sound they made?

Mistress Mummy loved this part a good friend who was a nurse made up the enema mix a thick gel full of drugs, First was a mental stimulus that made the Slave very aware, next was a powerful diuretic & a laxative that would bring constant liquid movement for 8 hours, a salt & minerals mix would keep the Slave hydrated and able to cry tears for prolonged periods, lastly was a nerve drug that made the nerve endings Very sensitive.

She smiled to hubby as the last of the gel made its way into her New Toys intestines, she was now soaking wet & feeling flush holding Still for a moment to let the urge to climax pass !! The look in his eyes telling her the drugs were in his system!!

As the last drained into him she removed the plug hanging it up on the stand,Mistress Mummy Spoke “Ok Sweetheart I want you to hold that in for five more minutes (she looked at the clock talking to her hubby as five mins passed) Ok now you have permission to go....Do it slowly for us ....that’s the way good Crybaby Slowly! that’s a Clever girlie are you done ?” (I nodded) Well Done Crybaby lets get you dressed”

What happened next confused me ? They dried me very gently being ever so kind as Mistress mummy lifted the white silk petticoat on me. It was then I realised I had no hair what so ever from my neck down ! she told me how cute I was teasing me over my nipples playfully, the pvc pink maids dress followed then a black under bust corset this she put on not too tightly next came a pink leather garter this looked like a climbing harness? A wide waist band with thigh cuffs connected via hip straps. Then came pink tights with frilly tops followed by cuffs at my ankles and knees in pink. Master Daddy came over and took the ball gag out as he did Mistress mummy lifted my chin up putting a posture collar on me tightly this made me Look upwards it was a severe item with a metal rod that was adjustable to force the head backwards ....they both seemed pleased with me...I was still feeling strange as I heard there voices so loud in my head Mistress Mummy Spoke first “Clever girlie Crybaby you look lovely so let’s get you to the playroom as You sweetheart have an appointment with the Naughty chair!” They both laughed..Master Daddy spanked me firmly making me gasp as I felt he had spanked me with a paddle but it was only his hand ? He spoke to me “Remember what I Told You Crybaby!....or Fucking Else ...Move Crybaby Pain Toy..follow Mistress Mummy!!” I was led back to the dungeon....tearing up.....as I entered the dungeon there was a frame that loosely resembled a chair it had a single leg too it’s center from this was a 360deg swivel that could also be tilted, the seat base had two leather covered pads on two curved outward runners at the center it had a shaft this had an oval pad just off the base ten inches, master daddy patted the chair “Up you get Crybaby kneel on these pads & bend over the big pad Crybaby.....clever girlie hurry up we don’t have all night!” As I straddled the chair my tummy rested on the pad, they set about strapping me to the chair by my calf’s then my upper thighs, once done Mistress Mummy spoke “Take a deep breath Crybaby & hold it in, then when I Tell You exhale Fully !” As I did I felt the corset tightening around my waist! She barked at me “Exhale Crybaby! More let it All out !.... Clever girlie!... again!...Deep Breath... Clever girlie exhale Now !... clever girlie that’s it pant through it ! As You are taking this Crybaby!” I was now taking short breaths due to the restrictions of the corset narrowing my waist!....Master Daddy spoke to me “Handies behind your back Crybaby..clever girlie that’s the way!” I had a spreader bar fitted then I felt my arms being pulled upwards, I started whimpering then spoke “please I can’t go any further.. please Master Daddy!” He stopped,as I did he spanked me firmly “Open You’re Mouth Wide!!” Mistress Mummy had a gag it was shaped like a cock 4” long Down turned the end looked to be full of holes.

It was part of a lower jaw mask made from pink rubber, it went over my nose she pulled the two half’s tightly behind my head inserting the nostril ovals!

Looking at me with a WKD grin she spoke “Now Crybaby tell me have You ever been force Fed?...(I shook my head) Aaawww Clever girlie Crybaby...Hear that Master Daddy Crybaby is a feeder virgin...Don’t fret Crybaby we’re going to change that Now sweetheart!!”

Mistress mummy pulled over a small cart it had a blender on it, beside that was what looked like a water gun with a clear tube from it? Next too that was a plate it had a chocolate cake a bowl of Raw sprouts a can of dog food & four eggs, she cut the cake in half putting it in the blender followed by half of the rest of the ingredients! A flick of the blender and it all turned to a mushy brown/green liquid, .this was poured into the gun..She spoke to Master Daddy “”Ok Master Daddy Hold Her headie Still!” I felt my head held firm from behind as Mistress mummy attached the tube from the gun she then pushed the handle hard ! The goo flowed up the clear pipe then enter my mouth,I swallowed the first mouth full ! It was Not very pleasant as my taste buds picked out the variety of foods...she spoke to me “Clever girlie Crybaby that’s it sweetheart swallowing your feed for us...Ok here we Go!!” She pushed the plunger with all her might! I Suddenly had to swallow at an alarming rate with no time for breath over and over I swallowed as I fought the urge for air as the last of it filled my stomach! Mistress Mummy seemed Very pleased as she returned to the blender filling the second batch, I was whimpering as I felt very full, Master Daddy still held my head, Mistress Mummy looked over at me then spoke “Clever girlie Crybaby eating All your Num’Nums.....would our Crybaby like a wee rest ?” I felt Master Daddy grip tighter..I knew what he wanted...I muffed past the feeder gag “No Mistress Mummy I have been a naughty Baby please can I have More ”.....she looked at me again “what Crybaby...Don’t You want a wee rest? Do You Want Mistress Mummy to feed you more? ( I nodded) Very well!... Clever girlie Crybaby..Master Daddy can you hand me the flask please!” I felt my head being let go as Master Daddy went to her with a steel flask she poured it in the blender putting the top on, Mistress Mummy hit the switch as she did she kissed Master Daddy then spoke to him “Put Crybaby in the head harness with her headie fully back!” Master Daddy came over as my face suddenly changed tears running down my face he spoke to her...”Mistress mummy I think Crybaby has worked out what flask I gave you” as Master Daddy strapped my head back tightly, Mistress Mummy came over with the gun.....she spoke “Crying won’t stop us sweetheart..Now I want this kept Down Don’t Dare Bring this Back Up Or You Will Be Punished Severely Crybaby!....in we go Sweetheart Swallow..Clever girlie that’s a good toilet girlie!!”......(Mistress Mummy nodded over my shoulder) Clever girlie Crybaby..Master Daddy has something for you Sweetheart!” I felt something at my rear slowly pushing into me ! As Master Daddy started to lift me slightly in the bonds, Suddenly he started thrusting slow long thrusts ..”Clever girlie Crybaby you swallow for Mistress Mummy as Master Daddy fills this end toilet girlie Crybaby that’s it Cry for us..Come on Crybaby CRY LOUDER!” Suddenly he started thrusting so hard the frame shook....Mistress Mummy pushed hard on the plunger.....as I swallowed hard to keep up, Master Daddy started spanking me!....as he did the door opened & a much younger girl walked in she was Asian around 5’4” slim built with jet black hair she was dressed in a red rubber uniform, she was carrying a black leather draw string bag, Mistress Mummy spoke to her “Hi D you just timed that perfect Crybaby is just on her second feeding..as you can see Master Daddy is giving her a hard time !” They all giggled as Master Daddy stopped briefly to kiss this new girl, then simply resumed fucking me...Mistress Mummy emptying the last of the gun in me spoke “Well Done Crybaby...Now this is Mistress D But you will call her Mistress Nanny, we have invited her over to help us tonight as Crybaby we are going to take shifts punishing You as sleeping will not be an option for You this weekend, I want every ounce of emotional destruction from You Crybaby! Mistress Nanny is going to help me with your first punishment (she was tucking my huge dress into the belt on the corset front) we are going to put Some nice large needles in those cute Baby’balls of Yours !” Just as she spoke Master Daddy tensed Up! Climaxed inside me....I Did Cry much harder....as Master Daddy wiped my rear with a small cloth catching his deposit! Then putting on a robe he spoke “Clever girlie Crybaby that was fun..Now Remember What I Told You..” he kissed them both and left to shower....”Mistress Nanny put a leather roll on the trolley slowly opening it..inside were rows of needles some up too 6” in length ! Mistress Mummy sprayed my balls with alcohol it felt very cold.......Both of them put on rubber gloves...as Mistress Mummy undid the feeder gag she spoke “Let’s Get You gagged so you don’t disturb Us as we punish You Crybaby..Open Wide....I Said Wide Crybaby!!” She pushed some kind of wax soaked cloth into each cheek then forced the cloth Master Daddy had wiped me with between them over my tongue so I could taste him!! Then she put a strap too the head harnessing over the wad gagging,

Next she wound a steel ring around the base of my cock pulling a strap to separate my balls in two, she nodded to Mistress Nanny who spoke to me “Now Crybaby Sweetheart Take a big Deep Breath and hold it in please Clever girlie Crybaby In we go!” I screamed into the gagging such was the pain from the needle passing through my right ball !!

65 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 13

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, tough love, The Cliffhanger (TM)

WC: 4.2k

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One of Mia’s favorite post-date rituals is a long, hot shower. Whether a one-nighter in the Beverly Wilshire or a week on an 80-foot yacht in the Mediterranean, Mia arrives home to wiggles and pets with Pamela, a strawberry Pop Tart and a luxurious shower complete with her good conditioner and lots of exfoliation.

Truthfully, the tradition was born from feeling dirty after her first date. When she came home to her scruffy Mid City studio apartment, she shook violently through her entire shower, scrubbing herself raw with a Dollar Store loofah. But she went on another date, and then another, soon relaxing into the comfort she brought her clients, letting it comfort her, too.

The shower remained part of her routine. Sometimes the Pop Tart made it in with her, propped on a shelf beside her Kiehl’s products for her to take bites of between verses of “Fly Me to the Moon.” Pammy usually lay on the bathmat waiting for her, thwapping her tail against the tile floor when Mia hit a sour note.

Mia had no interest in showering on the afternoon she left Rio de Janeiro. Despite the fact that she came straight from the airport to the show and straight into bed for a long night, she wanted to hang on to all of it as long as possible. Her skin still wears the love of his mouth and the scent of his sheets. She can’t just get rid of that, especially now.

His flight left hours earlier than hers, so she lies in the memories of last night as heavy as the dense, wet fog that surrounds their little mountain retreat. She twists in the sheets, fighting for more sleep that won’t come. When it’s time to get up, she knows she can’t let go, not yet. She can’t let all the color Rio brought her fade, not until she’s really gone.

Mia’s slow packing up, loaded down with luggage despite being there for under 24 hours. She suspects she’s leaving something behind, despite having barely unpacked. All the way through airport security, she mentally sifts through her belongings, checking them off. She has her passport, her phones, her house keys, her phone charger, her power converter.

She’s somewhere over Mexico when she decides what she left behind was a piece of her, the piece that gets to live in the memory of the night before. The rest of her has to move on.

Silver walks through a cloud of Hermes 24 Faubourg, inhaling as she goes. She picked up a bottle in Monte Carlo last week after a night tangled up in Sylvie. Silver’s never been accused of sentimentality, but decided if she is forced to be away from this intangibly incredible woman, she may as well have a token that is exclusively hers and reminds her of what’s exclusively theirs.

The doorbell rings. Silver smiles. She straightens the lapels of her blazer, hot rod red rather than her usual monotone uniform, and heads for the door of her dressing room. Down the blank white corridor to her marble staircase, her heels click mutedly, carrying her with grace to where her housekeeper will have brought Penny for their meeting.

They’re in the solarium today. Silver likes to take advantage of the gloomy Los Angeles days when they come available. Even better if it rains, which it looks like it might. She’s serving a fine Lady Grey in a vintage Royal Copenhagen set an old favorite client left her in her will.

Penny’s back is facing her when she arrives. She’s perched on the end of her seat, ramrod straight with her legs crossed at the ankle, just the way Silver taught her years ago. She’s a polished, pretty picture in a butter yellow, smartly tailored pantsuit with her hair in soft waves. She doesn’t turn as Silver approaches.

In an uncharacteristically warm gesture that just somehow feels right, Silver bends to reach her, tucking her arms around Penny’s shoulders, resting her chin on her head. She smells freshly showered, a lovely floral and fruit bouquet, soft, touchable elegance.

“Hello, my love. I’ve missed you.”

Penny raises a hand to rest over Silver’s, thumbing against the series of Cartier Love bracelets locked around her dainty wrists. She releases a deep sigh.

“You have no idea,” Penny croaks.

Silver frowns. She releases her friend and walks around the set of chairs to sit beside her. Penny’s eyes are clouded and far away. Her hands, lying in her lap, are limp, the cuticles shredded from her picking. Her expertly applied makeup doesn’t quite cover the circles under her eyes. Silver’s heart rate kicks up in her chest.

“Penny, what’s--”

“Please,” Penny sighs, “Don’t call me that.”

Silver startles. She sits back in her chair and folds her legs, blinking quickly.

“Mia,” Silver begins again, the name foreign on her tongue, a name she hasn’t called her closest friend in many years, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mia seems to search the blank gray sky for answers. Silver flicks anxiously at her ruby and emerald ring, the one given to her by her grandmother.

“Do you remember why I chose the name ‘Penny?’”

Silver pauses, then nods. “From the Sinatra song. “Pennies from Heaven.””

“I chose it as a way to hang on to who I am through all this. I was worried I’d lose myself in the persona I wanted to create. I thought keeping my name so personal was a smart move, that I’d never really forget myself in this. I don’t think it worked.”

Silver’s lips turn down at the corners. Her eyes drop.

“I don’t blame you, Silver. Please know that. You saved me from becoming something so much scarier. Without you, I’m not sure I could recognize myself at all now.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence weighing between them. Silver doesn’t even know where to begin.

“You want to stop seeing clients,” she says plainly, glancing over for confirmation. Mia nods solemnly.

