#there was a wall and a doorframe and some imperfections on the door i got rid of as well

[lev-eye-athan]

soon ;)

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Katsuki Bakugou X Reader - Fluffy oneshot about cuddling

My very first fanfic, so I'm open to constructive criticism! here goes nothing.

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"come here"

It was a text from Katsuki. That was odd, seeing as it was rather late for him. You yourself were just about to settle down for the night, switching off the lights in your dorm room and shimmying under the covers, only to get the text as you plugged your phone in. You texted him back, responding with "why?" 

The little dots signifying typing popped up, staying for a few seconds, disappearing, reappearing, and then leaving again. Finally, after what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, he simply typed back, "Because." How eloquent. It made you wonder what he really wanted to say and why he didn't want to tell you.

You lay there for a moment, contemplating whether or not to get up. It was a rare experience to have Katsuki ask for your presence so openly, but on the other hand…your bed was warm, begging you to stay, coaxing you with the many blankets and pillows. You sighed, reaching for your phone and texting him back, "You come here."

The sass was almost palatable. You set your phone back down, snuggling up under the covers and waiting for it to ping with a response. What you didn't expect was some heavy stomping from the room across from yours, Katsuki's room, followed closely by his door swinging open, then yours. He was standing in your doorframe, scowling at you.

"When I say come here, it means come here, idiot." He towered over your bed, his arms crossed over his most worn nightshirt in the winter, a plain black short sleeve.

He kept stern eye contact for a moment, using it as a way to silently assert dominance. Finally, after a few seconds, he scowled harder and walked around your bed to you. It seems like you won; he was going to get in bed with you and stay there, adding to the warmth and allowing you peaceful slumber. At least, that's what you thought, which made it all the more surprising when he ripped away the blankets, scooped you up, and tossed you over his shoulder. "Wa- Katsuki! Put me down," you ordered, kicking your legs a little as he walked back to his room nonchalantly.

You loved his room, almost as much as you loved your own. It smelled like him, like musk and burnt caramel, and it was neat and tidy. manga series' (in full, he hates missing books) and educational works lined his bookshelves, his desk had pens and pencils in little cups with workbooks open to the homework this week, his closet had clothes and shoes hung and set neatly on their respective hangers and shelves, along with mountain climbing gear, and most importantly, his bed was pressed into the corner of the room, with grey sheets and a navy blue blanket and pillows. It used to be just the one pillow, but recently he bought a second one because of how often you spent the night. not that he told you about it, that was information you had to figure out yourself. There was a lot of that with Katsuki.

"Fine," he huffed, a twinge of amusement in his voice as he tossed you onto his bed like a ragdoll. He had that malicious smirk on his face and a glint of playfulness in his eyes. "You seem proud of yourself," you said pointedly, making yourself comfortable in his bed. At least it was warm, still heated from him lying in it. The thought made you a little giddy—the idea that you'd be snuggled up with your perfectly imperfect boyfriend for the rest of the night.

"So what if I am?" He got into bed, pushing you out of the center and towards the wall. He lay between you and the door, his back to the "exit" of the bed, as if he were both protecting you and keeping you from leaving.

"You shouldn't be, kidnapping me from my room," you pouted sarcastically back. He grumbled, pulling you into him so that you were spooning tight against one another, and immediately responded, "If you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be." While technically true, he also didn't give much of a choice. There was a moment of silence, his breathing and yours slowing calmly, his face pressed into your neck. You could feel his breath from his nose fan across your collarbone, his lips against the more sensitive area of your neck.

"…Kat, why'd you wanna cuddle tonight?" It was a simple question, but one he wasn't expecting you to ask. He didn't have an answer for you, not one that he was willing to give, so he dodged the question almost entirely.

"Can't you just enjoy it," he grumbled, his thumb gently gliding back and forth against the back of your hand as he engulfed it with his. His other hand slid under you, wrapping around your waist and under your nightshirt, so he could feel your stomach. His hands were so calloused, given his quirk, but the texture was kind of nice.

