#the first row i'd wed and take to bed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anonymous-dentist · 1 month

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Or: Once upon a time, a man turned himself into a demon for the sake of his husband's soul. It's been a long time since then.

Demons don't really need to sleep, but Roier likes to do it, anyway. It's relaxing, and it reminds him of better times back when he was human and his husband wasn't... well.

Well.

Jaiden doesn't get it, but that's because she's never known what dreams are. Because demons don't sleep and, unlike Roier, she was born a demon. Her and Bobby both were, leaving Roier as the odd one out.

...That's fine! Their loss! Because sleep? Great. Dreams? Even better.

Because, in Roier's dreams, he sees him.

(They're in bed, because that was Roier's favorite place to be. He's on his back with his husband laying next to him tracing patterns into his shirt with one finger. Rain patters on the ceiling, and some leaks through into the kitchen and lands in a pot placed conspicuously in the middle of the floor. Their blankets are warm, and so are their hearts.)

Roier has been married for almost 500 years. His husband has been dead for 499 of those years, give or take a few months.

They were never legally married; that just wasn't something you did back then. Didn't matter, though, because they wouldn't have been able to afford a wedding even if they could get married.

They were farmers- well, Roier was a farmer. His husband just liked sitting and watching Roier work shirtless in the fields. He'd sit with a pitcher of water waiting by his side should Roier need it, and he'd watch shamelessly for hours at a time, and he was horrible.

And now he's dead.

But, see, the first thing Roier asked when arriving in Hell was whether or not the Devil was cool with gay marriage.

"Uh," said Jaiden- and this was their first real conversation post-demoning, okay? So she obviously wasn't as cool as she is now. "Maybe? I don't know. I'd have to ask?"

"Could you?" Roier had asked, freshly deceased and still bleeding from the temples where his horns had just finished growing in. "I'm expecting my husband."

"Right," Jaiden tensely replied. "Your husband."

"Yeah," Roier said, and he tried saying his husband's name, but it just. Wouldn't... what was it again?

But that's fine, being a demon is a pretty sweet gig. All Roier has to do is go up to the Mortal Realm and do a few jobs for a few witches, corrupt a few souls. In return, he gets badass magical abilities and immortality.

More importantly, he gets his husband's soul. As soon as he reincarnates back in the Mortal Realm, and as soon as he dies again, he goes to Hell with all of the memories from his previous life with Roier intact, and they finally get their happily ever after.

It's what he would've wanted. Hell might sound terrible, but it's no worse than the Mortal Realm, and its public transportation is actually better, somehow. The busses all run on time, and the subway is free.

More importantly, Roier's husband was the one collecting all those books on summoning demons and making deals with demons and communing with the Devil. Roier just... completed his work for him.

It's the least he could've done, and it was his last chance at seeing him again.

Fuck, but what was his name?

(They're in the fields, because that was Roier's husband's favorite place to be. Roier is shirtless and bent over a row of seeds that are going to grow up to be corn in a few months, and his husband is on the ground under the apple tree watching him shamelessly. It's sunny out, and there's the smell of smoke in the air.)

It's been 500 years since Roier's husband died, and Roier has spent that time trying to remember the name of his husband's killer.

Because, once upon a time, there was a farmer, and there was a witch. Ah, but witches were illegal, you see. They communed with the Devil, and they brought chaos into a world of order.

All Roier remembers is that the person who tied his husband to that pole was in all-white. Not a priest, just someone boring.

That same person was the one who lit the straw at Roier's husband's feet on fire. And they smiled doing so even as Roier dove towards the flames as if he could put them out with his bare hands.

It didn't work. Big surprise there.

"So the Devil's fine with you two getting married," Jaiden said after a few days of dealing with demonic bureaucracy, "but I have some bad news for you."

Roier, for the first time since Jaiden slit his throat and converted him, felt fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

She let out a breath, slow, and said, eventually, "Your husband's soul isn't here. He isn't in Heaven, either. Or in any of the other gods' realms."

Roier blinked. "What."

It was not a question.

She threw up her hands. "I don't know! It's like he just... disappeared!"

"Is that why I can't remember his name?" Roier asked. "His soul is fucking gone?"

His hands shook. Jaiden reached out and took them.

"We'll find him," she promised, kind despite her whole 'Is A Demon' thing. "Even if it takes five hundred years."

"Yeah, well, it won't," he scoffed. "I'm going to find him. He promised me a wedding."

Souls don't just die. They go to someplace that Roier has only ever heard of: Purgatory.

Once in Purgatory, souls get judged by the Eye of Justice. He asks them questions about their life, and they have to answer truthfully, or he'll feed them to his children.

There are a few options for what comes next.

One: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to move on to whatever afterlife they believe in.

Two: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to reincarnate into another life.

Three: they fail the Eye of Justice's judgement and are forcibly sent to reincarnate into the life of a bug or a blade of grass or something else boring and tortuous.

Roier got to skip out on Purgatory entirely because he took the direct line to Hell. But maybe, just maybe, if he had died regularly, he could have seen his husband in Purgatory, and they could have reincarnated together.

...Ugh. Hindsight is a bitch.

(Roier is visiting his grandfather when the church bells ring.

"A witch!" he hears a woman scream, and his stomach fell right into his shoes.)

It's been 500 years, and Roier has gotten a bit of a reputation among modern witches for being one of the easier demons to work with. He'll help with their problems in exchange for information on a certain lost soul: if they hear from his husband's soul, they summon Roier. Or he'll help in exchange for some book recommendations for his son; Hell has many things, but it does not have a public library.

He isn't a particularly strong demon despite what his only angel friend, Etoiles, might say. Etoiles is just a silly little guy, don't listen to him!

(He never even got to say goodbye. They locked eyes as the flames rose, and Roier screamed his name one last time, and he hasn't been able to feel anything since.)

Jaiden was the first demon that Roier had ever met.

He was on the floor surrounded by the ashes that used to be his home. His husband's books were in charred tatters around him, but one managed to survive the fire. It was almost supernatural, but, like, yeah. Demon book, of course it was fireproof.

He was bleeding. He had offered his blood, and his soul, to the demon in exchange for his husband's life back.

She sat on the floor with him.

"I can't do that," she gently told him. "Demons can do a lot of things, but we can't perform miracles."

Roier's throat burned: smoke inhalation and grief.

"Oh," he said, small-sounding.

"But I can get his soul to Hell," she offered. "In exchange... you have to go to Hell."

His answer was immediate: "Yes."

She blinked. "I wasn't finished?"

"The answer is still 'Yes'. As long as I'm with him again, I don't care what happens to me."

"You'll have to turn your life over to Satan. You can't just go to Hell. That isn't how it works."

Roier shrugged. "That's fine."

Jaiden gawked for a moment before nodding and standing and extending her hand.

He took it.

And then he died.

But it's been 500 fucking years, and now Roier is being summoned by another witch for another deal. He'll probably have to help supply additional magic for some big important spell, that's basically all he's used for these days. He's more than a battery, thanks! He's a demon, he should be out, like, stealing souls and shit.

He goes, anyway, because he has to. If he doesn't, his contract is void, and he won't get to see his husband because he himself will be sent to Purgatory to be judged and, really, he does not want to deal with that. (The Eye of Judgement is fucking creepy, okay?)

There's the familiar pull at Roier's core, and the familiar blinding burst of light as he's yanked into the Mortal Realm, and the familiar smell of brimstone and evil that follows him wherever he goes outside of Hell.

The room is filled with blood red smoke as he appears- his trademark.

(The most important thing to a demon these days isn't evil, it's marketability.)

The witch in front of him, nothing more than a shadow hidden behind the smoke, coughs and wheezes and fans their hand in front of their face.

They're kneeled on the ground in front of a pentagram drawn in... what the fuck is this, strawberry jam?

Roier crouches and sticks a finger into one of the circle's markings. Careful not to break the circle, he pulls his finger out and licks the red stuff on it.

Shocked, he looks at the witch, and he asks, "Dude, what the fuck? Is this blood?"

What happened to chalk!?

The witch coughs at him indignantly. "I needed to make sure I got someone powerful."

Roier rolls his eyes and plops fully onto the ground, criss-cross applesauce. He wipes his blood-covered fingertip on his jeans. Newbies...

"Well, you got me," he says, humble to the core. (He may be a super evil demon now, but he isn't a dick.) "So... what's up? What do you need?"

The smoke in the room slowly starts dissipating, revealing the witch to be a man in what have to be the previous day's clothes. His head is still ducked, and his face is still hidden in his elbow as he coughs, but Roier could almost call him objectively handsome. Shame Roier's married, this guy would be fun to mess around with.

"I need to- fuck-"

The witch coughs one last time before finally managing to get a lungful of clean air. He raises his head, and Roier finally gets a look at his face, and-

"I need your help," the witch says, voice rough and rugged and absolutely heartbreaking. "I need to kill someone, and I need your help to do it."

"Okay," Roier agrees. He doesn't have a choice, being a summoned demon and all, but he doesn't think he could turn this witch down at all, because...

("Cellbit!" Roier screams.

He can see his face in his husband's glassy eyes, and then he sees nothing but the flames as they rise over Cellbit's head and drown him whole.)

The man with his husband's face frowns, suspicious.

"What," he asks, "just like that?"

Roier grins, fangs and all. "Just like that."

After all, he doesn't think he'll need any payment for this one.

He's finally found what he's been looking for.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#spiderbit #guapoduo #bit of a weird format going on here but it felt like it worked okay?#real sporadic but so are this dude's thoughts

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harmonysanreads · 9 months

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Mentally mixing bitter Neuvielttle (I can't spell his name srry) with petty reader cause honestly the way I was with my last ex was "We could keep staying together, but I'd rather break up tbh".

So stay with him, why not. Is he overbearing? Yes. Do you get your life (mostly) back? Also yes. But you're not gonna roll over. You make sure this is a give and take.

He makes you move into his house? Only if he let's you redecorate. He wants to bring you to a party so he can show you off like some kind of poodle? Come dressed like you're ready for a funeral.

You drew the line at him refusing to let you meet with friends because of jealousy. If he's gonna treat you like an animal, you'll act like one.

He knows whenever he's pissed you off because you'll suddenly be like "Cuddles? Sorry honey, I'm too busy being blackmailed by my ex :) ". He has learned the hard way that pressuring you into things will only lead to both parties being extremely upset. At least if he let's you fume for a while you'll come back to bed.