“You feel you cannot continue because you’ve fallen in love with one.”

Mia wets her lower lip and sighs, nodding slowly.

“Tell me this, my darling,” Silver whispers tenderly, leaning forward, “How do you figure you’ve managed to fall in love if none of this is real?”

Mia’s eyes flicker. Her brow puckers for a moment, then softens. “I don’t--”

“I staunchly disagree with your idea that you lost yourself in Penny. I think instead you found yourself. I think she gave you the freedom to believe you were worthy of praise and admiration, worthy of your own innate power. I think Penny helped Mia transcend. I think Penny is as much your name as Mia is. I think you’re punishing yourself, perceiving love as a weakness. And frankly, I think you should know better.”

Mia’s jaw tightens visibly. Silver rolls her shoulders back and sits up, squaring off.

“No one knows how to love like you do. You lead every day with love. Every choice you make on every date, every meeting, every run through the canyons with Pammy, every car ride with Gus, every FaceTime call with Peter, all of it beautiful expressions of your love. I think you don’t recognize it in yourself because your fucking parents never showed it a day in their lives. I think somehow all the love they were meant to have was born into you instead. I think the first time you’ve really seen it in yourself is with him and it scares the living hell out of you.”

Mia whimpers a sobbing breath. “You’re fucking right, it does! What do I do with this now? What am I supposed to be? I have all this useless love for him fucking rotting me from the inside. It can’t go anywhere, Silver. Where is it supposed to go? Into a fairytale ending? Not for the whore. Not for the woman who sells her time and her body. You know better than anyone she doesn’t get the happy ending.”

Silver flinches, thinking of Sylvie, of all the things she’s yet to tell her, all the things that could flatten this pretty thing, this sweet little flame they’re tending before it has the chance to thrive. She shakes her head, refusing to give in to this kind of thinking.

“Haven’t you been a martyr long enough?” Silver cries, lurching nearly out of her seat, “You’ve given and given and given for five fucking years, I can’t imagine how there could be anything left to give. You’re saddled with the guilt of knowing you cannot continue being a courtesan under the conditions of your personal life, but instead of accepting and embracing the possibilities that offers, you’ll throw it all away? This job that has at once sucked you dry and sustained you? This man that has come alive in your heart and in your bed? For what? For guilt? Will that really be enough? Why can’t you let yourself have something good?”

“What good?” Mia wails, standing, lifting her hands into her hair as she frantically begins to pace in front of the rain streaked windows. Silver’s not sure when it began to rain, but it’s pouring.

“What good do I get? He can’t be with me, Silver, and you well know it. It will ruin him. His whole career, all the strain he’s been under this summer, all of it was bringing him here, to this spot. He deserves this, all of this, all of the praise and the adoration that everyone is giving him now and everything he gets when his album drops. I can’t be the thing he gives it up for. I can’t and I won’t.”

“Why does he deserve it and you don’t?” Silver breathes.

Mia stops. She blinks hard at Silver so a fat wet tear drips down her cheek. She sniffles.

Silver stands slowly, carefully, looking almost her age for once. She approaches Mia head on, fearless but soft. She cups Mia’s sticky wet cheeks.

“Why does he get to enjoy the fruits of his labor and you don’t? Why does he get to stand on top of the mountain, victorious, looking past all the good and the bad that got him there, and you still struggle to climb? Look around, my sweet darling. There’s nowhere left to go. You have done so much good. So much unsung effort and hurt and heart got you to the summit. You’ll never be recognized for it like he is; that’s the nature of your job. But you must recognize it in yourself or none of it matters. What good is it, all of it, if you cannot see what you’ve done?”

Mia is silent, breathing heavily, trembling. Silver closes her fathomless eyes and tilts her forehead to Mia’s.

“You have done enough. You have been enough. You are enough.”

Silver holds Mia when she breaks. She strokes through her hair, smoothing it away from the back of her neck like her mum used to do. She massages circles around the knob at the top of her spine and coos, cradling the closest thing she’s ever experienced to true love in her own life, hoping against hope Mia will be able to accept hers.

Shawn feels beautifully even.

There was something about that night with her in Rio. I mean, fuck, there was everything about that night with her. But where he usually finds himself jonesing for a fix of her about 48 hours after they separate, he doesn’t now. He’s in New York doing radio promo for the album drop next week. He left her in bed, spoiled with kisses five days ago. He feels… ok.

Just because he’s not tearing his hair out and panting her name when he frantically fucks his fist in the shower doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss her. He misses her in this beautifully sane way that doesn’t feel dangerous or scary, it feels right. He thinks about her often, when it’s a quiet moment in a hired car crossing the city for his next interview or waiting for a table at some chic Brooklyn diner. It doesn’t eat at him and drive him up a wall. It feels like the need for a hit he’s been near constantly craving from her since the beginning of summer has finally worn off.

He thinks, or hopes, that it’s because maybe she misses him, too.

He’s heading back to LA soon for the album drop. He has a Spotify promo show and a bunch of other press to do as he gets ready for the release of his career. He’d like to see her, maybe take a quiet morning and bring Pammy on a hike through the canyons. He wants to learn her favorite spots.

Shawn stands outside in a courtyard after Elvis Duran with his legs crossed and the phone to his ear. He chews on a cuticle and waits to hear her pretty voice.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

Shawn blinks. He holds the phone away from his ear. He squints at the screen almost comically. He tries again.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

In a blind panic, with nothing else to do, he tries it again.

“I’m sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Goodbye.”

Oh my god.

It takes Shawn a few hours to remember to try calling the agency. He blames the daze the call put him in and the busy afternoon for how long he spent thinking he has absolutely no avenue to her, and for the state of complete disarray it put him in.

He struggles to focus on the rest of his press stops. His precious evenness is long gone. He’s jittery and irritable and unfocused. His team watches him with trepidation, unsure what’s knocked him so off-kilter. It’s worse than it’s been before when he’s been without her. Before, she was a phone call or a text away. Now, she’s just gone.

The thought hits him like a brick over the head midway through a Buzzfeed interview. It manages to perk him up slightly. He at least has hope now that goes beyond racing to wait outside her house until she deigns to talk to him. But he’s forced to wait until that night during dinner when he can slip away.

He finds the number under “Dentist” and dials, bouncing back and forth from toe to heel, knocking into the wall behind him.

“Thank you for calling La Splendeur, how may I assist you?”

“Colette?” Shawn squawks, pausing to scrub a hand through his hair, “I need to talk to Mia. I mean, Penny.”

There’s a long, heavy pause. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

He huffs. “It’s Shawn Mendes. My verbal password is ‘Ireland.’ I need to talk to Penny, please, Colette.”

Another pause. He turns and kicks the wall not too gently.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mendes, Penny is no longer employed by La Splendeur.”

He almost drops his fucking phone. “She… what?”

“Penny no longer sees clients through this agency,” Colette explains softly, her fake accent faltering.

“I don’t understand,” he gripes, “She just… quit?”

Colette sighs. “I’m not really allowed to--”

“Wait, Colette, please,” Shawn pleads, pressing his free hand into the brick wall and hanging his head, “Please, you’ve gotta have her personal cell, right?”

“I’m not able to give that to you, Mr. Mendes.”

He grunts and fists his hand, tapping it repeatedly against the brick. “Please, there has to be something… shit.”

His heart is in his throat. His forehead rests against the prickle of the brick. He exhales slowly, trying to calm down.

“I’m sorry, Shawn.”

She’s dropped the accent altogether. It feels like the final nail in the coffin of this conversation. He nods, though she can’t see him.

“Yeah. Uhm, it’s ok. Thank you anyways.”

She says goodbye and hangs up. The silence hurts his ears.

Edge - Shawn Mendes

By: Christian Becker, Editor in Chief, September 29th, 2020

The fourth full length release from Canadian singer-songwriter Shawn Mendes has been the most highly anticipated of the fall. Though already a multi-time Grammy nominee with several international tours under his belt, including an impressive festival run this summer culminating in the performance of his career in front of a crowd of 80k on the third night of Rock in Rio only weeks ago, the 22-year-old remained a boy in the eyes of many, especially those who were paying attention when he cropped up fresh-faced and innocent at 16.

No longer. This record is a definitive departure from Mendes’ boyhood. The sound is mature and focused even in its variations of style, from R&B to rock to soul to bouncy pop that he knows better than to shy away from, even if it is associated with a younger fanbase. The lyrics are a masterful collection of mourning, of longing, of lust, of life itself through his eyes, very clearly now the eyes of a man. They contrast beautifully with his surprise summer single release, “Far,” a lively, radio friendly pop duet with Bex, his very recently ex-girlfriend. “Far” is a celebration of freedom, of feeling totally safe with a partner in a way never thought possible. (The break-up, well documented by major gossip outlets, begs the question of whether another round of Mendes’ more heart-wrenching work is on its way. If it is, it may well have been worth it.)

Edge as a whole is a coming of age of sorts, lacking the obvious connotations of Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle” or Bowie’s “Changes.” Mendes has arrived. He stands unafraid of his past, of the critics who have seen his babyface and can’t manage to unsee it. He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge, as honest and as poignant as I’ve ever seen. For that we at Vertigo Magazine commend him and look forward to future triumph and heartbreak.

5/5 stars.

Shawn sniffs and tucks an arm behind his head. He’s read Becker’s review so many times he’s got it nearly memorized. He thinks it’s his favorite thing that’s ever been written about his work. He doesn’t even mind anymore that Mia wore his necklace on a date with the guy. Mostly.

The first time he read it, he felt like he let go of a breath he’d been holding for weeks. The news had just broken about the “Shex” break-up -- the stunt had done its job and run its course. Bex’s album sales had been much higher than anticipated and her mid-size national club tour had sold out. She was invited out to open for Alessia Cara on her international arena bout next summer. And as for Shawn, the single absolutely exploded, declared “song of the summer” by just about every pop radio station on the planet. The album sales were even better than his team originally planned for. Announcing the international stadium tour, his first of its kind, would come next in just a few weeks. 10 months, 86 cities. He’s so excited it hurts.

He’s made his peace with it all. Mia was right. In the end, it was worth it. He’ll never be just a kid again in anyone’s eyes. For all the time he spent feeling trapped by it, by the lies and the smiles, it freed him. The whole summer and all its contradictions brought him freedom.

Shawn has a glorious two week break before putting his nose back to the grindstone to start promoting the On the Edge fall 2021 tour. He plans to spend nearly all of it writing, like he’s been doing in every free moment lately. Missing Mia seems to make it pour out of him.

He unlocks his phone again and reads highlights of the last paragraph, saved in his Notes app.

Mendes has arrived

He stands unafraid of his past

He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge

They feel like big statements. Shawn supposes they’re appropriate. He knew when he was making this album how personal and real it is. He held nothing back -- the darkness, the light, the hate, the hope.

He feels drawn to the words and how they paint him. He wants to live up to them. He knows his album does. He’s not sure about himself yet, though.

Shawn cranks himself upright to sit. He chews his lower lip and thinks about it again.

He has this… daydream. He imagines throwing himself in the car and speeding to her house, only about 15 minutes away. He bangs on the door and takes her in his arms and tells her everything, everything he’s held back for the sake of their professional relationship, everything he told himself he wasn’t allowed to feel, everything he’s pretty convinced, after Rio, that she feels for him too.

Every time he lets himself think about it, he adds more detail -- the cadence of her moaning breath when he sweeps her into his arms, the way her hair smells, the way Pamela lies at their feet, content that her owner is safe and happy. It’s lush with overdramatic nuances, but that’s just what his brain’s been after lately.

He places before us his heart in record form for us to judge

That’s what’s left. He has shown her all he can. The only thing left is to tell her.

His back straightens. He looks around. Is he really doing this? This, the stupid daydream he’s had pinballing around his addled brain as a distraction from his album release stress? He’s just going to go over there and confront her?

His brows lift.

Fuck yeah, he is.

There’s construction in Coldwater Canyon. The lane is backed up by guys with stop signs, waving through traffic from both sides as the two lane road is reduced further. What usually takes Shawn a few minutes takes over an hour.

He supposes that should’ve been his first clue, that bad omen.

The second should’ve been the absence of Pammy’s leash on the rail outside.

The third comes when he jumps to peek through her garage door window and sees both her cars inside. The house is dark. No Mia, no Pamela. No one.

He plants a hand on his hip and pants, sifting the other through his hair. His jaw tenses. He closes his eyes and forces down the panic.

It’s time for the nuclear option.

He reaches for his phone and leans against her railing, enjoying her view.

“Hey, Colette? It’s Shawn Mendes. I need to talk to Silver.”

Shawn would be embarrassed by how hard he worked to wear Colette down enough to get Silver’s number. He definitely groveled, he certainly begged. But he doesn’t have the capacity to feel anything but anxiety as Silver’s number rings.

“This is Silver,” a smooth, cool voice answers.

“Silver, hey. Uhm, this is Shawn. Mendes.”

Good start. You sound like a fucking teenager calling his ex-girlfriend’s house because she blocked your number.

Silver is quiet for a few long beats. “Hello, Shawn.”

He sighs. “I tried calling her a few weeks ago. The number’s disconnected. You probably know about that. I just… I need to talk to her. Colette wouldn’t give me her number. I… I just went to her house and she’s gone. I’m kind of freaking out.”

He’s definitely freaking out. And he knows she can hear it. Again, he can’t be bothered to worry about how it looks or feels. Nothing feels worse than having no idea where she is.

“I’m sorry, Shawn. I really can’t--”

“God, Silver, please,” he begs, voice weary as he leans against her front door, “I… fuck. I love her. I really fucking love her. And I never said it. I was an idiot, like I thought I could make it go away because I knew I wasn’t supposed to. But, Jesus, I love her so much. You know her better than almost anyone. I… I think she might love me, too. Please, Silver. Where is Mia?”

Silver’s intake of breath is sudden, startling Shawn. He frowns, then realizes he used her real name. He turns his gaze downward a little sheepishly.