You decided to drop it this time, mumbling "whatever," because you didn't have the energy to force information out of him. All you knew was that he needed you, that he felt your presence was necessary for him in that moment. Right then, in the silence of the room, moonlight dripping in past the curtains and illuminating so little, he mumbled back, "I love you," against your skin, almost hoping you didn't hear it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

New Duties

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, cheating, fuck machine, toys, tied up.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky’s wife is never around as much as the maid.

Based on these drabble requests:

Bucky Barnes + “If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought.” + Maid AU + Bucky is rich and married too, but his wife is never in the house so he decide have fun with the naive maid. 

Bucky Barnes + “You really think this is over?” + Fuck machine + honestly just the reader being tied up and left with a fuck machine and some overstimulation.

Both requested by anons.

The large house was often empty when you went there. You had a key on a tag and the alarm code written on it. You showed up in your black pants and matching shirt and let yourself in as you always did. You tied on your apron and looked around as you went over the work in your head. 

It was hard not to be envious of the grandiose abode. Hard not to feel bitter at all the money spent on the place and yet it seemed the resident never enjoyed it. They hired a maid, you, to clean the table they never ate at and make the bed which was the only lived-in part of the place.

You started on the lower floor as usual. Living room, dining room, kitchen, the office, the foyer, and the parlor dedicated to a carved pool table and shelves of expensive sculptures. You climbed the stairs and set off down the hall of unused rooms. There wasn’t much more to do than dust and check that the sheets didn’t smell musty.

As you approached the master bedroom, you stopped short as the door opened and you were met by one of the elusive owners of the mansion. You saw Bucky Barnes more than his wife but your run-ins were still rare. And you’d never seen him like this. You were embarrassed and off-centre as you were surprised to find him there.

He wore only a pair of silky pajama bottoms and his hair was amess, sticking out at all angles. His muscles moved under his skin as he rubbed his eyes and smiled at you. His voice was thick with drowsiness and he cleared his throat.

“Hey,” he said, “thought I heard someone.”

“I didn’t know you were here, sir,” you glanced around. It was late for him to be sleeping still.

“I took the red-eye home,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you chuckled nervously, “I can come back when--”

“You sure?” he batted away the last of his tiredness with his lashes and leaned on the doorframe, “you almost jumped out of your shoes.”

“Uh, yeah,” you assured him and started to turn back.

“It’s fine, I’m up now,” he stopped you, “I’m gonna have a coffee…” he caught up to you and brushed by you, facing you as he blocked your path, “bedroom is all yours.”

You fidgeted as his eyes flicked away from your face for just and instant but you didn’t think much of it as the apron hid made your figure lumpy and vague. You nodded and gave another yes, sir. He watched you until you spun back and headed for the bedroom. You felt his gaze until you slipped inside and let out your breath at the rumpled blankets. 

You heard him descend the stairs and set down your bucket of supplies. You went to the bed and fixed his side of it. You could smell his sweat on the sheets still. Then you began to wipe down the edges of the tables and inspected for any inch of imperfection.

“Looks good in here,” his voice spooked you again. Bucky stepped inside and set his tall coffee mug on the polished table beside the door. “I’m glad I caught you, I did have a special request.”

“Oh?” you stilled the cloth and twisted it in your grip. You watched his metal arm as he he rubbed his middle finger with his thumb.

“Here,” he crossed the room and waved you over, “it’s a bit of a secret but… I haven’t had the time to take care of it myself.”

You watched as he went to the bookshelf on the far wall and he reached behind the gilded globe. He spun it slightly but you could see what exactly he was doing. There was a shift and the shelf lurched forward. He carefully pushed it over until the edge met the corner and a small doorway appeared.

Your eyes rounded in confusion and he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder, “our little secret,” he said, “I figured since you’re here…”

“I… yes, sir,” you neared as he waited, his hand on the shelf, and as you stepped by him, he quickly followed, so close you could feel his body heat.

You stopped short as he flipped on the light. A red haze cast over the hidden room. You were shocked, almost laughing in disbelief as your brain spun to process what you were seeing; leather cuffs hung from the wall on one side and a leather bench sat center with similar bounds, there was even a sex swing dangling from the ceiling. You never expected that but really, you tried not to think about your clients intimate habits.