The relationship eventually becomes a strange sort of consensual. One where you're irritated by his controllingness but eventually it's accepted by both parties that you get to be petty in exchange for physical affection.

You, sitting in his lap while he does paperwork, reading: Wow this romance story is so good, the lady leaves her ex for a man who actually listens to her.

Neivelette patting you on the head: storybooks are quite whimsical aren't they?

He keeps trying to organize a wedding but every time he proposes the ring gets chucked out the window. You've already gone through eight engagement rings claiming you don't like any of them.

This is so funny and sad at the same time help ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Bitter-ex!Neuvillette is marginally petty as well, seeing as how he's hell-bent on making this work even if it requires him to breath in this constant tug-of-war to establish power — which he has in a literal sense. Although, as soon as the doors close he knows he'll have to fight for it all over again. And to pair him with a darling who's also determined on giving him the hardest time? Focalors would forget the word ‘boring’ existed if she had a front row seat to this all the time.

It's almost like you two keep an invisible tally on who has acquiesced the most amount of times. You can have your victory sometimes but Neuvillette is just too persuasive for your peace of mind. Oh well, you make sure that if he's going to win eventually, you'll give him a reason to want to tug at his hair from utter frustration first.

#please keep them coming #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette brainrot #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you

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seths-rogens · 6 months

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If I Was Any Closer, I Could Be Lost | E | 8.2k

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Or, Steve is getting married to someone else, and Eddie, desperately in love, watches it happen.

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @flowercrowngods @cheatghost @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace @i-less-than-three-you @potato-of-the-lord

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fic under the cut, or read on ao3!

"I want you to be my best man." Steve is watching him with a bright smile, and all of a sudden Eddie feels like the worst person in the world.

He has to say no. Needs to. There's no way he's surviving a front row seat to Steve Harrington's goddamn wedding.

"What?"

They're at their favourite bar, where Steve and Robin used to work back when they first moved to Indy, sitting in their usual booth in the back corner, right by the bust up jukebox. There's some sports game playing on the TV behind the bar, not basketball or baseball because Steve hasn't glanced over once. Or maybe he's already seen it.

There's a hole in the wall next to the dartboard after a drunken Nancy misjudged her own strength in throwing her dart. There's a drink on the menu named after Argyle (because he sold the owner some of his fancy Californian weed). S & E is carved into the underside of the table they're sitting at - the product of one of Steve's solo closing shifts, a visit from Eddie, and a whole bottle of tequila.

There's a lot of memories in this place. Fitting they would have this conversation here.

"Be my best man, dude." Steve's still smiling. God, he's so pretty.

"What about Robin?"

"Stacey already offered her a place as a bridesmaid. You know how well they get along." Steve's smile turns fond at the thought of his fiancee and best friend's blossoming friendship.

Eddie wonders how the hell he ended up in this situation. How he became close enough with 'King Steve' that he's invited to his wedding, let alone being offered one of the most important roles in it.

They'd grown close after Spring '86. Of course they had, facing down a grotesque, dickless fuckwad who had nothing better to do than further traumatise and kill several teenagers by way of crumpling them up like an empty coke can worked as a real bonding moment.

Plus there was the shared stint in the hospital. Playing chew toy to several hundred alternate dimension demon bats will take a lot out of you, so it seemed. Not to mention the road rash on Steve's back and how all his wounds very nearly ended up infected.

Eddie still thinks it's a miracle he managed to keep going and reassure everyone he was fine. But that's only because he knows he himself acted like a little bitch about it.

So they became friends. First, it was sharing a hospital room, then it was Steve summoning the mighty power of his absent parents to get him off scot-free for an unjust murder accusation.

Then it was late night phone calls when neither of them could sleep, whispering their fears and nightmares down the phoneline to one of the few people who could really, truly understand. Then it became late night drives to the quarry, then a shared joint on Eddie's front porch, until eventually, they were sharing a bed.

Eddie couldn't help falling in love along the way. He really tried not to. But Steve was... well, he was Steve. Selfless and bitchy and just plain good.

Eddie was doomed from the start.

But Eddie never said anything. Couldn't ruin one of his closest friendships with feelings. It's been seven years since Vecna. Steve turned 26 barely two months ago and now he's getting married to a girl he's been dating a little under a year.

And the worst part, Eddie thinks, is that they're perfect for one another.

If any girl would be the one to finally make Steve Harrington an honest man, it would be Stacey Baker. She was tall and slim, with curves in - Eddie assumes - all the right places. Her hair was so long it almost brushed her waist and a shade of blonde most people would only achieve with an $80 salon appointment. She had cheekbones so sharp they could cut, but her face was softened by the beginnings of smile lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

Eddie was used to seeing her in comfy sweaters and t-shirts stolen from Steve's dresser, but on the few occasions he'd seen her dressed up, she'd been stunning.

He can't imagine how she'll look in a wedding dress.

Together Steve and Stacey looked like the poster couple for 'American family values' and Eddie hated it. But he couldn't hate her.

He had wanted to, really wanted to, when Steve first mentioned her, but it only took one meeting to understand why he liked her so much.

Stacey was a breath of fresh air after a storm. Always smiling, always ready to help.

She kept track of Steve's medication and reminded him to put in his hearing aids. She loved him in spite of the scars she would never know the stories behind. She didn't mind the almost codependent friendships Steve had with Robin and Eddie. Didn't mind when he'd get out of bed at 3 am to go make sure Dustin was asleep at home.

And Steve... Well, everyone knows Steve falls fast.

"She's even letting her wear a suit."

Eddie blinks back to himself. "Sorry?"

"Stacey. She's letting Robin wear a suit." Steve shrugs. "Says as long as it fits the colour scheme then it's fine."

"That's great." Eddie picks up his beer, takes a long pull.

"So, will you do it?"

He should say no. He's going to say no.

"Of course I'll be your best man, Stevie. I'd be honoured."

Shit. Fuck. No. He didn't mean to do that.

Eddie is utterly, completely, absolutely, fucking screwed.

Four and a half months later sees Eddie in a hotel room he never would've shelled out for, clenching his fists instead of reaching for the overpriced mini bar and watching Steve attempt to tie his tie in the mirror.

It's lilac, and the suit is a heather grey. Just like Eddie's.

It makes him look even prettier.

Steve fumbles with the tie. "Do you need a hand with that?" Eddie asks, holding back a smirk.

Steve groans. "Yeah. I thought I had it."

Eddie pushes himself up as Steve turns to face him. He takes the ends of the tie in gentle hands and begins to wrap it around itself.

"You nervous?" Eddie focuses on what his hands are doing, instead of doing something stupid like gazing deeply into Steve's stupid gorgeous eyes.

"A little, sure." Steve shrugs, holding his head high so Eddie has the space to work.

“I mean, fuck, man.” Eddie huffs a laugh. “You’re 26 and you’re getting married. That’s insane.”

“Is it? My mom was married to my dad at 18.”

Eddie nods, taking his time because he’s certain this is the last time he’ll ever be close to Steve, to be allowed to linger. “Sure, but with everything we’ve been through. A wedding seems weirdly abnormal. Especially considering our track record.”

Steve frowns. “Abnormal?”

“Yeah. You know, unusual, unorthodox, out of the ordinary.” He tucks the tie through itself.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I know what it means, man, just… are you not, like, happy for me?”

Eddie straightens the tie out, rests his palms just beneath Steve’s shoulders on his chest. “I’m happy for you.”

“You don’t seem like it.” Steve ducks his head. “You’ve been in a bad mood all day and I can’t help but think it’s my fault somehow. Have I done something?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide with the fear that he’s been figured out. “No!” He says, perhaps too quickly. “No, it’s not you. I’ve just got shit going on, y’know? It’s been on my mind.”

Steve’s face doesn’t brighten any.

“Look, how about I promise that for the rest of the day, I’ll be the most cheerful, upbeat version of myself you’ve ever seen.”

A small smile graces Steve’s lips. “And no ranting about metal music and scaring Stacey’s relatives?”

Eddie groans. “Why not?”

Steve gives him a look.

“Ugh, fine. I promise.”

Steve smiles and Eddie’s heart soars. “Good.”

Tie lying flat against his chest, Steve turns back to the mirror, straightening out his suit jacket and fiddling with the buttons. “Do I look okay?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the two of them standing together in the mirror. His heart clenches in his chest. “Just as pretty as usual, Harrington. You might even show up the bride.”

Steve chuckles softly, ducking his head with a pretty blush. Eddie wants to feel it under his palm. "Oh, I doubt that."

"Don't sell yourself short. You clean up nice." He bit back what he really wanted to say. You look more beautiful every time I see you. God, you look good in a suit but I want nothing more than to tear it off you. Run away with me.

Steve gave Eddie a once over, from the too polished shine of his shoes to the way he'd pinned his hair up. "You too, Munson."

Steve winks and stalks out of the room. Eddie barely represses a shiver.

It seems like no time at all before they're standing at the altar. Steve holds himself with excited tension. Eddie stands at his side, hands clenched into fists behind his back, Dustin and Lucas beside him.

The bridal march plays over the church's old organ and the bridesmaids start their walk down the aisle. Max and El - bridesmaids at Steve's request - walk together arm in arm. Their lilac dresses are similar but different all the same, fitting to their personalities. Max's cane is wrapped in purple ribbon.

Robin follows, her suit the same shade as the dresses, but tailored to perfection. Her shirt is grey silk and her bow tie matches Steve's own tie.

She squeals as she reaches the altar, pulling Steve into a crushing hug. He buries his head in her neck with a laugh. She meets Eddie's eye over Steve's shoulder and gives him a capital L Look. Eddie ducks away from her gaze.

A few of Stacey's own friends follow after, taking their places at the altar, and then it's time.

Stacey looks stunning in a simple white gown. It drapes almost casually over her shoulders and tapers in at her waist. Her blonde hair sits atop her head in a complicated updo. Steve smiles fondly as she begins to walk towards him.

Everyone watches her. Eddie watches Steve.

The service passes in a haze, the way Steve fumbles reading his vows from a piece of paper gaining 'awws' from the congregation. More than once Eddie feels Robin's eyes on him. He ignores her.

The priest asks if anyone objects to their union. Eddie bites his tongue so hard it bleeds.

Too soon, they're saying "I do" and Eddie holds back tears.