“She told you,” Silver murmurs, wearing a placid smile that Shawn can’t see.

Shawn sighs. “She told me. Before Rio. When… it was the day of the in-call at her place.”

Silver is painfully silent again. It grinds Shawn’s teeth. He squirms against the door.

“Shawn, listen to me. If I tell you where she is, you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Shawn swears, lurching off the door to cling to the railing.

Another long pause.

“You have to be patient with her. She’s worth it, I promise. But she needs to see it from you, that you’re willing. Can you do that?”

Shawn nods for a few seconds before speaking. “I can do that.”

Silver smiles. “Good. Every summer, Mia and Peter spend the month of August at her great grandmother’s old house in Ravello. Peter couldn’t go this year because of school, and Mia missed it. She sent Pammy off to Gus and she left last week.”

Shawn nods frantically, temporarily drunk on finally having an answer. “Ok. Ok, great. Where… uh, where’s Ravello?”

Silver laughs. “The Amalfi Coast, Shawn. Mia’s in Italy.”

He huffs a breath. “Ok. Well. I guess I’m going to Italy.”

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WE’RE GOING TO ITALY!!!!!!

If you’d like to buy me an espresso or a cappuccino or an affogato, the link is in my bio.

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @shawnsmusical @paigeasourous @tell-me-when-ur-ready @softmendesss @searchingunderthestars @buggy-blogs @mendesficsxbombay @tnhmblive @greedydevil @tamegray @meltingicequeen @havethetimeeofyourlifee @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @hannahlouiseee @sarahlauramendes @shawnsmoose @mendezlatte @1dbetch @graysonmendes @shawnsababe @ineffsi @ultradreamologistblog @bluerose711 @sauveteen @valedictorian65 @cleocc @ly--canthrope

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318 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 5 years

Text

Curtains

Pairing: Roger x Fem Reader

Summery: There’s a problem with your curtains...you don’t have any.

Warning: Smut (18+), Exhibitionism, masturbating, public fingering, unprotected sex, dom!roger, little bit of choking.

Words: 2305

A/N: No one asked for this and I didn’t intend to write it but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Inspired by THIS ask I sent to @idontbelievethiss (who also very kindly beta read it for me) about living with a big ol glass door in my bedroom that doesn’t have any curtains on it (true story). This fic is an ode to exhibitionism and uhhhhhh I need to get me a neighbour as cute as Roger.

Taglist: @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr

The flat you’d rented was small – amounting to barely more than a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen-slash-living-slash-dining area – and needed a little work. Nothing huge, just small cosmetic stuff that even the poorest student could fix themselves without too much trouble. Which was okay since you and everyone else on the street were students, and none of you were particularly well off. It gave you something to bond with your neighbours over. Or it would if you could pluck up the courage to talk to any of them. You’d waved at the boys in the place next door once but the blonde one was too much your type for you to talk to without feeling flustered and you were already nervous enough just moving in. So you focused on settling in and imagined the conversations you’d have about the broken lightbulbs and loose taps.

The most annoying thing you’d had to fix was the curtains. Not the curtains themselves, though they were worn and faded and musty enough to warrant replacing. No, it was the brackets that screwed into the wall and held the whole curtain rod up. They were splintered and chipped like someone had once tried to swing from the curtain rod and found it couldn’t quite hold up the extra weight. Someone probably had. Drunk most likely. Either way it felt like one harsh tug on a curtain would bring the whole thing down on your head. Which meant you’d had to spend an afternoon trying to find a screwdriver that fit so you could remove them and then you’d had to go to the hardware store to buy new brackets and screws. Of course, now it was a full month later and the new curtains you’d picked up still weren’t hanging. Your fault, obviously. The brackets you’d picked first were much too small to hold the rod you already had. Then you’d realised you need different screws and a new screwdriver since none of yours were the right size. And then between classes and adjusting to your new life it had kind of slipped your mind.

It possibly should have bothered you more that the door that led from your bedroom into the back garden was left curtain-less, especially since it was a glass door. It had bothered you at first. You’d cursed yourself for a week straight for not fixing the damn thing, staring out into the dark garden as you tried to sleep, feeling like a good hard orgasm would help send you off but also feeling uneasy at doing it with no protection from the outside world. But then there’d come a night when you were just so overwhelmingly horny you couldn’t ignore it. A week of rushed orgasms in the shower and on the couch had left you desperate for something better, where you could take your time and really enjoy it. And you couldn’t shake the image of the blonde from next door. It was dark outside, you’d reasoned, and it wasn’t like you were facing the main road – just the back garden where no one was likely to go, especially not at quarter to midnight. And besides, you were safely hidden away under your covers in your dark room so there was no reason to believe anyone would see you. You slept better that night than you had since you moved in.

A few nights later you did the same thing, after your cute blonde neighbour smiled at you. And then again the next night after he waved hello. And then the next day, because at nine in the morning on a Saturday you could almost guarantee you were the only one awake so really there was no risk and what else could you do when the only thing in your head was the neighbour’s laugh. You’d stayed tucked up that time, carefully watching for any sign of movement out the back door, but gradually you let the covers drop little by little. Before you knew it, you were regularly getting off in full view of the back garden. You knew that the chances of someone actually seeing you were tiny but something about the mere possibility of it happening had you reaching for the vibrator again.

Which was the only explanation you had as to why you were yet again spread out on your bed, at two in the afternoon, skirt and underpants thrown to the side, shirt in a crumpled heap next to you. You held the vibrator against your clit once more, moaning as your orgasm began its approach again. You’d been going for twenty minutes or so with the vibe on the lowest setting, pressing it to your clit on and off, teasing yourself with it. Part of you wanted to flick it onto a higher setting now and just let yourself cum but part of you wanted to hold out, let it build a bit slower. You closed your eyes and let out a needy whine as you pulled the vibrator away again. After a few calming breaths you pressed it back to your clit. You could already feel your orgasm, picking up almost where you’d left it. Right as you were considering switching to a faster speed your eyes drifted to the door. A familiar figure was out there, in your back garden, casually looking into your room, blue eyes watching you intently. Your heart constricted with shock as your eyes met and you came, moaning loudly. By the time you’d got yourself back together he was gone.

The fact that the cute blonde from next door that you may have a slight crush on saw you like that was enough to have you blushing for the rest of the day. Even the slightest sign of his long golden tresses had you ducking for cover. By the evening you were desperate for a drink so, after checking the coast was clear, you headed down to the local pub. Within minutes you were stationed at the bar, two empty shotglasses beside you and a full pint in your hands, trying to drown out the memory of those eyes through your door, and the small voice that was telling you to see if it could happen again. It was going as well as you could hope it would when you saw those same eyes fix on you in the mirror above the bar. Cheeks already burning, you watched as he downed his drink and walked in your direction. “I knew I was good but I didn’t realise I could make a girl cum just by lookin’ at her” You turned to look at your neighbour, his back was to the bar and he leaned back on both elbows as he looked you over. “That- that’s not what happened. It wasn’t you,” you managed to stutter out. He pushed himself to his full height, turning toward you, “But I think it did have something to do with me, even if it was just by virtue of my impeccable timing. See, I think you like knowing people are watching you. Innocent shy little thing like you doesn’t have curtains in her bedroom? Has to mean something. And I think it means I could have you cumming on my fingers right here in a matter of minutes because you like the danger and you like being naughty where anyone could see you. You struggled not to whimper as you listened to him, heart rate increasing with every word. And by the way he laughed he could tell just what an effect he was having on you. “I’m Roger.” “You’re my neighbour yeah?” “One of. And what should I call you?” “Y/N” “Well Y/N,” his fingers tickled your knee, “shall we test my theory?” You were already uncrossing your legs, letting them fall open so he could trail his fingers up the inside of your thigh. His touch crept higher and higher up your leg as he finally slipped into your underwear. “Already soaked.” You breathing was heavier than it had been a moment ago, eyes darting around the crowd on the search for anyone who might suspect what was happening. “Look at me, love. Eyes stay on me while my fingers are in your tight little cunt.” All you could do was nod as he slowly worked two fingers deep into you, terrified that if you tried to speak you’d alert someone and everything would grind to a halt. And then he leaned into your ear, speaking softly despite the surrounding noise. “God you’re fucking filthy aren’t you. Have to be to get off like this. Y’know I was coming over to introduce myself properly this afternoon. Seen you around enough, thought I should. No answer when I knocked at the front so I decide to try round the back in case you couldn’t hear me. And wasn’t I glad I did. Didn’t expect to see the shy new girl being such a slut, practically inviting everyone to watch her. Guess it was my lucky day.” You couldn’t hold in a whimper as Roger increased the pace of his fingers. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since. About the way you came when you saw me. How your eyes went wide and how your cunt looked clenching around nothing. All the ways I want to fuck you in front of that door.” You came with a gasp, shuddering quietly as he pulled his fingers free and wiped them on your skirt. “Looks like I was right. Should I take you home now?” You knew he was being cocky and presumptive but all you could manage was a small, half begged, “Please.”

The moment he was in your room his lips were on your neck, sending pulses of electricity through your body as he unzipped your skirt. He detached himself briefly to yank your shirt over your head and then he was back, sucking at your skin as you tilted your head to encourage him. His hands were warm as they ran over your body and yours trembled slightly as they tried to unfasten his pants. You managed to push them down past his hips, setting his cock free, before he spun you round and pushed you towards the bed. “Hands and knees facing the door,” he ordered as he wiggled the rest of the way out of his jeans. You paused to pull your underwear off and then hurried to obey. You watched from your position as Roger pulled his own shirt off and then he disappeared behind you. The bed dipped and your heart pounded against your chest. “Being such a good slut for me,” he said as he grasped your hip, “wanna hear you moaning like you were this afternoon.” The ‘yes’ you were about to give was lost in a whine as he eased into you. He gave you a moment to adjust, kneading your arse, and then his fingers were digging into you as he began fucking you in earnest. It was rough and deep and there wasn’t much more you could do than clutch at the sheets and whine his name. You dropped your head forward but almost straight away his hand was around your throat forcing you to look up again. “Gotta keep looking at that door. Never know when someone could come by. And you wanna be seen don’t you.” You didn’t respond, too focused on how good he felt, but you did squeal when he pulled you backwards onto your knees, his hand squeezing your throat, his cock buried deep inside you. “Maybe I should call my bandmates over, let them see how slutty the new girl is.” You shook your head as much as you could under his grip but Roger just laughed in your ear. “Your head says no but by the way your cunt just clenched around me I’d say you quite like the idea.” You shook your head again, “Please move Roger, please fuck me.” “No,” He wrapped his free arm around your stomach, holding you still against him, “not till you admit you like the idea of people watching you like this,” You bit your lip, trying to wiggle out of his hold but it was too tight. You gave in, “fine Roger you win. I like it.” “Like what?” “Roger, fuck, I like the idea of being watched. I came when you saw me because you saw me and I kinda want someone to come over and see me now.” “Was that so hard to admit? Silly little slut.” You couldn’t respond because both his hands were gripping your hips, setting you to bouncing on his cock and the only coherent words you could form were ‘oh’ and ‘fuck’. You grabbed onto one of his wrists for support as you brought your other hand to your clit, furiously chasing your release. “Christ,” Roger groaned. You were sure you’d find bruises in the morning from how hard he was holding you but as your orgasm hit nothing could have convinced you it wasn’t worth it. You chanted his name, each separate “Roger” growing louder and overlapping until it sounded like one continuous word. He came with a grunt, followed by a gruff, “fuck” as you collapsed to the mattress together.

He stayed long enough to catch his breath and get redressed, talking to you while you lay where you’d landed when he’d lifted you off himself. “Next time I’ll fuck you up against the door shall I? Or maybe I’ll open it and let the rest of the street hear you.” You laughed softly without really understanding, watching as he pulled his shirt back on and made to leave. He paused in the doorway, “And hey, welcome to the street.” And then he was disappearing into the darkness.

#my writing #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #i started this at like 4pm yesterday and over the course of the evening and today i got it finished #i know its not the next part of SR but if its any consolation #im hoping to get 3 things posted this week #this is 1 #the anatf gift is due up on the 9th so that's a definite #and #if i have enough time then also SR p2 #just depends on how quickly things come together lmao #but i have absolutely nothing planned for this weekend #besides spending a couple hours setting up my bulletjournal #so i should be able to get a fair bit of writing done

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katedrakeohd · 4 years

Text

Nothing Like the Present (Part Two)

[Part 9 of A Very Valtorian Christmas ] (Masterlist)

TRH gang are still opening christmas presents...

Warnings: A little angst, mostly fluff.

..__________________________________..

Drake admires the amber color of the whiskey in the bottle that Nicholas gave him, wishing he could pour himself some but it's too early in the day.

Leaning against the sofa is a fishing rod that Drake received from Hana. Next to Drake, Kate is wearing a silver locket that he gifted to her. On her lap is a gift box containing red and black silky lingerie.

Kate had blushed when she opened it, while Maxwell had wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ooh, now you both have sexy jammies.”

Drake grumbles, “Next year I think we’ll open our gifts privately, after the guests leave.”

Hana smiles, “Oh but next year there will be baby presents to open too.”

Nicholas turns the pages on the leather-bound journal that Hana had given him. “I suppose in the Spring we’ll be throwing a baby shower.”

Maxwell gathers up the last few gifts and hands them out. Drake gets two envelopes, Kate gets an envelope and a large jar with a ribbon tied around the lid. She notices that both gifts are from Hana. In the jar are layers of ingredients, including marshmallows.

Kate smiles, “Let me guess, your famous hot chocolate recipe.”

Hana nods, “Of course, I know how much you like it.”

Kate lifts the tab on the envelope with a grin, “This is a pretty large set of instructions on how to prepare hot chocolate. What could this possibly be?”