The shelf shifted behind you and the room grew dimmer, only the scarlet shadows of the tinted bulb remained. You turned back to Bucky.

“My stuff,” you pointed to the wall behind him. There was no visible mechanism and that made you nervous.

“Oh, well, you see, I haven’t had a chance to use any of this,” he shrugged and stepped closer. You inch backwards and dropped the cloth as his hands settled on your upper arms, “Ilona’s never here, I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Mr. Barnes,” you winced as his vibranium hand squeezed, “I should get back to my--”

“The house is spotless. I only pay you because my wife can’t be bothered to lift a finger herself or even be around,” he said.

“Please, I should go,” you gulped, “I think you, uh, you…”

“Fine, go,” he moved out of your way and smirked at the wall, “if you want to, go.”

You looked between him and the smooth wall. You neared it and shoved on it. It didn’t move. You felt all along it, searching for anything that might trigger a response. There was nothing there.

“Can you--” you began to ask but stopped as he pressed himself to your back.

He tugged at the knot of your apron and it fell loose. His hands crawled up your back and he lifted the strap over your head. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him.

“Thought you were going,” he taunted.

“Let me out,” you tremored.

“I said go, so…” he gestured to the wall.

“I can’t--”

He snickered and pulled you with him as he walked backwards. “It’s just a little fun,” he purred, “for both of us.”

“No, I-- you’re married--”

“My wife, if you can call her that, hasn’t touched me in a year, probably more,” he pulled at the hem of your shirt, “so this is as much her decision as mine.”

“No, Mr. Barnes, I--”

“Listen,” he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you, “you can be a good little maid and do what you’re told or I can report you to the agency for stealing.”

“What, I never--”

“Maybe a few of Ilona’s necklaces go missing or a few bills out of my wallet,” he growled, “we’ll see who they believe.”

“Please--”

“It’s time you start earning that tip,” he turned and thrust you towards the low bench, “now get undressed and lay down on your stomach.”

“Mr--”

“I have a gag. I have several if you want to choose,” he warned, “even if I’d rather hear that sweet voice calling my name.”

“Why are you--”

“I won’t tell you again,” he barked as he crossed his arms and paced. 

You noticed how the front of his pants tented and you slowly neared the bench. It was all so jarring, you didn’t know what else to do but obey. You couldn’t leave and you were certain if you tried, he would lose all patience. You peeked over as his metal fist tightened and a chill went through you.

You pulled off your shirt and kept your eyes down. You rolled down your pants and took your time untying your sneakers. You hesitated to strip off your underwear but a gristly breath made you wince and you added them to the pile of clothes. 

You were cold but your flesh burned as you sensed his close attention to your every move. You got down on the bench, the leather icy against your chest, and stared at the floor. Bucky walked around behind you and framed your ass with his hands as he stood over you. He pushed your thighs apart until your legs bent over the side of the bench and the cool air tickled your cunt.

“Hmmm,” he mused as he flicked his finger along your folds, “I can’t decide what I want first.”

An overwhelming wave of panic shook you and you tried to push yourself up. His hand slapped down on the middle of your back and he held you down. He tutted and reached down to slip your wrist into a leather cuff and tightened it until you whined. He ignored your struggles as he did the same to your other arm and your ankles. You straddled the bench as he pushed himself up and groped your ass again.

“Why are you making this hard?” he asked, “you’re already spread for me.”

“Please…”

He sighed and you heard his bare feet on the floor as he marched away from you. He came back around you and knelt to force the ball gag into your mouth and buckled it behind your head. Your eyes glistened as you watched him desperately and breathed heavy through your nose.

“We have a lot to do,” he touched your chin, “you need the proper training.”

You tried to talk past the gag but it only came out as muffled gibberish and your saliva soaked the gag. 

“If you think I feel bad for you, you’re more pathetic than I thought,” he chuckled and stood, rubbing the front of his pants, “guess you’ll have to wait for it.”

He left your eye line again, even as you craned your neck around. He was quick to huff and stomp back to your. He took the collar that hung from the front of the bench and secured it around your neck so you could stare at your impossible escape.