Having to pose in wedding photos is a new kind of torture. To stand so close to Steve and know that he'll never be Eddie's. That he'll probably move far away, start a family, and start vacationing at all the country's questionable tourist traps - after all Steve always wanted six kids and a Winnebago. And Eddie won't be a part of any of it, just a distant memory that Steve will desperately try to forget. A stranger in his goddamn wedding photos.

He'll look at them 50 years down the line and not be able to remember Eddie's name.

It hits him hard at the reception. They're in a nice hotel, an old, rustic building on the outskirts of Muncie, the room they're in is decorated with twinkling fairy lights and flowery centrepieces.

Eddie sits pride of place next to Steve at the head table, Stacey's dad having just finished his speech. Steve is blushing, holding Stacey's hand in a tight grip as she dabs her tears away with a handkerchief.

It's Eddie's turn next. He'd rather go for round two with the demobats.

Steve pats his shoulder as he stands up, accepting the microphone from the hostess.

"What can I say about Steve Harrington?" Eddie plasters on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "This man saved my life, quite literally, on more than one occasion. He held me together, carried me on his back and gave me the blood from his body all out of a kindness I wasn't sure I deserved."

Eddie pauses, taking a breath. "Most best man speeches I've heard fall more on the funny side, and I'm sure that's what Stevie here was expecting." He smiles, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder.

He risks a glance, Steve is gazing up at him with fond eyes and a wide smile. Eddie looks away quickly, staring out at the wedding guests.

"But, though it may be out of character, I felt that a little sincerity would go a long way." He takes a breath. "The man sitting right next to me is the only reason I'm standing here today. We've been through hell together, and even have the matching scars to prove it." He hears Steve huff a laugh. "I want nothing but the best for him, and that comes in the form of Stacey, his absolutely stunning bride." He smiles over at Stacey, she flushes, a shy smile gracing her face.

"I've never seen someone understand Steve so well that they almost have Robin beat," Robin whoops from her seat a little ways away, Steve laughs. "I mean, I thought I came close, but it's nothing compared to Stacey. She loves him fully and unconditionally, and I hope they have that for the rest of their lives. Hell, I hope I have a relationship even half as loving as theirs one day."

Eddie raises his glass. "To the bride and groom."

The rest of the wedding guests chorus his words back at him, sipping from their flutes of champagne in toast. Eddie retakes his seat and not a moment later, Steve's hand finds his knee. He squeezes and leans in close to Eddie's ear. "Thanks, man. That was beautiful."

"It was nothing." He says. It was everything, he thinks.

Steve has already been roped into a conversation with Stacey's dad, and Robin is tugging Stacey over to the buffet. Dustin, Mike and Will are comparing outfits while El and Erica gossip across the table. Lucas and Max are leaned in close, heads pressed together and hands tangled on the table between them.

Here, surrounded by friends, by family, Eddie feels utterly and completely alone.

The festivities ramp up after that. The happy couple has their first dance to ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ - cheesy pick, Eddie thinks, but he can’t deny that it springs a year to his eye.

It fades into ‘Dancing in the Dark’ and Steve gains a little bounce in his step. He tugs Dustin and Robin up and spins them both round as Stacey’s little niece runs up to her with open arms. She bounces her against her hip to the music.

Everyone is smiling, warm bright grins that take up their whole faces and light up sparks in their eyes. Eddie thinks he should probably be smiling too, but he can’t help the coiling out of anxiety that spits in his stomach.

He lets Erica drag him up for a dance or too, and they swing each other round to The Human League and The B-52’s, but he bows out as Steve grabs Stacey’s hands to spin her around to Wham!’s Everything She Wants, mouthing the lyrics with a grin on his face.

Eddie grabs two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and seats himself at a nearby table. He downs the first and holds the second in his hand, swirling the sparkling liquid in slow circles and staring into the little whirlpool it creates. This isn’t his first drink, it’s maybe his fourth or fifth, and he can feel it starting to hit him now, a fuzzy warmth settling over his eyes and in his head. He gives into it like he usually wouldn’t. Figures why not if he’s watching the love of his life dance with the love of his own.

He sits there, watching these people, this family, dance and have fun without him and thinks, they would be okay without me. They don’t need me.

A few songs pass but Eddie doesn’t realise, just keeps staring into the glass. There’s only a drop or two left now, when did that happen?

He’s startled back to the present when a hand enters his field of vision.

A couple scars on the knuckles, one finger slightly too crooked, a wedding band. Eddie looks up and finds Steve smiling softly.

Eddie smiles back, holds back wine drunk tears and grabs his hand. Steve tugs him up and onto the dance floor. Eddie represses a shudder when Steve guides his hands to his waist, and wraps his own around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he stares up at Steve in shock. What’s Stacey going to say about this? He risks a glance but Stacey is preoccupied slow dancing with Robin. They’re giggling about something. Eddie flexes his fingers, clenches his hands in the fabric of Steve’s rented suit jacket.

He realises then what song is playing. Tiffany croons about a love that could’ve been over the shitty hotel sound system.

Steve sways him gently, hands fiddling with the back of Eddie’s shirt collar. They’re pressed almost chest to chest, only a sliver of space between them. It might as well be nothing.

“Every time I get my hopes up

They always seem to fall

Still, could've been is better than

What could never be at all”

Eddie has never been one to relate to the lyrics of pop songs, but all of a sudden it hits much too close to home. He feels his heart in his throat, his stomach in his feet. His breath comes short and his eyes prick with moisture.

He pushes Steve back, just on this side of too firm. Steve stumbles a little but Eddie makes sure he doesn’t fall. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie leaves a groom that isn’t his standing alone in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

He bursts out into the hallway, hair falling out of its neat updo as he whips his head from side to side, trying to figure out where to go. He picks a direction and sticks with it, striding down a random hallway until he finds an unlocked door.

He pushes it open and finds a room much like the one Steve’s reception is being held in. The lights are low here and the tables lay bare of their white silken covers. Eddie walks over to one of the tall windows and cracks it open. He pulls a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of the pocket of his slacks, and tips one into his hands.

He slips his zippo out of the front pocket of his suit jacket, and runs his thumb over the engraving. The outline of a warlock with ‘86 inscribed in the middle - a gift from Wayne after he finally graduated, third times the charm after all.

He flips it open and tries to light up. It doesn’t spark for a moment, despite how hard he tries. He thinks back to that horror flick he and Steve caught a month or two ago - hadn’t this happened to the protagonist.

Eddie snorts, his life is more a tragedy now, even if it was briefly a horror film.

The flame finally catches and he lights his cigarette, taking a deep draw and holding it until the back of his throat aches. He leans out of the window and watches the smoke curl into the dark of the night.

Behind him the door to the room clicks shut, and smart shoes click across the polished floor. They come to a stop a few feet away, and Eddie feels the hair on the back of his next stand up.

“What was that about?” Steve asks. Eddie lets out a shuddering breath, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t… don’t bullshit me, man.” Steve seems to grit his teeth, to clench out the words as if they’re hard to chew on.

Eddie sighs and stubs out his cigarette on the stone windowsill. He turns around, leaning back and starting down at the floor. “What do you want me to say, Steve?” He glances up, meets Steve’s eye. “I’m not exactly having the best time in there.”

“But we were all having fun together. As a family. You’re part of that, you know you’re part of that so I… I don’t see what the problem is? Have I done something? Is it me?” Steve rambles out, voice quivering almost imperceptibly. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the way it was perfectly styled.

Eddie ducks his head. Stays silent.

Steve swallows and nods his head with a clenched jaw. “Right. Okay.” He takes a step closer. “Can I fix it?” He whispers, eyes wide and wet.

Eddie sighs, looks anywhere except into Steve's eyes because he knows then he’ll break. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Steve asks, incredulity lacing his tone. “Come on, man. If you tell me what it is, maybe we can work out a solution together.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t…” Steve trails off. He sounds sad, and Eddie hates that it’s his doing, but he can’t handle it anymore. Can’t watch the man he loves dance with a beautiful woman who he so desperately wishes he could hate. Can't sit around and watch them build a life together when he knows he’ll never have that, not when Steve is spoken for. “When have you ever not been able to tell me something?”

Eddie bites his tongue.

“Fuck, Eddie. I don’t… I don’t know what to do!” Steve is tugging on the roots of his hair again. Eddie wonders if, were it his hands doing the pulling, Steve would moan under his touch. But then again, it’s probably the wrong time to entertain such fantasies. “You’re one of my best friends, man, and I can’t… I can’t handle you being upset with me! I mean, you’ve been weird all day! I thought maybe the party would help raise your spirits a little and yeah, okay, I was wrong, but I can’t fix this if you don’t let me. Like shit, all I did was ask you to dance and you…”

Steve pauses as Eddie looks up, watching his expression morph from one of panic and frenetic energy to a curious look of realisation.

“I asked you to dance.” Eddie nods.

Steve swallows, he’s looking away now, putting the pieces together. His hands are resting on his hips, that signature ‘Mom’ pose the kids love to make fun of so much. “You didn’t bring a date.”

“I didn’t.” Eddie finally speaks up. He knows where this is going. Isn’t ready. Is.

“Why not?” Steve sounds a little choked, like maybe he’s nervous to find out the answer.

Eddie squeezes his hands into fists and releases them. Takes a breath and lets the air leave him shaking. “Because the person I want is already here.”

Steve crumples a little then, a marionette with its strings cut. He smiles, though it seems forced, almost painful. “I’m..?”

Eddie nods, resigned. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Steve mutters under his breath before stalking towards Eddie, fast and determined, wrapping a hand around his tie and tugging him into a firm, crushing kiss.

Eddie feels himself freeze, holding his hands up as if he’s going to protect himself.

Steve’s lips are warm and soft beneath his own, they taste like cherries - the balm Eddie knows he’s so fond of, that makes his mouth look so enticing. One of his hands rests on Eddie’s cheek, large fingers spread wide from his jaw all the way to his ear. The other has flattened itself away from Eddie’s tie, now resting above the frantic thud thud thud of his heart.

Steve pulls away with his eyes closed and lips still puckered. He frowns when he comes back to himself.

“I…” He swallows. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—“

Eddie steels himself. Grabs the lapels of Steve’s suit jacket and yanks him back in, swallowing Steve’s surprised squeak with his lips. It melts into a moan and Eddie feels just a little proud of himself.