Hana and Nicholas exchange a knowing glance, while Maxwell plays tug of war with one of the corgis on the floor. Drake sets his two envelopes aside, assuming they're Christmas cards, and watches Kate pull a folded document out of hers.

“What are these?” Kate asks as she flips through the pages.

Hana smiles, when realization dawns on Kate’s face.

“It's a copy of my Cordonian citizenship papers. Nicholas helped me make them official. Remember how my parents were pushing me to move back home when they came to visit during the lantern festival? Now I can live here permanently.”

Kate hugs her, “Oh Hana this is so wonderful. Now you can move in.”

Drake’s mouth drops open, “Wait what?”

Nicholas tries to explain as he can see the growing look of panic on Drake’s face.

“With the social season over, and where I’m no longer actively searching for a Queen to supply my heir, it would not be right for Hana to remain living at the Palace.”

Drake’s expression goes from panic to a frown, “So you’re just kicking her out? She’s your friend, and a Guardian of the Realm. Would it really be that scandalous to allow her to stay as your guest?”

Nicholas is surprised by Drake’s reaction, suddenly finding himself on the defensive. “Well...no, that's not what I meant. Kate invited her to live here, and once Hana finished her cultural studies to earn her citizenship, she told me she was eager to make her move. We weren’t quite sure how you’d feel about her moving in, considering your family is already growing.”

Everyone turns to look at Drake expectantly for his answer. He zeros in on Kate and her guilty expression as her eyes shift away, and then move back to him. The way Hana is holding Kate’s hand, and how they're leaning on each other causes an ache in the pit of Drake’s stomach. No dammit, I’m not giving in to selfish jealousy. I need to handle this like a mature adult.

Drake shrugs, giving Kate and Hana an uneasy smile. “Of course Hana can live here, she’s our friend, practically family.”

Kate breathes a sigh of relief, reaching out to touch his hand. “Thanks so much honey.”

Hana looks between Kate and Drake, trying to dispel the sudden awkwardness, “I don’t need to move in right away. I can wait until after the baby is born.”

Maxwell smiles, “Just in time to help out if you need it. I’m jealous of Auntie Hana already.”

Nicholas looks to his friend, and notices Drake’s jaw working, the clenching of his teeth setting his lips into a grim line. His hand keeps bunching and releasing the blanket on the couch next to him. When Drake catches the sympathetic look on the King’s face, he relaxes a little.

“So are we finished opening gifts now?” Drake asks hopefully.

Maxwell sees the two envelopes next to Drake on the sofa, “You haven't opened your christmas cards yet, might be something special in there.”

Hana opens up a package from Kate, revealing a silk scarf with an elegant jungle and tiger pattern, “Oh wow Kate, this is beautiful.”

Kate smiles, “I wanted to give you a scarf with a phoenix on it, as a welcome to Valtoria, but couldn't find one that was quite right.”

“No worries Kate, I love tigers. And the fiery colors are so pretty.”

Kate gives her a hug around the shoulders, grinning “I’m so glad you like it dear, plus now I can borrow it.”

Hana laughs as she holds the gift box out of Kate’s reach. “We’ll see.”

Drake tears into the first envelope, a photo of a green rowboat falls out of the Christmas card as he opens it, he turns it over to read the details written on the back, “What’s this?”

“Surprise!” Maxwell says, “Bertrand and I got you a boat. Hey you’ve finally got your own house on a lake, so we figured you could use a boat too.”

Drake smiles, “Thanks Max, I appreciate it.”

Maxwell looks off in the distance, holding his hands out to frame the view of the lake outside the window. “Picture it, rowing out onto the water with Kate and your little one, catching fish or just enjoying the quiet sounds of nature.”

Looking over at Kate, Drake could imagine it. He thought back to that night in Portavira when Kate had agreed to go fishing with him. He wondered how long it would be before they had the chance to do such a thing again. Maybe next summer Auntie Hana could babysit? Having her around might be a good thing after all.

Maxwell is still talking, “...I wanted to get you a bigger boat with a motor, but Bertrand insisted it wasn't in the budget. Then we haggled back and forth over wood or fiberglass, and the colour..”

Drake snaps out of his daydream of being on the lake with Kate on a sunny day, imagining her in a bathing suit.

“It's ok Max, this boat will do just fine. I see that it comes with it's own trailer, but I don't think the Manor’s SUV has a trailer hitch.” He shrugs, “But we’ll find a way to get the boat to the water.”

Maxwell and Kate share a knowing glance, and Kate encourages Drake to open the other envelope. “That Christmas card might help.”

Drake raises his eyebrow, mumbling as he opens the envelope, “I don’t see how, but ok…”

He pulls out a card that has a Papa bear sitting in an overstuffed chair with his bear cub in his lap, the juvenile text on the outside says “Have a Beary Merry Christmas Papa.”

Drake’s vision goes blurry as he tears up, and his breath catches in his throat. My first daddy Christmas card.

Maxwell covers his mouth with his hands, gasping with surprise, “Oh my God, Kate. We made Drake cry.”

Drake wipes his eye with the heel of his hand, trying to hide his embarrassment with a sniff and chuckle, “No..no you didn't. Besides, what do you mean we? I'm not your Daddy.”

“Open it, open it, open it!” Maxwell insists, bouncing with excitement.

Inside the Christmas card is a folded up vehicle listing from a local car dealership. When Drake unfolds the paper he sees that it has a picture of a blue pickup truck on it.

“You can't be serious?!” He exclaims, choking on the words, “You got me a truck?”

Kate nods, smiling and pointing out the truck's special features on the paper, “Yes, yes we did. Max helped me pick it out for you. It's a 2019 GMC Sierra, blue, with four doors, four wheel drive, heated seats, backup camera, V8 engine, trailer package, all the bells and whistles, everything a new Daddy could ever want in a vehicle, with plenty of room in the backseat for a child safety seat.”

Drake just stares at Kate, dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open. He'd never owned anything larger than a television in his life. And now he had his own truck.

As Kate goes on to describe the other vehicles that she and Max had looked at, and her conversation with the salesman, Drake tunes her out and just gazes at her with an expression of love and wonder. He was thinking about road trips with her sitting on the seat beside him and them both singing along to the music on the radio. He could already feel the excitement of having so much horsepower under his control and hear the hum of the tires on the pavement.

“…and he agreed to wave his commission and other fees if we do a promotional photo when we go in to sign the papers.”

Drake leans in to kiss her mouth to stop her from talking. When she giggles, he mumbles against her lips, punctuating each word with another kiss. “You're the best..wife..ever.”

Kate cups his face in her hands, loving his happy expression and his goofy grin, “So you don't mind posing for photos?”

Drake shakes his head, focusing on her lips, “..photos? What photos?”

“The guy at the dealership said that it would be a great way to boost sales if he could say that the Duke and Duchess bought one of his vehicles.”

“Ok sure, I’ll pose for photos. When do we go pick up the truck?”

“Monday.”

��Oh can I come along?” Max asks.

“No,” Drake answers.

Maxwell pouts, “But I helped pick it out. Kate wanted to get an SUV, but I convinced her that you'd rather have a big manly bruiser of a truck instead of a soccer Mom family car.”

Kate shrugs, “He’s not lying. I really had my heart set on the red Terrain instead.”

Drake sighs, “Ok fine, but you travel home with Preston in the SUV.”

..__________________________________..

tagging:

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @mskaneko @speedyoperarascalparty @dcbbw @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @pedudley @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @gardeningourmet @drakesensworld @mfackenthal @thequeenchoices @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @wickedgypsymoon @griselda1121 @indiacater @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @lynne1993 @bobasheebaby @drakesfiance @ravenpuff02 @moonlightgem7

..__________________________________..

#drake walker #drake x kate #a very valtorian christmas #long post #hana lee #maxwell beaumont

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

Strangest 2: Fractionally Gay

As Steve was laughing at Billy’s horror over the bat, his lungs starting to clench at the impossibility of explaining, the phone rang. He batted Mike aside and swung his leg over the back of the couch--any effort was worthwhile to forestall certain conversations.

“Steve,” the small voice came through raspy, and it took him a second to place it.

“Max?”

Billy’s head popped up like a meerkat’s.

“Billy ran out screaming. Lucas said I should warn you.” She gulped, difficult to understand through the rapid breathing. “You--you better call Hopper, Steve, he might--”

“He’s just sitting here drinking hot chocolate, Max,” he hurried to reassure her, wincing as Billy stumbled back over the arm of the couch towards the wall, smacking his hand down for the bat as he moved. Will kicked it out of his reach, and Billy winced as his shoulderblades thudded against the wall.

Max was breathing slowly--consciously, Steve thought, maybe he wasn’t the only one whose body had forgotten how. “He’s what,” she asked, voice flat.

“He show...he shows up here, sometimes,” he closed his eyes, feeling the Judgemental Adolescent Brigade’s attention shift from Billy to him with laser focus, “--it’s fine. I mean, he’s still an asshole, but he hasn’t done anything. He--” Steve stopped himself before telling a middle-school girl her delinquent brother’s semi-alcoholic cigarette funk was more grounding than a lightning rod. “...are you okay?”

“Me and Lucas are fine.” She swallowed hard again, and Steve waited patiently. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He might’ve...broken something. His, um. His dad said he fell down the stairs, but he’d just got in the shower. He wouldn’t be trying to get laundry or anything. He totally wanders around in his underwear if he forgets pants, Steve, he wasn’t hurrying to get anywhere,” she scoffed, and Steve frowned over to where Billy was still leaning against the wall, now casual, the bruised side of his face turned away from the room. “I think he, uh. I--I think he slammed him into a few other things. The tub makes a noise.”

“You gonna call ‘Hopper’ on me?” Billy bared his teeth, staring at the bat, and Mike crouched, reaching for it.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on, Max,” Steve pressed the phone to his chest. “Dustin. Put the bat, uh, with the skis, y’know--” He waved vaguely, hoping to convey the bat’s location to everyone but Billy. “Billy, if you’re gonna hit anything, uh. Go upstairs and punch a pillow or something. My room’s plaid.”

“So plaid,” Dustin confirmed, proud of his insider information.

“I think we should go,” Will whispered, and Mike slid an arm around him, baring his teeth right back at Billy.

“And leave him here with Steve? We should call Hopper.”

Billy snorted, but gave them a wide berth on his way to the kitchen, where he pointedly loitered for a while, reminding Steve of nothing so much as a cat who doesn’t want to admit anyone else has a good idea. The stairs creaked under his rapid footsteps as Dustin returned, then spun in place. “Where the hell is he?! Did you kill him?!”

“He went upstairs,” Will whispered back, frowning up at the sound of a creaking hallway.

“Max,” Steve tried to ignore the whispered conference behind him, “--he seems fine, but I’ll check later. Glad you have a date night, or every little shithead I know would be here. Why don’t you guys ever just show up to sell cookies?” He frowned accusingly at Mike, who frowned back.

“I just don’t want the stupid shit dying in your house,” Max grumbled, and Steve found himself grinning again into the handset.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a shovel.” He rubbed his face.

She snorted. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call Hopper? I mean he might...set you on fire, or...fuck your mom.”

“...what a resume,” Steve sighed, trying not to just sit on the floor and laugh, or possibly cry. His lungs were ready to heave, but undecided. “He’s not doing anything, yet. If he sets my mom on fire, I’ll definitely let you know.”

“Does Steve have a mom?” Steve heard Mike asking Dustin.

In his ear, Max took a shaky breath. “...okay. Okay. Are...are you sure we shouldn’t come over? I can steal my mom’s car.”

“No!” Steve barked. “No! It’s fine! You definitely don’t have to get arrested to come protect me, holy shit. Go...watch My Little Pony or something. Or hey, watch something for you, screw what Lucas wants.” That brought grins to Dustin, Mike, and Will’s faces, and he heard Max relaying it to a shouting Lucas over the phone. “Okay. I’m gonna hang up. It’s fine. If anything happens, I promise I’ll call Hopper.”

“Yeah, you better.” The connection clicked over to dial tone.

“...if we keep watching, it’ll show us how to kill the Nazgul Steve’s got in his bedroom,” Dustin sing-songed, grinning, and Steve sighed.

“Yeah. Sure. I need more--” the kettle shrieked again--Billy must have switched it on again, after Steve had chosen to busy his invaders with the microwave instead of allowing conversation. He frowned as he flicked it off, but no stairs creaked, so he figured it was to be obnoxious, rather than a need for more hot chocolate. “...I need more hot chocolate.” So did they all. Steve surveyed the Hot Chocolate Cupboard--the only cupboard he used, the only one that wasn’t a bit dusty--and couldn’t really think of much else he could buy. I could fill up the garage, he thought, thinking of the ease of routine in the grocery store, filling an entire cart with marshmallows, and the reassurance of a shelf of them every time he parked his car. I’ll have to stockpile candy canes, he thought with a snort, his intestines doing a crampy clench at the idea of running out in mid-February, and having some kind of breathing emergency that required them. They’ll find me blue in the kitchen, he muffled his snickers against the sleeve of his forearm, after I collapse because my hot chocolate isn’t right, and my lungs turn into inflexible plastic soda bottles, and Billy isn’t around to bitch about singing mice.

“...Steve?” Dustin’s voice trailed in from the front room over the sound of goblins, and Steve wiped his eyes, sniffling.

“Be right there.”

Another hour in, and Steve had jerked awake nearly every ten minutes to the sound of Dustin’s voice, so he stood, stretching. Dustin crawled forward to pause the VCR when Steve walked into the kitchen.

“Go ahead,” he leaned back into the front room, “I’m beat. I’m going to go sleep upstairs.” On his way, he refilled his hot chocolate, and grabbed another, crouching to make sure they didn’t foam up over the sides, that there were equal piles of marshmallows, and that his was actually mostly coffee.

He didn’t see the exchange of wide-eyed glances.

The lights were off in his room. The hallway light shone across Billy’s defined abs where he was sprawled across Steve’s bed. Steve kicked his way through a pile of shoes on his way to the desk lamp.