They pull back again, eyes locked and dark, afraid to break this bubble they’ve created around themselves. Separating them from the party, from the world.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Steve asks, voice wrecked and quiet. Eddie doesn’t know if the question is for him, or if Steve’s just asking to ask. But he doesn’t have the time to wonder before they’re kissing again.

Eddie doesn’t know who moved first, but their tongues are pressed together and their hands are grappling at jackets. Steve is… vocal. All breathy whimpers and rough groans. It’s music to Eddie’s ears.

He runs his hands through that stupid fucking hair, softer than it probably was in high school, free of the hairspray and gel that kept it big. Steve’s grown since then. He still primps and preens with the best of them, but he isn’t so reliant on Farrah Fawcett now. Steve’s hands play with the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck, tangling and carding through the strands. He gives a gentle tug and Eddie can’t help but gasp.

He feels Steve smirk into the kiss as his hands drift further down, to his shoulders and then his chest. Steve loosens Eddie’s tie and presses a kiss to the base of Eddie’s throat as he undoes the first button of his shirt.

“Steve.” Eddie whispers, voice soft and pained.

Steve pulls back, looks at him through his eyelashes, reverent and dark. “Let me do this for you.” His voice comes out soft. He undoes a few more buttons, staring deep into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie can’t look away. His shirt is down to his navel now. He nods his head. “Okay.”

Steve smiles, a small, secret thing, and drops carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with Eddie’s. He pulls Eddie’s shirt from his dress slacks, pressing a sweet kiss to the skin beneath his belly button. He rests a hand on Eddie’s belt - he had retired the handcuffs for the night, and some part of him deeply regrets it. “Can I?”

Eddie’s glad Steve had the forethought to wear his contacts. He thinks he’d die if Steve was looking up at him through gold wire frames.

He nods, and Steve makes quick work of his belt buckle. He slowly pulls the pants zipper down, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cock where it sits, more than half hard, in his briefs.

Eddie inhales sharply, the sensation dull but still ever present. He glances down, sees Steve on his knees before him, has to look away.

Steve sucks at the wet spot forming on Eddie's boxers and Eddie bites back a moan. Steve pulls away, staring up at him, but keeps one hand on him, rubbing slowly through the fabric. "I wanna hear you."

Eddie's hands clench and unclench in the air by his sides, unsure where to put them, what Steve's comfortable with. But that question is answered for him when a gentle hand takes his, presses a kiss to each individual knuckle, and guides his to the top of Steve's head, threading his fingers through his hair. "You don't have to be so gentle with me. I like it a little rough." Steve says, voice light and teasing.

And all of a sudden, Eddie's mind is flooded with the imagery of that statement. Steve face down on a bed, tears streaking his cheeks. Steve's strong hands clenching in white bed sheets. Purple bruises littering his collarbones, his chest, his thighs.

God, those thighs. He imagines them wrapped around his waist, over his shoulders, either side of his head.

He imagines Steve, sweat slicked and quivering beneath him. Writhing and moaning and begging. Imagines a fierce red blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck to his chest as Eddie whispers sweet nothings and dirty talk in his ear. Imagines him wrapped in soft, tight rope, a dark crimson or black to contrast the tan of his skin. Imagines his hands tied to the headboard.

His mind is full to the brim of pictures and possibilities, a million ways he could bring the man before him to ruin.

Eddie clenches his hand in Steve's hair, tugging sharply at the strands. He watches Steve's eyes flutter closed as he gasps. Steve smirks. "That's more like it."

"Shouldn't you be putting that mouth to better use?" Steve's smug look drops away, that pretty red blush Eddie had fantasised about replacing it. Eddie uses his grip on Steve's hair to pull him closer to his crotch.

Steve wets his lips, reaches up and tugs Eddie's briefs down to free his cock. It bounces up, slapping against his stomach and smearing pre against his skin.

Steve wraps a warm hand around it, pumps it up and down. He leans in, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to the base and gazing up at Eddie through his eyelashes. He licks a stripe up the underside from base to tip with the flat of his tongue, before suckling on the head.

Eddie loosens his grip, cards his fingers through the soft strands. He smirks. "That's more like it." He says with a mean, teasing lilt. Steve's eyes flutter, rolling back for a moment until Eddie can only see the whites. He tugs again, gentle this time. "C'mon, baby. You know what I want."

He dons that dominant persona like a second skin. He can’t let himself think about how fucking wrong this is, how Steve’s goddamn wife is only a a few rooms away. He knows he’s fucked everything up irreparably, but what the hell? He’s already started, he might as well follow through.

Steve nods, movements stilted under Eddie's grasp. He wraps his lips around the head of his cock, flicking the slit with the tip of his tongue. He bobs his head a little, sucks and laves his tongue over Eddie's skin until the room is filled with nothing save his wet noises and Eddie's own heavy breathing. He moans, his eyes closed, sending vibrations down the length of his shaft.

Eddie bites back a groan, watching Steve’s lips stretched wide and shiny around his cock. When Steve blinks his eyes open, gazing up at Eddie, they’re glossy and wide - a goddamn dream come true.

Steve hollows his cheeks, swirls his tongue around the head of Eddie’s cock before swallowing him down to the hilt and engulfing him in a wet heat.

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie moans, clenching his hand in Steve’s hair to hold him there. He wonders where Steve learned to do this, who’s cock he sucked to get this good. Part of him is jealous it wasn’t him. He wants to ask him the story, knows he never will. “Made for this, weren’t you, Stevie?” Steve whimpers, it’s muffled with his mouth full. “You look so pretty on your knees.”

Steve’s eyes flutter as he tries desperately to keep his gag reflex in check. Eddie pulls him off by his hair, letting his panting breaths echo in the quiet of the room as he tries to catch his breath.

He takes in the mess of the man on his knees before him. Steve’s eyes are watering so much they’re glassy, his lips are swollen and red. Eddie thinks he could cum just from the sight of him.

“Harder?” Steve’s voice is hoarse already, his lips slick and slightly swollen.

Eddie raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it.” Steve leans in close, pulling against Eddie’s grip. He slowly jerks Eddie’s cock in one hand as he presses languid kisses along the length. He presses his free hand against the sizable tent in his slacks. “Take what you want. I’m not made of glass.”

Eddie kicks at the hand he’s grinding against to move it out of the way, takes a step forward and rests his shoe between Steve’s legs, pushed right up against the bulge in his trousers. Steve inhales sharply, staring up at Eddie, dark eyes wide with shock. He shifts, bears his weight down and gives an experimental roll of his hips. A shudder wracks his frame.

“Good?” Eddie smirks. Steve just nods, hips juddering. “Tap my leg if you want me to stop, yeah?” He nods again. “Words, Stevie.”

“Yeah.”

“Better. Now open up.” Steve’s mouth falls open, his tongue lolling out, pink and wet. Eddie bites back a groan at the sight and grips his cock at the base. He rests it on Steve’s tongue for no more than a moment, before sliding it in all the way. He runs his hand through Steve’s hair, then grips it tight, holding him down. “So beautiful.” He murmurs.

Steve moans, the sensation around his cock causing Eddie’s hips to jerk and hit the back of Steve’s throat. Steve chokes, and Eddie starts to pull out.

He doesn’t make it far before Steve is grabbing his ass to pull him in deeper. “Fuck, Stevie. Guess you weren’t lying, huh?”

He thrusts in again as Steve’s nails dig in hard through Eddie’s slacks. He builds up a rhythm, guiding Steve’s head with a hand in his hair, his cock gliding slick and perfect against Steve’s smooth tongue as Steve sucks and whimpers and swirls his tongue. Steve’s hips jerk frantically where they’re pressed against Eddie’s shoe.

It can’t be comfortable, Eddie thinks, but nonetheless he keeps going.

Moonlight spills through the window and casts Steve in a pale glow. He’s more beautiful than ever, down on his knees like he’s at prayer, while sinning so prettily.

Eddie can feel that sizzling heat start to simmer in the bottom of his stomach, frissions of arousal sending sparks all over his body.

It’s perfect. It’s not enough.

If this is the last time Eddie will ever see Steve, ever have him beneath him, be inside him, then he needs more. Needs to be pressed against the strength of his back, needs to feel the warmth of him seeping through his clothes. He needs the intimacy if anything. Needs Steve to know how wanted he is, how this is more than just a quick meaningless fuck.

They’ve already ruined whatever friendship they had, what more could they lose?

“Fuck.” Eddie mutters. He pulls Steve up by his hair, spins him round until his back presses against Eddie’s chest.

“What… what’re you doing?” Steve asks, voice gravel rough. Eddie reaches around, grapples with Steve’s belt buckle until it comes undone. He pushes his slacks and his briefs down, until they hang around Steve’s knees.

“Taking what I want.” Eddie pulls at Steve’s suit jacket, pressing kisses down his jaw, his neck, behind his ear, as he works it down his arms. He tosses it unceremoniously to the side before pressing a flat palm between Steve’s shoulder blades and pushing until his chest lies against a nearby table. That perfect fucking ass is round and bare and presented to Eddie like a goddamn feast.

He wishes he could get his mouth on it, knows he never will.

He brings his hand down against Steve’s right ass cheek, the crack echoing sharp and loud in the quiet of the room. He slots his hand over the reddening welt, takes a handful and squeezes.

“Oh fuck.” Steve lets out a breathy moan, his breath fogging up the wood as one hand reaches out to grasp the opposite edge of the table.

Eddie rucks Steve’s shirt up, rubbing his hands over the harsh scars that cover his back, healed silver with time but still rough to the touch. He trails his hands down Steve’s back, stopping until his thumbs fit perfectly into his dimples of venus. He leans in, kisses down the knobs of his spine, each vertebrae blessed with a press of his lips, before coming to a stop at his tailbone.

“Eddie…” Steve exhales a whine, cheek pressed to the table under him. “Stop fucking teasing and touch me.”

Eddie chuckles softly, nipping at the expanse of skin beneath him with his teeth, sucking a mark. “Oh, baby, I am touching you.”

Steve growls, a rumbling guttural thing, and pushes his hips back, his bare ass pressing against Eddie’s cock. Eddie barely holds back a moan, his hand clenching around Steve’s hip to hold him still.

“I didn’t say you could move, honey.”

Steve inhales sharply at the pet name. “I need more, Eds. Please.”

Please, he says, as if that doesn’t shake Eddie’s entire world to its core. He’s going to be playing that over and over in his head until he fucking dies.

“Since you asked so pretty.” Eddie takes a half step forward, grinds slowly against Steve’s crack, his cock catching against Steve’s hole. “God, the things I’d do to you if I had some lube and a condom.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh, shuddering as Eddie’s hips keep moving, continuing that slow, steady grind. “I’d let you.”

Eddie grins, runs his hands up and down Steve’s back before stopping at his hips and squeezing gently. “Yeah? You’d let me fuck you right here?”

“Uh huh.” Steve shifts, presses his forehead to the table and rocks back. Eddie digs his fingers into that soft, supple flesh beneath his palms and imagines carving a hole in Steve’s chest, making a home there, living within him. They’d never be apart, nothing could ever separate them.

It’s a sort of possessiveness Eddie can never indulge. But God, how he wishes he could.

Eddie pauses for a moment. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s all happening so fast he can barely keep up. He knows he should put a stop to this, walk away before he makes it any worse.

But, well, fuck it, he thinks.

Everything’s already well and truly ruined. Why should he stop now?

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles out against the table, bringing Eddie back to the moment. “Y’okay?”

Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest.

Here is a man laid before him, messy and perfect and everything he has ever dreamed of, and Eddie realises he’s been going about this all wrong.

Some dark, cruel part of him is yelling for him to make this count. To make sure Steve remembers this the next time he lays down with his wife. The next time she undresses him, kisses him, touches him in those intimate places. That part of him says, make it sweet, loving. Make it tender. Make sure he knows it isn’t just sex.

That part is screaming. Ruin him.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay.” Eddie leans down. Presses a gentle kiss to the side of Steve’s neck as he rocks against the crevice of Steve’s ass. Trails more kisses over his clothed shoulder, down the scarred knobs of his back.

He runs his hands up Steve’s sides, touches him almost reverently. Like something holy. “You’re so beautiful, Steve.”

Steve gasps out a moan, rocks back like he’s not in control. Eddie bites back a groan, rocks forward.

He feels something swinging against his hip, reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a half empty tube of vaseline. He smirks, squeezes some out onto his fingers and warms it up. Eddie reaches down, drags a slick finger over Steve’s hole and presses gently against it. Steve shudders, choking out a whine.

Eddie spreads a little more vaseline between his cheeks. He rubs up against him again, gliding smoother where skin meets skin. “That feel good, baby?”

Steve nods, free hand clenching into a fist against the table.

“Words, honey.”

“Feels good, Eds. So good.” Steve replies breathily. Eddie chuckles. He builds a rhythm grinding forward as Steve pushes back. It’s quiet for a moment or two, save for the sounds of their breathing and Steve’s punched out little groans.

Eddie presses his clean hand against the centre of Steve’s back, keeping him in place, and reaches round with his slick one, wrapping it around Steve’s cock. He strokes slowly once, twice, three times, running his thumb over the head to collect Steve’s pre and spread it back down.

“Fuck, Eddie.” Steve gasps out, hips jerking in his grip. His movements are juddering, like he can’t decide whether to fuck into Eddie’s fist or back against his cock. His cheek is pressed flat against the table, eyes clenched shut.

Eddie keeps his fist just bordering on too loose, keeps moving his hips. He leans close to Steve’s ear. “I want you to feel good, Stevie. Take what you want.”

Steve takes that as his cue, grinding rapidly back and forth, fingertips grasping for purchase against the smooth wood. He gasps and moans, writhing in place.

Eddie curses, rocking his hips against Steve’s heat. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Steve moans, deep and guttural as his movements become frantic. He reaches down, covers Eddie’s hand with his own, tangles their fingers and tightens Eddie’s grip.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that. M’so close.” Steve whines beneath him, trembling as he picks up the pace. His hips move faster, stuttering and jerking as he nears his end.

It’s almost a surprise to watch Steve come. It’s everything and nothing like Eddie expected. He could’ve fantasised for hours, days, years, but nothing his brain would’ve come up with is comparable to seeing the real thing.

Steve loses himself in it, lets the pleasure wash over him like a tidal wave. His eyes clench shut and his mouth falls open in a long moan as he comes undone. His hips keep pushing into the tight wet of Eddie’s fist until he becomes oversensitive.

Finally, he pulls his hand away, rests it on the table.

Eddie pulls away too, takes his own cock in hand as Steve lies there coming down, breaths coming out fast, and takes the sight of him in. The look of him debauched, ravished. The strain of muscles beneath scarred skin. The pink blush on his cheeks. The bitten red of his lips. It doesn’t take much.

“C’mon, Eds. Wanna feel you come.” But that’s what really does it. A few jerks of his hand and Eddie’s coming, streaking white across silver scars.

He falls forward, drapes himself over Steve in a desperate need for closeness. Doesn’t care about the mess he’s surely making of his shirt.

The room is near quiet. Still. And Eddie feels warm save for the sinking in his stomach.

He kinda wants to stay there forever. Knows he has to leave as quickly as he can.

Minutes pass, neither of them make the effort to move.

Eddie pants, pressing his forehead between Steve's shoulder blades. The room is silent save for their synced panting breaths. He pushes himself up slowly, muscles protesting the movement.

Steve remains in place on the table top, cheek pressed against the wood as he catches his breath. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes fanning over flushed skin, and his forehead is damp with sweat. One of his hands lies curled but loose against the table, the other grips the farthest edge, white knuckled. His shirt is rucked up to his armpits, showing the scarred expanse of his back. His slacks are round his knees, the perfect curve of his ass bare.

He's marked with Eddie's cum. All the way from his hole to the centre of his back. It stands out, pale against the tan of his skin. Eddie's almost tempted to reach out, drag a finger through it.

He doesn't.

Instead, he pulls the lilac pocket square from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and unfolds it. With gentle hands, he wipes his spend from Steve's back. He balls the soiled cloth up and shoves it deep into his pants pocket. He'll bin it later - even if the thought of keeping it does briefly cross his mind.

Steve hums, grateful, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the table. He flexes the hand that was gripping the edge, trying to get the feeling back.

Eddie turns away, feels like he's seen more than he's rightfully allowed. He tugs his pants up, hands shaking as he clasps his belt. He makes an attempt to tuck in his shirt, but it's creased to shit now, so it doesn't quite lay flat anymore.

He walks back over to the window. Outside, the moon is high and the sky is clear. The ground is dewey, almost sparkling. He thinks it must've rained at some point.

He taps out another cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lights up. Blowing out a plume of smoke, Eddie presses his forehead to the cool glass.

Behind him, he can hear Steve shuffling, tidying himself up. Probably preparing to let Eddie down and run off back to his perfect little wife.

Well fuck that, Eddie's gonna beat him to it.

"We can't do this again." He says, fogging up the glass in front of him as he speaks.

Steve's voice is rough when he replies. "I know."

Eddie knows that tone of voice. He knows it all too well. The one where he says one thing but means another.

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, turns and leans against the wall next to the window. Steve's leaning back against the table they just fucked on, staring down at a scuff on his left shoe.

From this vantage Eddie gets to see the wondrous Steve Harrington in all his post-sex glory. His shirt is all rumpled, much like Eddie's own, his jacket is still in a pile on the floor. His hair is a goddamn mess and, though he's tucked himself away, his slacks still hang open at his hips.

Fucking temptation incarnate.

"Steve." Steve looks up, his eyes are still shiny. "We can't. You're married."

Steve frowns, looking away again. He doesn't seem too happy about that. Taking in the frown lines on Steve's face, Eddie would guess the man is at war with himself. Running through all his options. He bets Steve wishes he could run off and find Robin, talk to her before finishing this conversation.

Unlucky for him, Robin is nowhere to be seen.

Eddie swallows down a lump in his throat. Has to force himself to say something he knows will wreck the both of them. "I think it's best that we don't see each other for a while."

Steve's head whips up so fast, Eddie's surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. "What?"

Eddie shrugs, self-deprecating and overly conscious of the mess this all is. "I don't... I never intended to be a homewrecker."

Steve scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. "The home has barely been built, man."

A sharp exhale and Eddie's running his free hand through his hair. "That's so much worse! You've got to see that it's worse, Steve!" He takes a pull from his cigarette and blows the smoke out fast. "I was just gonna keep this shit to myself. I never expected this."

"You did it, though. You let me.”

"I did." Eddie chokes out, voice shaky. "And I shouldn't have. I'm fucking sorry that I did."

Steve nods. He's quiet for a moment, his head ducked and shoulders hunched. When he talks again, it's quiet. "How long then?"

Eddie tilts his head. "What?"

Steve looks up then, fierce eyes burning hard into his own. "How long until I see you again?"

"Oh." Eddie breathes softly. "I'm not sure." He swallows. "I need time to get over you, Stevie."

Steve's gaze has gone cold, frozen over. Eddie knows it isn't personal, he's just trying to protect himself, but it hurts all the same. "Well you should probably go then."

It stings like a shot to the heart. "Right."

He moves to stub out his cigarette, but Steve stops him before he can. "Leave the cigarette." Eddie nods, leaving it resting on the window ledge. He slips a hand into his pocket, thumb rubbing over the engraving on his lighter. He pulls it out, watches how the silver glints in the moonlight, and gently rests it down on the ledge as well.

He can't meet Steve's eye again as he walks out of his life for what he knows will be forever, but he does stop at his side. He leans in, presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. Whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And rushes out of there.

He stops at the door before he leaves completely. Finds Steve stood at the window, Eddie's cigarette between his lips and dusty suit jacket draped around his shoulders. He flicks open the lighter in his hand, watching the flame flicker.

The last time Eddie Munson sees Steve Harrington, he is gazing out of the window into the moonlight, rumpled from Eddie's hands on his body, and Eddie knows his heart is never going to recover.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #zee writes

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eleventhrenaissance · 8 months

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Just left the gym, actually really glad I went. I got up at 4 but dragged hella slow out of bed. 27 minutes on the bike incline of 15 at 5 miles. Did pull downs and rowing. Wanted to attempt abs but I'm not knowledgeable about most of the equipment but I have my training session. Vaguely considering coaching sessions. Anyway it's my only day off. I'm -$70 so I'm just gonna withdraw enough for coffee today and tomorrow and some more seltzers and possibly a meal before starting my long fast early tonight. Took an addy so I'm hoping to get something done today. Got to remember to pick up my Y pass today- so I was thinking I'd go to the co op for my meal while I'm downtown and take it to the lake if it doesn't rain like it's supposed to. I'm 10 hours fasted currently. Feel great and sharp.