“What the hell,” Billy groaned, covering his face with his arms.

“I brought more hot chocolate, I guess,” Steve shrugged, rattling around in his desk drawers. “I told Max I’d make sure you weren’t broken anywhere, or anything.” He thumped the first aid kit on his desk. It still had smears of blood on it.

Billy snorted. “The hell did she tell you.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask about the hand-shaped bruises he’d compared to Sylvester Stallone’s, closed it again, and shrugged. “Sounds like your dad’s an asshole.” Billy flinched, then tried to cover it with a luxurious stretch.

“Breaking news.”

“Come on, sit up, dickhead, let me check out your face.”

“You just wanna check me out,” Billy bared his teeth in a wide smile, leaning in like Steve was somebody he was about to ask to Makeout Point.

“Um--” Steve leaned away so fast his head hit the wall, and Billy cackled, curling on to his side on the bed in a fit of the giggles.

“Y’don’t want a blow job, Harrington? Are you sure? You’re being awfully,” his mouth quirked into a crooked grin, “--fucking. Sweet to me. You had me wait in your bed.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his face. There was probably some scientific name for something just difficult enough to keep your mind off worse things. Nancy would know. Maybe he could switch to a different awful thing to keep the nightmares away. Alcohol would probably work, but the idea of being drunk and not noticing the motion detector lights coming on all around the house--he grabbed at the hot chocolate, slopping it on his math homework, but feeling the heat ease into his palms. The marshmallows were sweet foam, almost entirely melted, and he sipped slowly, licking the sugar off his lips. After Max’ phone call, he couldn’t just kick Billy out--That’s almost worse than the trunk, he thought, sending him back to somebody who slams his head into the side of the tub. He could put the kids in his parent’s room, he thought, then imagined them wandering off to poke Billy in the night, ending with Billy a snarling silhouette at the treeline, dragging a bleeding child away, red spray against the snow and trees, and dripping blood from his mouthful of soft belly. He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Billy had gone very still.

“...you gonna get your bat, King Steve?” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hit anybody with a nailbat,” Steve opened the first aid box, counting off breaths in his head. One one thousand, he breathed. Two one thousand. He breathed again. “Not unless you make me.”

Billy’s grin widened. “How do I make you? I could fuck Nancy. I could punch what’s his name. The kid with no teeth.”

Steve stared at him. “That’s...that’s the shit you’re gonna do?”

“Not if you tell me the rules.” Billy sat up and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“What.” Steve squinted, suddenly trying to calculate the amount of sleep he’d had recently. It wasn’t enough. He knocked back more of his ‘coffee’. “What are you talking about?”

“When,” Billy leaned in again, “--you gonna--” his breath tickled Steve’s lips, “--fuck me up, Harrington.”

“Jesus,” Steve jerked back again.

“Some blood on that bat.” Billy stretched, leaning to look out the window. “You gonna bury me out in the woods? Oh, no, I know, the sheriff’s your friend, you make it look like I drove drunk.”

“What--” Steve clenched the edge of the desk, hoping this ride slowed soon so he could get off. “...I’m not…”

“Oh, I get it now,” Billy laughed, going still again. “You killed that girl. Barb. That’s why little Nancy-Nance broke up with you.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Steve watched Billy’s legs kicking in the air as he lolled around like a happy cat, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s how you know ‘Hopper’. He helped you cover it up. Was she pregnant?” Billy cracked up, covering his face. “I thought you’d make a great dad, King Perfect, Steve Harrington, but that’s really shitty of you.” He grinned over lazily. “You’re starting earlier than mine did, did you make the bat for that, or did you already--”

Steve slammed his fist on the desk, making the light bounce and flicker. “I didn’t kill anyone. It was some--animal. It ate Dustin’s cat. Got in Will’s house. The--the little shitheads are just impressed because I babysat them while Hopper and Ms Byers set the nest on fire.”

“What, you hit some little...coyote?” Billy sat up to glare at him, all the musculature on display vibrating with tension as he leaned to breathe all over Steve’s face again, and Steve rolled backwards in the chair, sighing.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was a coyote. I’m not gonna hit you with a nailbat, jesus.”

“So when I showed up at the Byers, you were all afraid of a coyote.”

“It was scary as hell,” Steve shrugged.

“So scary you had syringes of sedative big enough to put me down. Lookee, your majesty, I’m so much bigger than a coyote.” He spread his arms, smiling. It looked uncomfortable, Steve thought, the stiff denim over all that sweaty bare shivering skin. Max’ call earlier had given Billy the added funk of adrenaline sweat over his usual eau de teenage alcoholic smoker whose shower got interrupted, and Steve tried to lean back in subtly, feeling his brain clear of blue tint.

“Look, we don’t know what it was. It ate people--”

“Who, Barb?”

“Barb! Yes! It ate Barb, that’s why no one found her!”

“Why the hell didn’t you just shoot it?”

“I don’t have a gun.” Steve rolled his eyes, inhaling the relaxing smell of stupid asshole, and feeling it work on his lungs. “‘Hey, Sheriff Hopper, I need a gun!’ I’m sure that would have worked.”

“The hell? Where was he? They just left you with the kids and went off--what was it, a bear?!”

“Sure, yeah, I guess.” Steve shrugged, rubbing his face as the adrenaline keeping him awake ebbed.

“Sure. And then you used your syringe on me.”

“Max was afraid I’d die! At least we didn’t leave you on the floor to get eaten.”

Billy stared at him. “You locked me in a trunk...to be a Good fucking Samaritan. What the hell were you supposed to do with a syringe against--a whatever, like, jump on its back?”

“Well, you knocked me out,” Steve rubbed his face, his brain going a little fuzzy as the image of Billy punching him superimposed itself over Billy sitting on the edge of his bed. “That was Max and them. You’d just tried to kill her friends, she maybe just wanted you locked up somewhere. I didn’t wake up until they were driving,” he grimaced, forcing another deep breath.

“Yeah, but, I mean--they just left you with a bat and a syringe? What the hell kind of--where are your parents? ‘Hopper’ and the Byers just leave you to defend against--things--”

He sounded as pissed off as usual, and Steve shook his head, grinning. “Pretty safe until you showed up.”

“I wasn’t gonna...fucking kill them,” Billy snorted.

“You sure? You were sure acting like it.”

“He told me to get the little bitch home, okay--”

“Leave the little assholes alone, I am not fucking around about this--” Steve’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s when the bat comes out,” Billy took a shuddering breath, rubbing his face, “--just them, huh? ‘Cause you’ve still got some greeny face there from when I clocked you in the--”

“Fuck you, and me,” Steve amended. “Me too. Goddamn. Just don’t--fucking attack people. We used the syringe, and not the bat. Look, do you want a shirt to put on.”

“Make me,” Billy grinned, but his voice was starting to sound hoarse, and his hands trembled. “Why don’t you make me, Harrington.”

“Damn iiiiit.” Steve let his head clonk against the first aid kit. “Look, you’re shaking. Are you actually hurt. Are you cold. Do you have any wounds.”

“I’m great,” Billy beamed back, eyes over-shiny in the low light, “--wanna check my teeth? They’re a little loose on the left. They’d probably come out easy. Bloody teeth all over your room.”

“Max was afraid your head hit the tub.” Steve leaned in to frown at the bruise, and Billy caught his breath.

“My--my knee. And--it’s fine. Why the hell was she listening.” His eyes were fixed on Steve’s mouth, like Steve was the biting risk.

Steve sighed with relief, spun in his desk chair, and stalked over to his dresser to throw a sweatsuit over--at first he aimed for Billy’s head, but logic happened, and he just tossed it on the bed within reach. “Do you want a shower? I mean, she said you--”

“Max should get that diarrhea of the face checked,” Billy growled.

��Or not, but they’re clean and dry.” Steve shrugged, wishing Billy and all his problems would just vanish into a nice sleep-inducing haze until morning.

After an odd moment where Billy apparently felt the need to hold up the elastic and test it, he glared over. “You gonna watch? My hot chocolate’s cold. Fix it, Mom.”

Steve blinked, then sighed, wandering back to the desk to grab both mugs. “We shower together after games, asshole. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Oh, you were looking?” Billy snarled, and Steve backed out of the room. “You eyeing me up? Wanna put your hands on me, King Harrington?”

“Just trying to pretend you were Cindy Crawford,” Steve backed through the door, sighing. “Bathroom’s through there, if you want it. I’m gonna go let the Scooby Gang know I’m alive.”

Naturally, there was a general scramble on the stairs as he turned down them. “We heard a thump...” Will watched his face nervously.

Upstairs, the shower turned on, and Steve sighed, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. “Yeah, he’s so annoying I slammed my hand on the desk. Okay, I’m not saying I like him, or want him around--”

“Psh yeah,” Dustin agreed stoutly, glaring at Mike.

Huh, Steve thought, too tired to ask. “...I need to talk to Hopper.” He leaned his face in his arms.

“I’ll call El,” Mike’s eyes narrowed, his voice ringing with judgement. After a minute or so of whispering, the plastic of the handset banged Steve in the head, and he flapped his hand for it.

“Sheriff Hopper?”

“Steve.”

“Uh, you called me before when Billy was driving around. Did his dad call you again?”

“We’ve got a report of him leaving the house drunk, disorderly, and intending mayhem,” Hopper sounded disbelieving, “--which sounds about right, for him, what you got, kid?”

“Um.” Steve felt his shoulders hunch. “He was...here, that time. He wasn’t even drunk! He was just--” he waved a hand, “--sitting on the couch. We watched Star Wars.”

“Okay,” Hopper waited, sounding even judgier than Mike.

“He just...showed up here again tonight, soaking wet and half in his jeans--”

“Ew, gross,” Dustin made a revolted face at Mike, whose nose wrinkled. Will shot a glance upstairs, wide-eyed.

“And, uh, Max called? And said Billy’s dad grabbed him out of the shower, kicked his ass. Threw him down the stairs...I guess?” he trailed off, shrugging apologetically at the phone, as Mike mouthed ‘Good,’ to nods from the other two. “He’s pretty banged up?”

“Billy Hargrove has been hiding out at your house,” Hopper said slowly, and Steve rubbed his face, groaning, and feeling like he was shrinking inches every minute this conversation continued. He’d have to see if Billy minded carting him around, once he was the size of Stuart Little. “Did he finally do something? Why own up now?”

“Well, I mean, he’s not actually doing anything? Instead of having to drive around all night looking out for him, you can just call up and ask me whether there’s an asshole here bitching about Secrets of NIMH?” Steve bit his lips, uncertain about this strange ritual of communicating with adults.

Hopper took a long whistly breath through his teeth. “Not too comfortable with him around the kids.”

“Uh, yeah, I had him go upstairs, they’re like...segregated,” Steve made an apologetic face at Will, who blinked, then shyly nodded.

After a brief pause, Hopper asked “You tell that boy what to do and he does it?”

“...mostly? I mean, he knows I know you, I think he thinks you’d help me cover up his murder?”

“Hopper would.” Dustin nodded confidently.

“...only if it were Billy Hargrove,” Mike shook his head, “--he wouldn’t let Steve murder just anybody--”

“I trust you not to murder anyone unless it’s self-defense,” Hopper sounded exhausted, but also like he might be laughing. “Call if you need anything, you know that.”

“...yeah,” Steve’s throat felt too tight to swallow.

“Night, kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah, night.” He sat listening to the dial tone, wondering what to do.

“Why do you have to harbor that fugitive,” Dustin shuddered, holding his hands up like a silent movie heroine in denial. “Couldn’t you have, like, a hot British double agent? With eleven guns, that does flips.”

“Usually it’s fine, because nobody’s here.” Steve waved his arms, sighing.

Mike and Will both frowned from his face to Dustin’s, but Dustin made a very obvious “Cut it off” motion at his neck, and they didn’t ask. Steve couldn’t help it, the idea of Dustin keeping track of his friends’ slumber party etiquette had him snickering again. “Holy god. I’m going back to bed.”

“But...Billy’s up there,” Will pointed out, and received an elbow from Mike.

“Yeah, he is. You guys can sleep down here or in the big bedroom, Dustin knows where.” Dustin nodded, obviously resisting a salute. “He’s...look, it’s fine, he...sleeps, like everybody else--”

“Is he why you haven’t been sleeping?” Will asked solemnly.

Steve snorted. “Ha. Nuh-unh. Okay, you guys have had nightmares--” Mike and Will nodded, while Dustin scoffed. “Imagine you’re--” Steve glanced at Will, trying to phrase it without pressing anywhere sore, “--somewhere in a nightmare, but something really weird walks by, something so out of place it’s funny--”

“...Clifford?” Will suggested hesitantly.

“Eugh!” Mike groaned. “I’m gonna burn that ABC book--”

“It’s really hard to focus on our game around stupid Clifford--” Dustin rolled his eyes, “--you walk into a dungeon and suddenly Mike’s mom’s voice, ‘That’s an ostrich! O! O is for Ostrich!”

“I know--” Mike groaned. “Try living there--”

“Clifford!” Steve grinned. “Exactly! That’s right. So you’re in a nightmare, and Clifford walks by. And you don’t really want Clifford around--”

“He’s annoying as hell--” Mike slumped into the other kitchen chair.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, at Will’s thoughtful expression. “He’s huge and he smells like a dog--”

“He takes huge shits,” Dustin grinned proudly.

“--but,” Steve eyeballed Will in particular, “--you can’t really be scared, either, with the Big Friendly Dog stinking up the place--’

“Billy is Clifford,” Will’s eyes widened, “--you like having him here. Even though he smells awful.”

“Yeah, well. He’s showering.” They all grimaced at the ceiling.

“I listen to music with Jonathan,” Will said softly.

Mike nodded. “I call El, or put the TV on.”

“I’m not scared,” Dustin snorted, “--but if I was, I’d call somebody, Steve, come on, pick up the phone, you don’t need a huge shitty dog.”