Going to keep posting here for accountability. I already journal in my google keep notes but I like showing off my progress.

I've lost 40 lbs since July 18. I was 280ish. I met my first goal by my friend's wedding last weekend, being able to fit the dress I wanted to wear so badly. I actually felt lovely in it. But now it's onto the ball around my birthday in December. I'm thinking I can do 40 more lbs by then. 199, onederland. Haven't seen that since 2011. I finally feel recovered from my disorder, about 90%. Less self loathing. I'm losing weight the healthiest way now. No more purging. And with that in mind I feel confident the weight will stay off.

Since my break up in June I've taken to nature and hiking. Going to Rainier next weekend 💖 waterfall tour!

#ed recovery #weight loss #working out #intermittentfasting #health

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dearcraziness · 10 months

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Chapter 76.

The phone rang in the tiny bedroom of the two-room apartment. Slightly opening his eyes, Henry got out of bed, picked up the phone, sleepily saying, "Hello? I'm listening."

"Hello, my friend! Did you just wake up when I called you?" Joey's cheerful voice rang out on the other end of the line. "Get ready, let's go to Bendy and friends to have breakfast!"

"Did they invite us to visit them?" the brunette asked, trying to open his eyes.

"No, we'll surprise them with our visit!" pal convinced. "I've found some gifts for our black and white creatures; I'll say they're from both of us, so hurry up and come out to Turquoise Street in half an hour. I'll be waiting by the bicentennial oak tree."

The half-bald, fair-haired man was the first to end the conversation, and his friend, still not fully awake, slowly left the room, thinking to himself : "And why is he talking about his plans at the last moment?... Now I have to hurry so that an unexpected meeting takes place ..."

Henry brewed coffee in a white cup, felt a surge of strength and energy; he quickly gathered himself and left the corridor, locking the door behind him. Suddenly, the thought flashed through his mind about how great it would be if he lived under the same roof with Gwen, however, they hadn't yet discussed the topic of the wedding, and the man was quite nervous after his intentions to propose to the dark-haired beloved with a short haircut, who, was wearing a medium-length black dress without sleeves, with white ruffles at the bottom.

While the brunette was driving away embarrassing thoughts, he didn't notice how he reached a small quiet park which contained one fountain in the middle and rows of benches with elegant legs and smoothly curved backs. The man with a tied ponytail on the back of his head was standing near a bench hidden in the shade, he was dressed in his usual light green shirt and blue jeans. When he saw Henry, he waved and went to meet his friend.

"Well, finally!" Joey exclaimed. "I've been standing here for half an hour."

"You should have called me at five o'clock in the morning and said: 'Let's go to our friends!'" his pal in a black suit and a dark jacket responded amicably.

"Well, it's not my fault that I still have the habits of a boss. Okay, on the way, you'll see what we'll give to our friends. So, you carry the green bag."

"And why did you decide not to invite your family with you? Last time we had a great time in the studio in a big company."

"I see you didn't invite Gwen, either."

"I just didn't have time..."

"To tell the truth, Amanda and Samantha are going to choose summer clothes today, and you know my attitude to buying different rags... We agreed that I'd visit the studio while they were shopping... I'm sure Bendy and the others will be glad to see us."

"I suppose you're right. We haven't meet since Christmas Eve."

Friends passed a couple of minutes in silence, imagining an early meeting with ink creatures. Then Joey began to recall aloud one funny incident at work, and the old acquaintances were passing their way more cheerfully, the path became more interesting and seemed to be a little shorter.

When they reached the porch, Joey pressed the doorbell, but no one answered for five minutes, although the blond man pressed the button repeatedly. Then the former boss took out his keys and inserted them into the keyhole.

"Don't you think it's better for us to wait and not come in uninvited?" Henry interrupted.

"Are you suggesting to stand and freeze until they let us in?"

"It's plus twenty degrees outside."

"I don't see any reason why I can't open the door myself." Joey stubbornly replied, and the two friends went into the dimly lit corridor, to the displeasure of the brunette.

Voices were coming from the kitchen: one was low and deep, the other was high and quiet. The creators immediately guessed they belonged to Bendy and Lara. Joey peeked into the kitchen from behind the light yellow wall, Henry whispered urgently to him, "Eavesdropping and spying on others is not allowed, even if they are your creations."

"Just little bit, I'm curious to find out what they are talking about." the fair-haired man answered barely audible, looking at the ink creatures.

Henry didn't dissuade his friend anymore, because he was also curious to see the relationship of the devils, even if he didn't admit it even to himself.

The devils were discussing the pictures they had dreamed, Bendy was just finishing the narration of what he had seen in the dream world, "We made the last crane out of paper and the birds flew up, went to distant lands across the clear blue sky... I woke up with the thought I would certainly give you origami figures, I've already looked at a couple of options which might interest you, Laurie..."

"I'll like any of your gifts, Bendusya... But I had a strange dream..."

"Was it a nightmare again, dear?..." concern was drawn on the demon's face; eyebrows rose and shifted; the young man hugged the girl a little tighter, stroking the top of her head with his right hand.

"No, honey, I just didn't quite understand its meaning." the little devil patted her lover on the shoulder, his anxiety subsided. "In my dream, for some unknown reason, I didn't have a bed, we went to 'Happy Home' to choose the missing furniture, but as soon as you put the bed in my room, the floor under it became bottomless, it disappeared as if it had drowned, then the room became the same again, with an empty space in the left corner..."

"You're right, the dream is really unusual... Perhaps you don't feel comfortable enough in your bed, love?... Let's find you another mattress or the frame itself..."

"No, I'm pretty comfortable... Don't worry..."

"Alright... We seem to have the same beds..."

"I think yours is larger..."

"Do you want to exchange, moonlight?..."

"I just said to the fact yours is also very cozy..."

"Are you implying you want to sleep in my bed today?..." Bendy blushed slightly.

After the demon's words, the two men were very confused by the unexpected turn of the conversation, although, the attention only flared up more.

"Maybe..." Lara smiled slyly.

"Whatever you say, I'm all for it... It doesn't matter if we're in your room or in mine..."

"Sounds like we're going to do something besides sleep, although it's not like that at all..."

"You mean, we only sleep together in bed?..." the imp asked, carefully looking at his chosen one. "Yes, we don't need close physical contact in order to spend exciting days and nights... More precisely, in the future, of course, we'll strengthen not only our spiritual connection, but now it's too early... Do you agree, petal?..."

"Totally... I understand perfectly well if I'm not attractive enough to drive you crazy... Probably for the best..."

"Laura, please don't say you're not alluring enough!... Sometimes it's very difficult for me to control my impulses, however, I keep myself in control, simply because... I'm afraid to embarrass you too much and make you uncomfortable... To be honest, I have no idea how to start an intimate relationship..."

"Neither do I..."

"I think we'll decide for ourselves, because each couple has its own story... Tulip, I must admit, I'm ready to talk to you even on the most awkward topics without experiencing difficulties... I have no secrets from you, and there's no topic that I wouldn't be able to discuss with you..."

"I'm only able to talk to you, for example, about adult stuff..."

The devils blushed, looking down.

"... It would seem like this is the only thing which should be difficult for us to talk about, but apparently we can communicate with each other about everything, even the most embarrassing and unclear to the end..." Bendy spoke nervously. "By the way, Lara... I'm not hinting at anything, but how did you find out about that intimate activity?..."

"I watched some TV series, and one word sounded incomprehensible to me in the dialogue between friends. Soon I found its meaning in a book on the psychology of relationships... And then in the handbook of biological terms..."

"I also read the information there after I heard a new word from you... It turns out you told me about one of the stages of growing up, and we both had more information about the rapprochement after our wedding..."

"In general, of the two of us, you have always been the more prudent... You weren't offended or angry when I decided to leave the studio for a while..."

"I respect you, your intentions, sunshine... And that's why I'm giving you as much freedom as you need... Believe me, you help me quite often, words cannot describe my gratitude to you for your support... Because of my impressionability, I react sharply to the events taking place..."

"You know how to sympathize with others and perceive their emotions as your own... A very good quality, as for me..."

"And you empathize with other creatures, only in a calmer form... Whatever happens, you understand everyone has a unique destiny, and it's not worth knocking the others off their path, even if it seems wrong..."

Bendy bent down, kissed Lara on the cheek, wrapped her waist from the back, and continued, "Thank you for your appearance in my life... Stay true to yourself, because you are perfect with your excellent qualities... Love you very much, Lau, no matter what mood you are in... My only wish is to make you happy..."

"You're doing great, honey... Love you very much too... I'm sure you'll be the perfect husband for me..."

"And you will be my irresistible wife, moonlight... After our marriage, I will give you absolutely all kinds of pleasure..."

"No doubt, honey... Isn't it time to get breakfast out of the oven?..."

"Not yet, the roll should be baked within twenty minutes... Which tea would you prefer to drink?... Black with mint and bergamot?..."

"You read my mind..."

"I just know your favourite drinks well enough..."

Bendy got up and was about to go for the kettle, when he noticed the disappearance of the smile from Lara's face and stopped.

"Baby, did I upset you with my words?..." the demon looked with anxiety.

"It's all right, my wizard..." she got up from her seat.

"Starlight, don't hide your thoughts if you need to speak out... I promise to listen to you carefully and help solve your problems..."

"Darling, I'm really sorry one day I just left instead of talking to you... Believe me, I won't leave you anymore, if there are difficulties, we'll fix the situation together..."

"Oh, sweetie, I'll always be here for you... You are not at all to blame for what happened - I should have guessed that by doing all the housework for you, I won't bring joy into your life, saving you completely from the hassle... Forgive me if you felt unneeded back then... I just wanted to take care of you... And my intentions to protect you are still getting stronger every day..."

"Fluffy, you don't need to apologize; it just seemed to me I wasn't independent enough in my life, but now you often give me the opportunity to do an ordinary routine with you... However, you still take a lot on yourself..."

"It's not a burden to me at all, Larry... I'm ready to fulfill any of your dreams..."

"I know... Bendy, thank you..."

"For what exactly, dear?..."

"For your patience... Whatever my mood and attitude to others, you are always near me, even if I push you away sometimes..."

The young man took the girl in his arms and fixed a gentle gaze into her eyes.

"Dear, I'll stay with you, even if you decide to turn my life into a living hell... Our roads have converged, and together we are writing the story of our joint eternal existence..."

"You're right, my sweet... I think it's time for us to set the table..."

The demon carefully put the girl on the plank floor and, wrapping his left arm around the girl's waist, took her wrist with his right hand and said, "I can handle it myself, fishy... You can only help if you want to..."

"I do..." she answered briefly and smiled.

"Alright, my precious..."

The imp began to cover the demoness's fingers, the outer and inner parts of the palm, forearm, shoulder, neck, chin, lips, nose, cheek, temple with kisses, and probably would have kissed his beloved further, but the girl interrupted him, calmly saying, "That's enough, dear... Later you will continue..."

The demon kissed the imp on the cheek a couple more times before coming to his senses, "Oh, yes, yes, of course... It's time to pull the roll out of the oven..."

The devils set plates, cups, the young man poured boiling water over the teapot, spread out the dishes. Joey and Henry decided to express their impressions of the beloved ones' conversation in the Reading Room, but they were soon discovered by Bendy when he went to call the others to the kitchen. The imp saw the door open, entered and greeted his creators, "Good morning! I didn't expect to meet you today."

"We came to you with small gifts." Joey smiled.

"Glad to see you again, buddy." Henry said good-naturedly, looking at the devil.

"It's great you decided to visit us! Let's go to the kitchen and have breakfast together."

After lunch, the friends talked, the creators presented gifts reflecting the interests of each individually. At the moment when the demon wiped the last plate and put it back in place, the blond man looked at the black-and-white sweethearts telling jokes and remembering remarkable stories, thinking.

"Hmm, I didn't believe in the existence of kindred spirits before..." the former boss began. "But you have proved me wrong - turns out it's possible to fall in love once and for all..."

"Of course, it doesn't happen otherwise." the devil replied. "Some people just rush things, getting confused in their own feelings, perceiving them as true eternal affection. Therefore, I think it's worth starting an acquaintance being only friends in order to get to know the other better... When I met Lara, my inner voice didn't let me down - the more often we spent time together, the more clearly I realized I really love her..."

"I began to feel sympathy for you, but later..." said the demoness. "I realized after a while - we help each other find true happiness..."

"You're right, our relationship brought us a huge range of joyful emotions..."

Joey and Henry smiled, listening to the harmonious sound of the voices of the young man and the girl.

"And I already thought your sweet communication wouldn't impress me some more after your morning conversation..." the blond creator blurted out, but he immediately fell silent, awkwardly turning his head to the side.

"Were you eavesdropping?" the demon frowned.

"Sorry, Bendy, we accidentally overheard part of your conversation." Henry said. "And then we became interested. But I promise it won't happen again."

"That's right, that's right." Joey hastened to assure. "We're sorry if we embarrassed you."

The imp discovered Lara's rather calm reaction and, sighing, replied, "For some reason I'm not surprised - you used to follow us without our knowledge..."

"It wasn't for long." the fair-haired man objected. "I was so glad to see you; it was hard for me to imagine one day I'd be able to bring you to live, however, I did. You're very dear to me. We're now like one big friendly family."

"Joey, I think you haven't fully told us how you found the book with magic spells." Henry said. "And how the studio has expanded so much."

"The answer is quite simple to these two questions - a happy accident. At first, I puzzled over moving cartoon characters into our world for a long time, then I heard about a City of Black-and-white creatures located nearby, just a few dimensions further away. Then it dawned on me - why not go to the local library for literature on mysticism and esotericism? I used to think travelling in different worlds was impossible, but the book "Ars vitae" clearly described the process of teleporting, to which a spell was attached. I read the magic words, and after a couple of minutes I was standing in a completely new place for me. I denied seeing a completely new city: ink creatures walked everywhere, some looked at me in surprise, questioningly, because I was too different from them. After carefully examining the streets and observing the behaviour of ink creatures, I realized we differ significantly only in appearance, and in character, skills we were quite similar, apart from the ability to conjure and predisposition to magic. I had the idea to study witchcraft... Amanda didn't like my new hobby - if I used to draw cartoon characters all night long, then the practice of spells has been added to my usual work. My colleagues also distrusted me when I told them we'd have a huge studio in a magical world where we could realize almost any dream with one click of our fingers... One sunny day, when the work on the plots of the next ten episodes was finished, I moved back to another dimension and found a suitable place which became my second home... Soon I used space distortion spells, and the studio increased significantly. But before that, I found a way to revive Bendy and his friends - it required a lot of ink, so I bought an Ink Machine... With the help of it, I performed the ritual of dark magic..."

He grinned and after a little pause continued," When the black puddle started moving near me, I was so scared that I ran into the storage room, watching from there what would happen next. Apparently, at that moment you were in another world, a little later you appeared in a dark long corridor. I was going to come up and greet you, but you looked so joyful, having fun communicating with each other, I decided not to distract you. I headed back to tell my family about the miracle which had happened, to tell Henry, who by that time had become a reliable friend to me, but no one took my words seriously... And now I understand - it was just difficult for them to understand what I did... It's good I was able to explain, to tell you how it happened..."

#bendy and the ink machine

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buckybleu · 3 years

Text

❈ date night ❈

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

summary: Bucky misses another date night and this might be the last straw.

a/n: Welcome back to Night 4 of Tricks & Treats! I've contemplated whether or not to post this piece. It's not up to the standards I'd like, but regardless I'm very proud of myself on writing it! I love reading Mob!Bucky fics, especially where he's a bit softer and decided to give it a try. Hope you enjoy, happy reading! 🧡

all errors and mistakes are mine!

reblogs/likes/feedback are greatly appreciated! 🎃

word count: 1167

Want more? Here's my masterlist ☺

It’s not often that you and Bucky get quality time together. You worked full-time as a professor at a local university. If lectures or office hours weren’t taking up your time, nights were spent answering students’ emails, outlining the upcoming weeks’ lectures, or in meetings. Bucky, well, you weren’t too sure what exactly he was doing, but you knew it kept him busy. From the small tidbits he’d given you, you knew there were long meetings with rivals or higher officials, checking and balancing his businesses, and “cleaning up.” Previous date nights were cancelled due one of you having to work late (most Bucky cancelling on you). However, you and Bucky were able to clear up your schedules for a long needed date night.

“Anywhere you want Doll” Bucky’s velvety voice soothes you. “The weekend is ours. Milan? Paris? Anywhere. I’ll take you.” The idea of being whisked away to another city was tempting. However, you didn’t want that. You were grateful for even the suggestion, but you only wanted one thing. One person. Bucky. Not the incredibly feared mob boss. Not New York’s most powerful. Just your Bucky. You suggested a night in. Where both of you ordered take out, slipped into your comfiest pajamas, watched some movies, and cuddled.

Unfortunately, date night was too good to be true.

Bucky was late. Two hours late to be exact. It didn’t help that it was the fourth time in a row now. The takeout had gone cold sitting on the counter. The Netflix screen asked if you were still watching. You called him, but each time it went straight to voicemail. Text messages were ‘seen’ with no response from him. You understood Bucky was a busy man and at times work would present itself unexpectedly. However, this date night had been planned for weeks and Bucky knew to at least let you know what’s going on.

Looking at the clock one last time, you decided to clean up everything and go to bed. It didn’t appear that Bucky would be here anytime soon. You were folding the blankets when you accidentally knocked over a picture frame. Picking it up, it was a picture of you and Bucky at your sister’s wedding. You knew you shouldn’t feel this way, but angry tears started to fill your vision. Boiling with rage, you threw the pictured frame across the room, loud glass shattering against the walls. One night. All you asked for was one night with Bucky. And he couldn’t even be here. In an emotional rage, you found every frame of you and Bucky that hung and threw them against the wall. The sound of shattering glass loudly rang through your ears that you failed to hear your front door open.

Bucky knew he was late. You never asked for much and knew how much quality time was important to you. Especially time that you both didn’t have the luxury of. Flowers were not going to fix anything. Bucky hoped the roses would be a first step towards showing how sorry he was. And maybe he’d then show you how really sorry he was in the bedroom. Bucky let himself in with the spare not expecting to see the scenes that were unfolding in front of him. Stepping over the glass, Bucky called out to you, but to no avail you didn’t hear him.

“Doll.” Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, “Please calm down.” He tried placing a kiss on the side of your head, but you quickly turned around and pushed him away. “You’re really scaring me, Baby. What’s going on?”

Was he that dense? What’s wrong?! Angry tears fell as you extended your middle finger towards him. You knew you were being immature, but if you tried to say anything, it was something you didn’t mean.

Bucky threaded a hand through his hair, “You’re acting like a child.” The words fell out his mouth before he could stop them. Your eyes hardened and narrowed. You stood there, fists clenched by your sides, and rolled your shoulders back, glaring at Bucky. “Care to say that again?”

“I’m late, I know. I’m sorr-.”

“Fuck you. Why did you even bother showing up?” You scoff, popping the cap off your beer. “I’m done with all of this James.” You bring the rim to your lips, more tears threatening to fall as you stare at your boyfriend.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the name, his eyes now staring at his shoes. The only times you ever call him ‘James’ are when you’re disappointed. And he hates to disappoint you. Your face was turned to the side, staring out the window, tears staining your cheeks. Even in moments like this, where you’re seething with anger and sadness, Bucky still thinks of you as beautiful. You were the one good thing in his life. And gratitude flowed through him knowing that you were always there, no matter how many times he was late or didn’t show up to date night.

“I hate that I can’t stop loving you.” Bucky’s heart nearly drops at your confession, his now glossy eyes studying you. “Any normal person would have walked away or called quits by now.” You sniffle, fingers playing with the loose threads of your sweater. Bucky quickly strides towards you, his arms pulling you into his chest.

“Are you-please don’t walk away, Doll.” Bucky cradles your face and kisses your lips. “I want...need you in my life sweetheart.”

You pull Bucky’s hand from your face and place a soft kiss on his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. But I can’t keep doing this...this waiting and being disappointed when you’re a no show. I know we’re both busy and that work sometimes is sporadic, but…”

“But what? What? I’ll do whatever you want. Tell me and I’ll do it.” Bucky searches your face for any indication of what you might say, what you might do. The longer you take, the louder he can hear your heart break.

You press your forehead against Bucky’s and softly kiss his lips. “More time. We need to make more time for us. For you and me. None of this waiting for weeks for our schedules to clear up. I need you. And only you.”