“Bedtime.” Steve stretched, groaning. “It’s...whatever. I don’t care.” He staggered upright, already focused on the hours of sleep he might get with Billy breathing in the same room. “I’m going to bed, to sleep, and if anyone wakes me up, there better be--” he glanced at Will again, and cleared his throat, and his head of monsters, “--a costumed supervillain, like, circling the house.”

“Nah, he’s already upstairs,” Dustin muttered, and Steve flipped him off, already running up the stairs.

As Steve frowned at the bed--it’d seemed bigger when he had a girl in it, but then, he supposed, he wasn’t wary of Nancy breaking his face if he brushed his elbow against hers in the night--Billy wandered in, sweatshirt half pulled over his head.

“Holy crap, there.” Steve stared at the purple bruising under Billy’s right shoulderblade and across his ribs, the familiar greeny-yellow handprint on his shoulder, fingermarks on his forearm, and what honestly looked like a heel-stomp on his lower back.

Billy scrambled to get the sweatshirt pulled down. “Fuck you. Go fuck yourself. King fucking Steve Harrington.”

Steve ordinarily had no trouble restraining the urge to laugh at Billy, who he mostly thought of as an unexploded bomb, but listening to his angry “fuck”s muffled through thick jersey fabric was hilarious. He forestalled it with a hand over his mouth. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” He pointed at the bed, more for his own comprehension than anyone else’s. “You can do whatever, but there’s still a whole Munchkin music number going on downstairs.”

Billy looked from his pointing finger, to the bed, back to Steve’s face. “This is an invitation to sleep in your bed.”

“I don’t care,” Steve tottered over and pulled back the covers. “Oh, I guess you could sleep in your car. I told them downstairs they could have the other bedroom or the couch, but I won’t be there to stop them bugging you, and if you murder them I’ll have to…” the pillow against his face felt like the smooth feathers of a celestial swan. “This is the best bed,” he mumbled.

“Harrington,” Billy’s voice came from somewhere off to Steve’s right. “Steve.”

“Sleeping,” Steve told him, wondering dazedly whether he’d dream about Clifford. Or Billy. Or Billy riding Clifford.

He didn’t remember what he dreamt about, jerking out of a sound sleep to a shout of his name downstairs (Dustin, probably), and the streaming light of the motion detectors. He had a vague impression of vaulting over the banister and not dying, and finding Mike and Dustin trying to jolly Will out of a panic attack.

“It’s probably just a leaf or something,” Dustin said, both thumbs up, as Steve sighed and got his bat. The VCR clock said it was four, so he’d actually gotten a few hours of sleep. He shoved his feet into his boots by the door, and stepped outside, keeping to the shadows, and shuffling, so he wouldn’t crunch loudly in the snow. The lights were scheduled for three minutes, so they flipped off soon after he began his circuit. He rested the bat against his shoulder, closing in on the sound of snow crunching.

Of course it was just Billy. Steve shuffled silently closer to the lit end of Billy’s cigarette, only to have the motion detector lights snap back on and illuminate Billy’s face from less than a foot away. Billy screamed, flailing backwards and landing on his ass in the snow, and Steve started snickering, leaning on his bat.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” Billy yelled, sounding breathless. His hair was dusted with snow, and the hoodie hood was wedged awkwardly half under the jean jacket, making him look a little less dangerous than usual. “What the hell, what in the--”

Steve considered himself, shirtless in yanked-on, unbuttoned jeans, a bloodied nailbat over his shoulder, and grinned. “I look like Conan or something.”

“You fucking asswipe, you look nuts--I thought I was gonna die--”

“The little bastards saw the motion detector come on and woke me up,” Steve shrugged, leaning on his bat again as he held a hand down for Billy, who’d landed in about two feet of snow and a patch of scrubgrass, and was stabbing his hands in the snow without finding any leverage to shove himself upright. Billy jerked back, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face. “...you’re just gonna sit there in the snow?”

Billy’s glare didn’t waver as he grabbed at the uneven grass, trying to push himself up, and Steve finally bent in close and grabbed his hand.

Billy yanked back. “--fuck go of me--”

“Come on.” Steve set the end of the bat in the snow and pushed off it to haul Billy up so chilled denim thudded against his chest.

Billy went still against him.

“Breathe,” Steve recommended, recognizing the signs of recalcitrant lungs, and brushed a hunk of snow out of Billy’s mullet. The skin under the denim collar was warm, and Steve let his half-frozen fingers linger there, breathing easily in the cloud of cigarette smoke, and the smell of his shampoo on Billy Hargrove’s mullet. It was soft, and Steve let his fingers curl in it, resting his thumb behind Billy’s ear.

“The hell are you putting your hands on me.” Billy’s breath was warm against his ear, but he didn’t pull away.

Steve considered, head clear and and nearly fizzy with the hours of sleep. In the chill of snow against his shoulders, with his hand clenched in the denim of Billy’s jacket, he felt farther away from tunneling nightmares than he had in months. Billy finally lifted his face from Steve’s shoulder enough to take another drag on his cigarette, which forced him to wrap that arm loosely around Steve’s shoulder to reach. Steve giggled, mentally cataloguing the windows probably holding small, horrified faces.

“You tell my dad I’m here and nobody’ll ever find my body,” Billy breathed smoke against his head, before pulling back enough to press his lips to Steve’s.

He has long eyelashes, Steve thought, less confident about his wakefulness than he’d been moments before, but kissing Billy’s warm mouth was weirdly cozy, and he leaned into it, feeling the bat slide from his hand. “Wait--” He clenched his fingers in the curls at the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy groaned against his mouth, eyes sliding shut. “...wow,” Steve paused, distracted by the immediate rush of red across Billy’s cheeks, but Billy ducked his head, jerking away, so Steve pulled him back with his other hand around Billy’s neck. “Wait.” He licked his lips, thinking. “That’s. Huh. We should go back inside. But your dad knows you--you’re gay?”

“I’m not a fag.” Billy jerked backwards, but didn’t try to disentangle Steve’s hands from his hair and neck. “I fuck women, Harrington-- ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you just...I mean,” Steve ran his thumbs up Billy’s cheeks, pulling him closer, fascinated at the lack of protest, “--wait, that’s why he--?” He touched the bruise carefully.

“No,” Billy growled. “I mean, I don’t know, I know mom didn’t just have a dizzy spell on the stairs, but I bet she--she wasn’t--fucking women--”

“Jesus.” Steve tugged him back in so their foreheads met, studying Billy’s closed eyes and shivers as their breath fogged. “You think your dad’s a murderer? You think he-- ”

“Shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Billy swallowed. “The hell are you gonna do. You gonna tell ‘Hopper’ I kissed you. You gonna tell my dad. Might as well kill me with that bat, Steve.” He shifted away, stilling at Steve’s hand on the back of his skull.

“No, no, jesus, calm down--” Steve pulled him close again, breathing in Essence of Hargrove in hopes his mind would stop spinning. “Fuck. Your--your dad killed your mom?”

“Dunno what the hell else coulda happened,” Billy said thickly, tense against him.

“...jesus.” Steve whispered against his jaw. “You should--you should tell Hopper. Christ. Uh, we should--we should go back inside.”

“Your three little piglets probably already called him. They’ll think I ate you out here.”

“Oh shit.” Steve grabbed Billy’s hand in one of his, scooping up the bat with the other, and began dragging him back toward the house. “How long have I been out here, they probably did--”

“What the hell, Steve, why--you’re--let go--” Billy tried to shake him off, staggering after him through the snow.

“It’s fine!” Steve shouted, stumbling over all the shoes as they tromped through the door. “This asshole was having a cigarette!” He held up his and Billy’s hands like they’d won a trophy, and Billy tried to jerk away again, snarling under his breath.

“What are you doing,” Dustin said levelly, staring between them.

Mike’s nose was wrinkled. “You can let him go now.”

Will’s red rimmed eyes traveled over Billy and fixed on their clasped hands, but he just cocked his head, raising his eyebrows at Steve, who felt his face heat.

“We’re going back to sleep--” Steve dove towards the stairs, prompting a burst of expletives from Billy, who scrambled after him.

Upstairs, Steve closed and locked his bedroom door, dropped the bat to thud against the wall, and turned to face Billy, who was shuddering at regular intervals. “Un...less you want more hot chocolate.” Steve stood back, surveying the shivers and teary eyes.

“I don’t fucking want hot chocolate, what is it with you.” Billy bared his teeth, hunching in on himself, and Steve reflected with a grin that for once, he didn’t want hot chocolate either.

Steve dropped into the office chair, letting it slowly spin him all the way around. “You kissed me.”

“Prove it in court,” Billy sighed, hugging himself in his snowy jacket.

“Come on.” Steve waved him over.

“Hell no.” Billy backed away, his shoulders hitting the wall again.

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then snorted a laugh. “Don’t make me grab your hair again.”

“Fuck you.” Billy’s eyes narrowed, but slowly traveled down Steve’s chest, over his abs, and down to his unbuttoned jeans and visible triangle of briefs. “...plaid the new thing at court? Isn’t your room enough? Look,” he rolled his shoulders, probably forgetting his borrowed saggy grey sweats were hiding his usual flexing pectorals, “--you want a blowjob? You can’t tell anyone.”

“What?” Steve blinked.

“Want my mouth on your dick?” Billy sauntered towards him. “Don’t tell my father.” He leaned in to whisper along Steve’s jaw, and Steve resisted the urge to reach down and hoist his dick out of his briefs. “Don’t tell the sheriff.” Billy dropped to his knees, mouthing down Steve’s chest. “Don’t--cave my--head in,” he went still as Steve slid a hand in his hair. “Don’t crush my eyeballs with a nailbat, and I’ll blow you.”

“Wait,” Steve groaned, tugging to detach Billy’s warm, soft mouth from the edge of his jeans. “Damn it. Billy, hold on--”

“The hell is wrong with you, Harrington?” Billy sat back on his feet, eyebrows raised. “Close your eyes if you want, I don’t care--”

“I just--” Steve ran his fingers along Billy’s jaw, losing his train of thought as Billy tipped his head willingly.

“You wanna hit me and have me?” Billy laughed, turning his head to bite gently at Steve’s hand. “I’m hot with bruises. Gimme a bloody nose, kiss off your daily iron allowance, your majesty.”

“No. No.” Steve clenched his fingers in the silky hair at the back of Billy’s head again, feeling him sag. He was careful not to yank individual strands.

“Don’t tell anyone, though. Hit me, don’t kill me--” Billy pulled Steve’s thumb in his mouth with his tongue, sucking suggestively, but his eyes were getting shiny again. “Come on. You don’t really wanna haul me out of another trunk.”

“Jesus, Hargrove,” Steve yanked his hand away from Billy’s mouth, “--I won’t tell anyone you’re--I mean, that we’re--what are we even doing.” For the first time, his lungs started to feel stiff even with Billy Hargrove right in front of him. He forced some small, shallow breaths, watching Billy’s eyes start to brim over. He put the hand not holding Billy’s hair over his mouth to forestall what was probably about to be another flood of abuse, and took another breath. One one thousand, he counted to himself, holding it and letting it out. “You--you’re a fuckhead,” he started again, feeling Billy laugh against his hand. “Look, I’m not gonna--if you get up right now, I won’t tell anyone, and I won’t--hit you, or anything. If you wanna be there, that’s--that’s good too. But. I won’t tell anyone.”

Billy shook his head, trying to get away from Steve’s hand over his mouth--since Steve hadn’t moved when he licked it--and Steve lowered it, narrowing his eyes. Billy cleared his throat. “What’s the point, then?”

Steve flailed his free hand. “It was your idea!”

“I like women,” Billy bared his teeth, “--you’re just gonna shut your eyes anyway.”

“What, you want me to stare at you?” Steve pressed his licked thumb to Billy’s lower lip. He’d tasted like cigarettes and chocolate.

“I don’t fucking want anything.” Billy let his eyes slide closed, pressing his face into the seam of Steve’s jeans. “Neither of us are fucking...queers.”

Steve wondered, in passing, whether he wanted more of a sexual buffet table than he’d suspected. It makes sense, he thought, one hand in Billy’s hair, the other satisfying various curiosities about Billy’s ear piercing, the texture of his stubble, and the heat coming up in his cheeks. Nobody wants the same thing forever, right? He leaned in again, kissing Billy Hargrove, and huffing a laugh of disbelief. Billy flinched back, eyes blinking wide.

“You gotta lay off the little shitheads,” Steve remembered to say, pulling back. Billy’s mouth quirked, and Steve kissed it again, tugging at Billy’s lower lip and its edge of stubble with his teeth. Billy moaned into his mouth, and Steve grabbed the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer--not that there was much closer for him to be.

“I don’t give a shit about them,” Billy panted against his mouth.

“I ended up with them somehow, you need to be...okay with them, if you can be nice to people without...taking your pants off,” Steve pressed lightly on Billy’s unbruised cheek with his thumb, and Billy obediently opened his mouth. He still tasted better than Steve would have expected, his mouth warm and smoky, and his body ever more pliable as Steve held him firmly by the hair.

“Being nice right now,” Billy whispered back, and Steve snorted, pulling him into another kiss. The left side of Billy’s mouth tasted coppery, and his soft groan turned into more of a pained whine, but he slid his arms around Steve’s neck to stop him from pulling away.

“God,” Steve tucked his face against Billy’s other cheek, breathing him in, “--you--you gotta promise, though. If you’re about to lose your shit at a kid, walk away.”

“I wouldn’t really,” Billy laughed, pulling his arms back to fumble at Steve’s pants. Steve grabbed his hands.

“Billy.”

“I won’t,” he shoved away to stomp over against the wall, “--the hell is this, Harrington, some kinda trap. Fuck you.”

“Nooooo,” Steve said slowly, feeling whiplash, “--that was…” He felt his cheeks flush. “That was good. You should come back over here.”

“Why the hell would I.” Billy rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck menacingly, but wandered a few feet closer. “What if one of your spawn calls the sheriff. He’ll show up and shoot me in the head.”

“Oh! I called him,” Steve blinked, “--while you were in the shower--” he cut off at Billy’s soft choking noise.

“He’s not here, what, he’s just waiting for me at home, then--” His voice had gone high and wet.

“What?”

“He’s gonna know, Harrington, he’s gonna--god, fuck you, he’s gonna nail me to a fucking fence--” He scrambled over to reach for the bat, and Steve put all his basketball lessons in interference into preventing him from reaching it, finally hugging Billy’s arms to his body.

“Sshhhh,” he tried, unable to think of anything else. “Shhh, Billy. I called Hopper. I told him your dad was a liar. I told him we watched Star Wars. He’s not coming. He’s not telling your dad.”

“Fuck you--” Billy’s voice shook.

Steve rocked them back and forth, hugging him tighter, and Billy snorted into his shoulder. “Lemme go.”

“Not sure I should,” Steve breathed against his neck.

“This is so gay,” Billy groaned.

“I think we’re both maybe half gay, though.” Steve loosened his grip, sliding his hand up to stroke his thumb against the base of Billy’s skull, and Billy shuddered, snorting a laugh.

“Fags come in fractions?”

“Maybe.”

Billy took a deep breath, tickling Steve’s ear. “...maybe you’re a moron.”

Steve slid his other hand under the denim jacket and old sweatshirt, running the flat of his hand up and down Billy’s back.

“Maybe,” Billy whispered in his ear.

(I think Tumblr ate my first three chapter posts, so I’m redoing them?!) Strangest chapter 1/chapter 2/chapter 3/chapter 4/chapter 5/chapter 6/chapter 7/chapter 8/chapter 9/chapter 10/ But really I’d recommend reading it on Ao3 under peterqpan, scrolling through it on Tumblr sounds crazymaking

#harringrove #platypan #platypan fic #strangest #Billy's a mess #Steve is also a mess #They're messy together #Also dorks

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sunriserose1023 · 5 years

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Burden of Proof (1)

WORD COUNT: 5340 WARNINGS: THIS IS AN AU; mentions of past domestic violence/abuse, divorce, poverty, hunger, lawyers, bounty hunter, high school flashback, police, blood, murder mystery, death, arrest AUTHOR’S NOTE: This little project was inspired by this anonymous ask: Hello SunriseRose, I don't know if you take requests but I was wondering if I could make one StevexReader as I love your Modern AUs. One where Steve is always a former captain and an artist but also a famous public defender and has to defend the reader, who is the love of his life he hasn't seen in years, because she was wrongly accused and he's all protective but has to be professional and she still loves him. Now, I almost didn’t write this, because the ask reminded me a lot of @captain-rogers-beard‘s Just Desserts series. I didn’t want Mimi to think I was trying to copy her, but I talked with her and she gave me the go-ahead. Which I’m so grateful for, because my muse just would not let this go. So, I hope you guys enjoy!

MASTERLIST

You set your bag on the rickety table in the corner of your tiny apartment, wincing as you toed your shoes off. You groaned when your socked feet touched the carpet and you yawned, stretching your arms over your head. Your stomach growled, reminding you that you’d forgotten to take Wanda up on her offer to have Vis cook you something before you left the diner.

Maybe tomorrow.

You untied the apron from around your waist, folding it and setting it beside your bag on the table. You shook your head and put the apron in your bag, to ensure that you wouldn’t forget it. You made your way to the fold-out sofa you slept on and sighed, making a mental note to see if Wanda could trade you some quarters for a few dollars so you could do some laundry.

You made your way to the tiny bathroom, washing your face and hands before you looked at yourself in the dirty mirror. No matter how much you’d scrubbed—even borrowing cleaning supplies from the diner—the mirror was filthy. The whole place had been filthy, but you’d scrubbed until your fingers bled, painstakingly making your shoebox apartment into a space you were semi-proud of.

Well... You were proud it was clean. You wouldn’t be inviting anyone over anytime soon, but it’s not like you had any friends to invite. Except for Wanda, who was a Godsend. She was the only one who’d stood beside you through the farce of your divorce, the one who’d offered you a job when you didn’t have any options, the one who’d given you a place to stay until you got back on your feet. She hated that you lived in this rundown building on the wrong side of town, but it was all you could afford, and she and Vis deserved a place to themselves.

You yawned and stepped away from the mirror, unzipping the gray dress you wore as your work uniform and hanging it over the shower rod. The apartment was too small for a closet. It practically was the size of a closet. You had a couple of boxes that held your clothes—the few you’d bought at the local Goodwill, the few Wanda had collected and washed for you. There wasn’t room in your place to put a dresser—or much at all—and you had more important things to put your money towards than furniture.

Like the massive attorney and court fees for both you and your ex. He had plenty of money to pay his own fees—and yours too, and not even blink an eye—but that’s not what the judge had ruled. No, the judge had piled the blame on you, despite the mountain of evidence that Brock had cheated on and abused you, thereby nullifying the pre-nup he’d insisted you sign just before the wedding. You’d known the judge would do just that, since Alexander Pierce had always attended the dinner parties Brock had made you host, along with playing golf with Brock every Tuesday. You’d tried to get him recused from the trial, but Pierce—and Brock—had many friends in high places.

So that was how you found yourself at rock bottom, in an apartment even the roaches turned up their noses at, with an aching stomach and no food in the refrigerator. Well … if you’d even been able to afford a fridge.

You dug through one of the boxes and found an oversized t-shirt, one that advertised the annual Stark Expo from 2010. You pulled it on and smiled as you ran your hand over the faded picture on the front and sighed, pulling the blanket back and crawling onto the lumpy sofa bed. You stared up at the ceiling, until your eyes got too heavy to keep them open. You sighed, your last thought hoping that you’d be able to sleep this one night without dreaming.

Steve took a sip of the bourbon, exhaling as he stared out the window at the lights of the city.

“Got him.”

Steve raised an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder. Bucky smiled at him, plopping himself on Steve’s plush couch, kicking his booted feet up onto the coffee table and crossing his ankles. Steve exhaled and pointed at Bucky’s feet, but Bucky just shrugged.

“Who, you ask? That little rat bastard that jumped bail.” “Not—“ “Yep. Jasper Sitwell. God, even his name gives me chills.”

Steve glanced into his glass, speaking before he took a drink.

“He wasn’t one of mine.” “Nah, he was Rumlow’s. That bastard sold his soul a long time ago to be defending creeps like Sitwell.” “Where’d you find him?”

Bucky grinned.

“The Jersey Shore. He was meeting up with who he thought was an underage hooker.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. Bucky just shrugged.

“Can’t help it if Michelle looks younger than she actually is.” “Michelle? Not Peter’s Michelle.” “The one and only MJ. She’s completely legal, Stevie. In the academy now, unfortunately.”

Steve smiled.

“Just because the NYPD wouldn’t take you—“ “The hell they wouldn’t!”

Steve chuckled, finishing off his glass of bourbon. Bucky sighed, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sitwell tries to call you to defend him.”

Steve glanced into his glass and shook his head.

“He can try.”

Bucky smiled again.

“There’s my guy.”

Steve rolled his eyes, walking towards the liquor cart, ignoring the blue eyes watching his every move until the silence grew too loud.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to go check on?” “Eh, Clint’s got a big project coming up at work and I’m just in the way.”

Steve shook his head.

“So you’ll let Clint work in peace, but you come over to annoy the piss out of me?” “Well, you don’t give me sex on the regular, so…”

Steve made a gagging noise that made Bucky laugh. After a moment of silence, Bucky spoke again.

“I noticed what tomorrow was, and I wanted to come check on you.”

Steve exhaled, setting the glass down on the cart and uncapping the bourbon.

“I’m fine, Buck.” “How much of that have you been through?”

Steve sighed.

“Half a bottle. But it doesn’t affect me.” “I know.”

Steve ran a hand over his face and Bucky stood up, walking over and standing just over Steve’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault.” “I know it wasn’t.” “Do you?”

Steve closed his eyes, setting the bottle down on the cart before his hands started to shake.

“I gave the order.”

Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, but Bucky heard it anyway.

“We didn’t have to go. We chose to, Cap.”

Steve shook his head and Bucky stepped forward to grip Steve’s shoulder.

“Sam would kick your ass if he could see you acting like this.”

Steve gave a ragged exhale.

“Well, he’s not here to see it, is he?” “Don’t try and pick a fight with me.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and Bucky made him turn around, wrapping him in a hug. Steve put his face in Bucky’s shoulder, soaking in his strength until he could breathe again. He nodded, patting Bucky on the back before he straightened and stepped away from him.

“I’ll be okay. I just … every year, I can’t help but think about him, what he’d be doing.” “I’ll tell you exactly what he’d be doing. He’d be right here with us.”

Steve smiled as he met Bucky’s eyes.

“With me or with you?” “Well, Sam was excellent at straddling the fence. He’d do some legal stuff with you, but I figure he’d spend a fair amount of time on the less than legal side with me.”

Steve laughed at the grin on Bucky’s face, then nodded.

“You’re right.” “I know I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes and Bucky tilted his head.

“Want to crash with Clint and me tonight?”

Steve shook his head.

“Nah, I’m fine.” “You gonna call Nat?” “For what?”

Bucky grimaced.

“If you have to ask that question, you definitely need to call her.” “Oh my go—Bucky!”

Bucky cackled as Steve shook his head.

“We don’t do that anymore.” “Right, right. That was a one-time booty call.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and Steve punched him in his shoulder.

“It wasn’t a one-time thing, but we’re just better off …” “Not mixing business and pleasure?” “Yes, you ass.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head as he raised his hands.

“All right, fine. Whatever you say. I do think it wouldn’t kill you to get laid, but you do you. Oh, wait. Ew. Don’t actually—“ “Stop talking.”

Bucky nodded, closing his mouth. Steve shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. Bucky reached out and squeezed Steve’s shoulder.

“If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.” “I will. Thanks, man.”

Bucky nodded, squeezing Steve’s shoulder once more before he turned and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he waited on the elevator.

When he was gone, Steve sighed. He made a face when he lifted his hand and turned to walk through his penthouse back to his bedroom. He slid the jacket off his shoulders, removing the cuff links from his sleeves before he loosened the tie around his neck.

He hadn’t even bothered to get comfortable when he’d left the office. He’d just gone straight for the liquor cabinet.

He sighed, shaking his head to try and clear it of the thoughts that plagued him. He dropped the tie in the hamper, then unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on top of the tie. He sat on the bench of the vanity—wondering yet again why he had a vanity with a bench seat in his bathroom—untying his shoes and tossing them out into the bedroom. He dropped his socks and slacks in the hamper, walking into the bedroom in his boxer-briefs. He took in a breath and let it out slowly as he climbed into the California King, moving a hand behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

He was exhausted, but he knew as soon as he closed his eyes, he’d be back in Afghanistan. He’d be back to that day, when he gave the order, when Bucky nearly lost his arm and Sam lost his life. He braced himself as best he could, finally giving in to the exhaustion, body going slack as he drifted to sleep.

“Here, taste this.” “I’d much rather taste—mmph.”

Steve took a bite before the cupcake was shoved into his face, chewing as he listened to the quiet giggle. He nodded, swallowing and meeting her eyes.

“That’s delicious.” “Lemon cake with raspberry frosting.” “Little sweet, little tart. Like you.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the cupcakes you were frosting, smiling when Steve’s hands slid over your hips, his warm chest pressing against your back. He started kissing your neck and you sighed, leaning back into him.

“My parents will be home soon.” “Guess we better get it in quick, then.”

You laughed, shaking your head and leaning forward, forcing him backwards.

“Come on, baby.” “I have got to frost these.” “But we—“ “Can sneak away later. I’ve got to get these ready and delivered before it gets too late.”

Steve groaned and you turned to face him, a cupcake in your hand, frosting it as you spoke.

“I promise I will make it worth your while if you can help me pack these up and deliver them.” “Who’re they for?” “Wanda’s mom for her open house.”

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his hair.

“I’ll let you touch my boobs.” “Sold.”

You laughed, setting the cupcake in the box you’d been packing up, closing the lid and walking to him, looping your arms around his neck. You closed your eyes and shivered when his big hands slid up and down your sides, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, speaking softly.

“I love you.”

Steve smiled as you went on kissing him, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“I love you.”

He broke the kiss, smiling down at you.

“Whoever would have thought I’d fall in love with my tutor?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, shut up.” “Just imagine if I’d have been good at English. We may never have met.” “Oh, we’d have met, Mr. Quarterback. You just wouldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You squealed as he gathered you up into his arms.

“Guess I’ll just thank my lucky stars, then.”

Steve sat at his desk, twirling a pen between two fingers, absently swaying his chair back and forth. He glanced over at the knock on his door and a smile spread over his lips.

“Hey, you.”

Natasha smiled.

“Hey, back.”

Natasha walked into the room, looking effortlessly gorgeous in her simple navy blue dress. Her fiery hair was curling gently around her face and she moved with grace, despite the sky-high heels she wore. She took a seat in the chair in front of Steve’s desk, crossing her legs.

“What’s on your mind?”

Steve pursed his lips and shook his head and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You’ve got this pensive look on your face. What’s up?”

Steve sighed, turning his head and glancing out the window.

“Do you have a one that got away?” “Doesn’t everyone?”

Steve smiled at that, flicking his eyes back to hers. Natasha smirked at him, shaking her head.

“That’s for me to know and keep as my secret.”

Steve nodded, and after a moment of quiet, she spoke again.

“What about you?”

Steve nodded again, staring at the pen in his hands.

“High school sweetheart.” “Did you love her?”

Steve nodded, rubbing a hand over his chin.

“She was my first love. My first … everything.”

Steve bit his tongue as he ran his fingers over his lips.

“I haven’t thought about her in years, but I dreamed about her last night.” “What was the dream?”