Bucky isn’t one to show his emotions, but with you there’s nothing to hide. Tears slowly fall, “I promise...on my life, you and only you, are my priority. My life. I’ll have Steve stand in more of my meetings. Sam, he can take care of the clean ups. And-and Peter, god the kid can-”

Bucky is cut off by your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his head distracts him from what he was saying. You pull away sooner than Bucky likes, a small whine slips through his lips.

“We can figure it out later. But right now I want you in my bed. I think you owe me some cuddles.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader

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amostimprobabledream · 3 years

Text

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."

#Dabi #My Hero Academia #Dabi x Reader #my hero academia #Touya Todoroki #Boku No Hero Academia #BHNA #Fanfiction #Reader-Insert #F!Reader #Demon AU #Supernatural AU #Writing

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softmintmochi · 5 years

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Genre: Angst

Summary: The biggest day of your life is finally here. You've never been happier in your life. Everyone important in your life is here, glad that you're happy.

Jimin's POV

I sigh deeply as I steady myself, my nerves making me feel on edge. Today is the day. Surrounded by my friends, I feel a sense of security. "Are you nervous, Jimin?" Seokjin pats my back soothingly, and I smile up at him. "Of course I'm nervous. What if I do something wrong? Say something wrong?" I ask, my fingers fumbling with my tie. I groan in frustration, and Seokjin takes over for me, tying it perfectly. "You're gonna be fine. We're all going to be there standing right next to you." He assures me. "Yeah, you've got nothing to worry about. Here, maybe this will calm you down." Yoongi says, handing me a flask. I gladly accept it, taking a swig and letting the liquid burn my throat. The door swings open, Namjoon smiling brightly as he raises his hands him the air. "Alright guys, it's time! Let's go get married!" He declares.

The venue is beautiful. I've seen it in pictures about a million times, but pictures can't even begin to compare to the real thing. A spring wedding in the forest. That's always been her dream. She's been planning this since she was a little girl. The trees towered over us, giving us nice shade from the sun's rays. Rows of cushioned seats decorated in lavender ribbon were lined up, facing the alter, which was also laced in ribbon, also pale pink roses poking out. It was absolutely perfect. I walk around, greeting people, ushering people to their seats, waiting anxiously for it to begin. I check my watch, and it's 20 minutes until it starts. I make sure everyone is seated and as soon as they are, I take my place up at the alter, all of my friends around me. I take a deep breath, trying my best to calm myself. It's time.

The music plays, and the doors of the building open. Taehyung rubs my arm that's hidden from view soothingly, trying to calm me down. Everyone turns as she appears, her father locking arms with her as he guides her. Her beautiful fingers wrap around the bouquet of pale pink roses, her veil draped over her face. Even with the veil hiding her, I can still tell she looks absolutely amazing. She always does, of course, but this is a day I've imagined repeatedly, and she looks even more stunning than I could've ever dreamed. The closer she gets, the more nervous I get. My foot taps unconsciously, my fingers fiddling in front of me. She looks at me, smiling before she kisses her father on the cheek, taking her place up on the alter. Her veil is lifted, and I can feel tears pricking my eyes. She's definitely more gorgeous than I could've ever dreamed of. She's perfect.

I remember the first time I saw her. We were just kids, and she sat in my table group, and I would always tug on her hair or tease her. Whenever I did something to her she'd do something right back, and that set they basis of our relationship. For years we teased each other back and forth, and the older we got, I realized my feelings for her. She would always tell me about what she wanted her wedding to be like, and I always promised her I'd make it happen. Even though I knew I loved her, I was always too nervous to tell her. It wasn't until we were 16 that I finally kissed her, and it was the best day of my life. After that happened, we talked about where we stood, our relationship, and how things would play out from then on. A few weeks later I introduced her to my other friends, and she got along with them really well. Maybe if I didn't introduce them, it would've been me standing on that alter with her.

The day after we kissed she came over to my house, sat down on my bed like any other day after school, but she seemed tense, a bit awkward. "Jimin..." She speaks softly, looking down at my floor, and I start to worry. "About last night, I-I don't think it should've happened." Her words are like a knife through my chest. "I'm sorry, but I really don't feel anything romantic towards you. You're my friend. My best friend. I still want to be your best friend." Another knife. I really don't feel anything romantic towards you. The words ring through my ears over and over. All I can do is smile and nod. "Alright then, best friend. No worries." I laugh, and she smiles. "This isn't gonna make things weird between us?" She asks nervously. "Nah, it's all good. I don't want things to be weird between us." I wave my hand, doing a damn good job at hiding my broken heart. "Oh that's great!" She jumps up, running over to hug me, as she's done many times.

Weeks later we were still hanging out after school, like nothing ever happened. I introduced her to some more of my friends, and we all went to hang out at a park, and from the moment she waved at everyone, Namjoon going the extra mile to get up and shake her hand, I knew I was screwed. The more we hung out the closer those two got, his love for literature and music, his morals and ideals and philosophies matching hers. The whole time, all I could do was stand by. Whenever I wanted to say something, do something to show she should be with me and not him, I couldn't. They're perfect for each other, and who am I to try and stop their happiness?

Somehow I managed to stay composed through the whole service, even smiling and patting Namjoon on the back after they kiss. I have to keep it together until I go home. Please, at least until I get home. Everyone goes straight from the service to the reception, the venue being nearby. The happy couple takes a car while the rest of the wedding party splits up between two vans, bridesmaids in one and groomsmen in the other. When we're finally in the confines of the van, a collective sigh spills from our mouths, and I lean forward, my head in my hands. "You did a great job, Jimin." Jin reaches up, patting my back. A round of agreeing hums sounds through the car, and I sniffle while nodding.

"I can't do this right now. I just need to suck it up." I nod, wiping away any tears that escaped. The van pulls up to the venue, and I hope my eyes aren't red. I don't want Y/N to see me sad. We all get out, Going inside and taking our seats at the large table. It takes about 20 minutes for everyone to gather, taking their assigned seats. I smiled as Namjoon sat down next to me, but on the inside, I was falling apart.

Speech time. One of the many moments I had been dreading since I became the best man. I stand, clearing my throat and tapping my glass, getting everyone's attention. As everyone quiets down, all eyes on me, I feel on the verge of breaking again. Its hard, but I keep my cool, smiling out at the crowd. Guess it's go time.

"Hello everyone. For those of you that don't know me, I'm Park Jimin. Now, I've been friends with Y/N and Namjoon for a really long time. I was actually the one that introduced Y/N to Namjoon. Um, I didn't actually write anything for this, I figured I'd just wing it. Let's hope it goes well." I smile, and everyone laughs. "I don't really have much to say, um, I could tell some funny stories about each of them, God knows I have so much dirt. But, I won't do that. As I look around the room, and saw the service, I can tell you personally that this is absolutely Y/N's dream wedding. Trust me, she told me for years every little detail of what she wanted. Everything looks perfect, and she truly deserves it. Namjoon and Y/N, I knew from the moment I introduced you that you guys were perfect for each other, and I'm really glad you guys are happy. You both are amazing people that deserve only the best. I know it's short, but like I said, probably should've prepared something. I don't think it really takes much to get my point across though. These two are amazing together, and I hope you guys have an amazing future together."

Everyone claps, Namjoon hugging me as Y/N smiles at me. I take my seat, and all the other speeches are done. Mine probably sucked the most, but at this point, I don't really care. I'm just glad it's over with. After the speeches everyone eats and mingles, the music starts to play, everyone hitting the dance floor. The main dances take place, then everyone starts to dance together. Even though dancing is my passion, I decide to stand to he side, watching Y/N as Namjoon spins her around, holding her close to him. She looks so happy, it puts a smile on my face. All I've ever wanted was for her to be happy, and she is.

After a bit, she notices me, waving me over. I put my hands up, shaking my head, but she comes closer, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. I groan in defeat as I start dancing, her sweet laugh ringing through my ears. She's having so much fun. A slower song comes on, and I get bold, holding my hand out to her. "Namjoon, you mind if I take this dance?" I ask my friend, and he smiles. "Nah man, go ahead. I'm gonna dance with my mom." He smiles, patting me on the back. Y/N takes my hand, and I pull her close, my hand resting on her back.

"So, are you having fun yet?" She asks. "Yeah, I am. It's a great wedding. You guys did an amazing job." I smile at her. She beams, and I'm so glad it's finally because of something I did. "You were there to help a lot. I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you." She chuckles. Best friend. That's right. Even now, as her hand is in mine, holding her close to me, I'm still the best friend. All I can do is nod and smile, focusing on keeping composed. Apparently, it doesn't work. "Jimin? You okay?" She asks softly, rubbing my bicep soothingly. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" I smile, hoping it helps. "Chim, I've known you since we were five, I think I can tell when something's bothering you." She scoffs. All I do is nod, not saying anything.

It's takes a few moments, until she speaks again. "Is it because of-" "Y/N." I cut her off before she can say more. "Are you happy? Really happy with Namjoon?" I ask. She nods, looking up at me. "Then that's all that matters. I'm happy you're happy." I smile, rubbing her back. She nods, understanding that I don't want to talk about it anymore. The song ends, and Namjoon comes over. "Jimin, mind if I steal my wife back?" He beams. "Of course. Go ahead. I think I might be heading out soon anyway." I say, patting him on the back. "Wait what?" Y/N asks. "Leaving already?" Namjoon says. I smile at both of them. "Yeah, I'm exhausted. I'll see you guys when you get back from the honeymoon?" I ask. "Yeah. Alright then. Rest up, bud." Namjoon nods, patting my arm. Y/N reaches over, giving me a hug. "Thank you Jimin. For everything." She whispers. I pull back and smile at them before waving. I say goodbye to the guys and then wait outside for my cab. I'll be home soon. Finally.

As soon as I'm safe in my home, I close the door with my back, sighing deeply. I slide down the door, and as my bottom hits the floor, I lose it. I hug my knees to my chest, sobbing loudly. I've kept it together for so long, and everything is gushing out now. I'm glad she's happy, but why couldn't it be with me? I'm a good guy. I could make her happy. I'd treat her like the queen that she is. I'd give here everything she's ever wanted and everything she deserves. My body shakes as I sob. I'll never have a chance. I just hope Namjoon treats her right. He's a good guy, so I hope he keeps her safe and happy. I'm glad she's happy.

#bts #bts jimin #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #jimin #park jimin #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts park jimin

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