Steve shook his head.

“Nothing, really. She was baking; she was always baking something. She was incredible at it. And I was just there, nagging her like I always did.”

Steve shook his head again.

“It wasn’t anything special, but looking back …” “All those seemingly ‘nothing special’ moments end up being everything.”

Steve met her eyes, and she smirked at him again.

“So you’re in here, drowning in nostalgia while we’re all working our asses off.”

Steve chuckled under his breath.

“Our case load is pretty light at the moment. Want me to go stir us up some business?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Please. Just one glimpse of you in the Times or on any of the news channels gets our ‘case load’ going. Everyone wants to be defended by America’s sweetheart.”

Steve laughed out loud, shaking his head.

“America’s sweetheart. That’s a good one.” “Where is the lie?”

He shook his head again, a smile on his face.

“Go bother someone else. I’m sure Peter would love a visit with the Black Widow.”

Natasha’s eyes widened and Steve shrugged.

“You got a nickname for me, I got one for you.” “A couple little divorce settlements and I’m a deadly spider?” “Little settlements? Nat, you drained the men for everything they had and money they hadn’t even made yet.”

Natasha smiled, shrugging her shoulders.

“They deserved it.”

Steve nodded, a smile on his face.

“I’m just glad to be on your team.” “And don’t you forget it.”

Natasha put both feet on the floor and leaned over in the chair.

“But I do have one thing I’d like your professional opinion on.” “Hit me.”

You set the plates you’d been carrying into the soapy dishwater and made a face as you rubbed your left wrist. You’d found that in working this job, old injuries liked to make themselves known, as if the throb of pain was a reminder of everything you’d been through. You closed your eyes as your fingers massaged your wrist, trying to block out the memory of Brock’s hands coming at you, the feel of the marble floor as you were thrown onto it, the snap of the bone as your wrist broke—

“Y/N?”

You opened your eyes to see Vis standing at the stove, glancing over his shoulder at you. He raised an eyebrow over his glasses when you looked to him and you shook your head, dropping your hands, pushing a smile onto your face.

“If one more dirty old man smacks my ass, I swear...”

Vis gave a laugh, shaking his head, turning back to the stove.

“You’re still shiny and new to them. Wanda’s threatened to break all their fingers at least once.” “What is it about men? Why do you like it when we’re mean to you?”

Vis raised his hands, then sighed.

“I already hate myself for this, but not all men …”

You laughed, and he smiled. He nodded his head towards the front counter.

“Wanda’s counting up the register if you’re ready.”

You nodded and walked through the kitchen doors and Wanda smiled when she lifted her head and saw you.

“Hello, lovely.”

You smiled, pulling your tips out of your apron.

“Hello. Can you spare some quarters? I’ve got to do laundry before you fire me for indecent exposure.”

Wanda laughed, pulling a roll of quarters from her bank bag.

“No worries, love. Now, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but the less laundry you do, the more tips you may get.”

You shook your head, a smile on your lips and a flush in your cheeks. Wanda bumped your shoulder with her own and nodded towards the kitchen.

“I put an order in for you and me a couple of Vis’ juicy burgers.” “Ah, sounds great. Want to take it out of—“ “Don’t finish that sentence. You work doubles every day. The least we can do is feed you.”

You nodded, hoping your face didn’t give away the relief that was all but seeping from your pores. Wanda counted out your tips and exchanged your ones for bigger bills, and you smiled when you slipped the money into your apron pocket.

“Not too shabby tonight.”

You shook your head.

“Not bad at all.” “You okay?”

You met Wanda’s gaze and sighed. You nodded.

“I’m fine, just …” “What?”

You tapped your fingers on the counter, watching Wanda count the money. She flicked her eyes towards you and smiled.

“I can multitask, you know.”

You smiled.

“Do you remember Steve Rogers?” “Love of your life Steve Rogers?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Wanda.” “Sorry, were you not there in high school?” “That’s exactly my point. It was high school. Nobody finds the love of their life in high school.” “Lies. What about Nathan and Haley?”

You laughed.

“Wanda, they aren’t real people. That’s a TV show.” “Yeah, but it’s pretty true to life. Don’t start with me.”

You giggled, shaking your head. She shut the cash register and turned to face you.

“Why are you thinking about Steve?” “I have no idea. I haven’t thought about him for years, but I dreamed about him last night.” “Seriously?”

You nodded, and Wanda leaned closer.

“Sexy dream?” “Stop it.”

You smacked her shoulder and she laughed.

“What was the dream about?”

You shook your head.

“Nothing special. I was making cupcakes for one of your mom’s open houses.” “Oh, I forgot about how much you loved to bake.”

You smiled sadly, glancing towards the kitchen.

“I haven’t done it in so long.” “Really?”

You nodded, that uneasy feeling you’d grown accustomed to making itself known in your gut.

“Brock was so … consumed with his appearance. I made him a pie one time and he completely freaked out. Said I wanted to make him fat, and then no one would take him seriously and he’d lose his job, and it would be all my fault.”

You left out the part about the bruise on your hip that stayed there for months after he threw you across the room. You shrugged, shifting your weight, ignoring the phantom pain in your leg.

“After that, I stopped baking altogether. I tried to focus on healthy food until he hired the nutritionist/chef.”

Wanda blew out a breath, leaning in and hugging you. It jolted you at first, the gentleness of her touch, the easy way she showed affection. You still weren’t used to human contact in a non-harmful capacity, but you relaxed into her touch as Wanda stroked your hair.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” “Wanda, it’s okay. It’s over now.” “Thank God.”

She leaned back, taking hold of your arms and staring into your eyes.

“He’s never going to hurt you again.”

You nodded, making yourself smile. Wanda nodded back at you, giving your arms a gentle squeeze.

“So tell me more about this dream.”

You shrugged, walking around the counter to sit at one of the stools.

“There’s not much to tell. I was baking, he was bothering me, like he always did.”

You smiled, then sighed.

“It was nothing, but everything all at the same time. It was one of the last times we were together, one of the last times I ever felt … happy.” “Why are you dreaming about it now?” “That’s the question on my mind, too. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to feel happy again?”

You and Wanda turned at the sound of the bell in the kitchen window. Two plates of burgers and fries appeared a second before Vis poked his head through the window and smiled.

“Order up, ladies.”

After you sat at the bar and devoured the burger Vis had made for you, you swept the floor. Wanda, despite your protests, insisted on mopping, and she would periodically hop across the wet floor to take a bite of her own burger. That only happened twice before Vis walked out of the kitchen, taking the mop from her hands and dropping a kiss to her mouth, ushering her to the seat beside you. When she’d taken a huge bite and was working on chewing it, you nodded towards the man pushing the mop around.

“He’s a good one.”

Wanda smiled as she nodded, glancing over her shoulder at him. She was still smiling when she looked back to you and she shrugged.

“He is. I know he’s a bit older than me, but … I’m happy with him. He makes me feel safe. Not to mention what an amazing cook he is.”

You gave a soft chuckle, taking a bite of one of the fries left on your plate.

“I don’t know what that’s like.” “What?” “Feeling safe.” “Oh, honey.” “No, it … it’s okay.”

You reached over and laid a hand on Wanda’s arm.

“I was under Brock’s thumb for a long time. Now I can see what that meant. What he did to me. But it’s over now. I’m still picking myself up and dusting myself off, but I’m here, and not with him. He’s Maria’s problem now.” “Better her than you.” “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

You lifted your water glass, clinking it against Wanda’s. You took a sip as the phone started to ring, and Wanda made a face before she leaned over the counter to answer it.

“Thanks for calling The … May I ask who’s calling?”

She made a face, covering the mouthpiece of the phone and meeting your eyes.

“It’s Maria Hill. She wants to talk to you.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open before you nodded. Wanda handed you the phone and you straightened your shoulders, trying to prepare yourself to talk to the woman you once considered your best friend.

“He—Hello?” “Y/N, it’s Maria. Look, I have a few of your things put aside that I think you’d like to have.”

You blinked again. That was not what you were expecting to hear.

“Really?” “Yes. If you could run by here, you can get it. Brock’s working late tonight and this might be your only chance.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I … I’ll be right there.” “The door’s unlocked. Just come on in.”

The dial tone sounded in your ear and you blinked before handing the phone back to Wanda. She set the phone in the holder, then spoke softly.

“What is it?” “Maria said she put some of my stuff aside and I can come get it.” “Really?”

You nodded.

“I thought Brock threw all of my stuff away.” “Guess not. What do you think it is?”

You shrugged.

“Maybe some clothes. Or maybe some pictures. A few of those little knick-knacks that were my mom’s?”

Wanda nodded.

“Let’s go.” “Oh, I can’t ask you to—“ “You didn’t. But I can’t let you take a bus over there this time of night.”

You sighed.

“No, it would be better if I went alone, I think.” “What if Brock’s there?”

You shook your head.

“Maria said he’s working late. That means he won’t get in until sunrise, if he doesn’t just sleep in his office.”

Wanda bit her bottom lip, then shook her head.

“Let Vis and me drive you. He won’t mind.”

You smiled, reaching over and gripping her hand.

“Wanda, I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll call you just before I leave there.”

She sighed.

“I really wish you’d let me get you a phone.” “Wanda—“ “It’s just so convenient! And you can pay me back whenever. No rush.”

You exhaled.

“I’ll think about it.”

She smiled.

“Plus, it would give me peace of mind whenever you’re in that rat-trap apartment you stay in.”

You laughed.

“It’s not that bad.” “Don’t lie, baby girl.”

You finished off your water, setting it on your empty plate. Wanda waved you off when you tried to take the plate into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of it. Just be careful.” “I will.”

You leaned over and kissed Wanda’s cheek, then gathered your stuff together. You waved to Vis and walked across the street to the bus stop, sitting on a bench and smiling as you looked down at your hands.

You stared up at the front door of the house you used to live in, taken aback again at how big everything was. It was too much space for just you and Brock.

But then again, your marriage was hardly ever just you and Brock.

You shook your head and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

“Maria? It’s Y/N.”

You didn’t hear anything, and you closed the door behind you. You walked around the first floor, but your search for Maria and/or your things came up empty. You made your way up the marble staircase, going for the library that Brock had turned into an office. You’d always loved the library, and as soon as Brock kicked you out, he renovated it.

The door was closed and you knocked twice.

“Maria? Are you in here?”

No answer and you sighed. You should have asked her where she put your things, instead of just barging in like this. You had a feeling that what you were looking for was behind this door, because Maria had known how much you loved the room. You knocked again, then turned the knob. The room was dark, and you patted your hand over the wall, making a face when you felt something wet against your hand before you found the light switch.

Your mouth dropped open and your blood ran cold at the sight in front of you. Every surface was splattered with varying shades of red, the pristine white carpet was soaked a dark maroon, and just a few feet away from you in an office chair, eyes glazed over and staring at nothing, was your ex-husband with a jagged cut across his throat that was still oozing blood.

Brock was dead.

You started to cover your mouth with your hand, glancing down and seeing the blood on your palm, looking up and seeing a smear from where you’d turned the light on. You pressed your lips together and staggered out the door, turning your back to the gruesome sight and urging yourself not to vomit. You stopped when you reached the stairs, breathing a breath of relief when you saw the policeman a few steps below you, gun raised.

“Thank God. I don’t know what—“ “Don’t move.”

He spoke calmly and clearly, with authority. You went still and he slowly nodded.

“Raise your hands in the air. Keep them where I can see them.”

You did as he asked, shaking your head.

“I just got here. My friend said the door was open and—“ “It’s in your best interest to stop talking right now.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you shook your head as he kept his gun trained on you, turning his head to speak into his shoulder.

“This is Officer Rollins, requesting backup at—“

His voice suddenly went fuzzy as he repeated your former address. You shook your head, feeling your legs start to grow weak.

“I—I’m sorry, what—“ “I thought I told you to stop talking.”

You nodded, glancing around.

“Ca—can I just—“ “Don’t move!”

You flinched at his harsh tone, closing your eyes. You tried to take in a deep breath, but panic was wrapping itself around your body, slowly squeezing. Your eyes flew open at the next words from the officer’s mouth.

“We received a call that there had been a murder at this residence.”

You nodded.

“I j—just found him.” “Oh really? Then how’d you get blood on your hands?”

You glanced at the hand you had raised by your head, your voice coming out as barely a whisper.

“I just turned the lights on.”

The man shook his head, eyes cold, gun still trained at your chest. You could feel your body begin to tremble and you spoke as calmly as you could.

“I need to sit down, please.” “Don’t fucking move or I swear I’ll shoot.”

Tears came to your eyes and you shook your head.

“I just—“ “Didn’t I tell you to stop talking? Shut the hell up!”

You let out a sob, gasping as the house was suddenly flooded with police officers and a S.W.A.T. team. You flinched as officers flew by you, doing your best to stay still and calm as voices overlapped and chaos ensued. You closed your eyes and tried to breathe, eyes flying open when your arms were suddenly wrenched behind your back. You yelped as handcuffs were placed around your wrists, tightened so tightly the metal bit into your skin. You tried to look back, to see who was touching you, but you were pushed forward. A pair of arms righted you when you slipped, gasping at the thought that you were going to fall down the marble stairs. You were pushed forward again, but this time, you took a step, forcing your panicked mind to focus on getting down the stairs in one piece. The blood was rushing in your ears, blocking out all sounds, until you were outside.

You squinted your eyes at the brightness of the flashing blue lights of the police cars lining the street and the driveway. You continued to walk forward, shaking your head as you grew closer to one of the patrol cars, as your brain finally registered that the person behind you was speaking.

“Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?” “What?” “Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

You shook your head, turning to look at the officer behind you. She was a woman close to your age, blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. The golden nameplate on her chest read S. Carter. You felt like everything was moving in slow motion as you shook your head again.

“What’s going on?” “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You shook your head and she narrowed her eyes.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Brock Rumlow.”

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