You heard something rolling behind you and metal fasteners being loosened then tightened. His fingers scared you as he touched your cunt and felt around for your clit. He teased you until you tilted your pelvis in response. You moaned around the gag as your thighs quivered. Despite your fear, it felt wonderful.

He played with you until you were wet and then you heard the same wheels. You felt a prod at your entrance, a hard silicone tip slowly slid into you until you were full. You gasped and choked as he pulled away his hand entirely. You heard a soft click then a whir and the dildo began to move, your cunt sucking at it loudly as you grew wet around it. He reached under you and a new buzz began as he placed a vibrator against your bud.

He rounded you again, his pants were gone and his hand glied up and down his dick. He watched you with fiery eyes as you tried to hold back. The flames licked from your core and crawled along your thighs and back. You shuddered and your eyes rolled back as your voice droned sloppily as the gag made you drool.

You came in defeat and hung your head. You gasped and gulped for air and your entire body tensed and released, but he didn’t stop it. The vibe kept buzzing on your clit and he only turned the machine up so that it fucked you harder and faster. You wined and rolled your head back and forth.

Another orgasm strangled you and your muscles ached from the tension as it snapped again. You lost count as the red light glared through your eyelids and a sheen of sweat coated your body. Breathless and battered, you could only twitched as you were rocked by climax after climax.

And then it all stopped. The machine shut off and the dildo was slid out of you, your thighs sticky and sore. The vibrator stilled and slipped from under you and you groaned. There was a moment of peace as your heart slowed and then a slap across your ass made you yipe.

“You really think this is over?” Bucky asked as he got behind you and bent over you. His tip pressed against your entrance and his hot breath bristled against your scalp, “I’ve only just begun.”

🧹🧹🧹

Please reblog and leave some feedback if you enjoyed.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Times Two

Your husband is cloned by a quirk and you just so happen to love that. So what do you do? The only thing that makes sense, of course. 

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sex (anal and vaginal), DP, foreplay, blowjob, throat fucking, vulgar phrases and words Words:   4681 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki (x2) x Fem! Reader

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s a bit confusing to tell the difference between clone and real Bakugou. I have it set up like Bakugou = Real. Katsuki = Clone. The reader specifies it as well to try and clear some stuff up. But yeah, this is the naughtiest thing I’ve written in a while and I took some risks, hopefully it works out and y’all enjoy it! Don’t forget to read past the “Read More”! 

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Edit: I forgot to add the anon that requested and inspired this lovely idea, I’m sorry! Thank you so much for sending this in! (⋟﹏⋞)

Being married to the explosive Bakugou Katsuki, there is very little that surprises you. That man, as hot headed and rough around the edges as he could be, was always surprising you in one way or another in the forms of sentimental gestures and words that no other person alive was ever meant to hear. Along with being married to him, you were more involved in the life of pro heros than you ever really expected to be, as in his late twenties, he was very quickly becoming a prominent name and popular icon. A new quirk or odd behavior was always expressed to you by him when he arrived home, as he always had something new to rant about. But this… this was not something that you were familiar with. The fact that you were staring at two sets of glaring crimson eyes made you almost feel faint, tempted to shut the door and reopen it just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. 

“Katsuki…” You stared up at the one you assumed to be the original, as he was dressed in the clothes he had left in that morning, while the other was in some outfit you had never seen before. “Why… What- I mean… There are two of you.” You gestured from one to the other and back again with an accusatory pointed finger, gaining an annoyed and almost simultaneous click of the tongue from both blondes before you. 

“No shit.” The original barked in an annoyed huff, placing a rough hand on your arm to urge you out of the way so they could enter. You followed direction, watching them shuffle in through the door before shutting and locking it into place. 

“How are there two of you? Why are there two of you? Which is the real one?” 

“I am!” With a point to his own face, Bakugou glowered down at you, the familiar snarl and wedding ring on his finger calming your initial fears. The other Bakugou, who stood awkwardly off to the side, wasn’t wearing a ring and he also gave off a different… energy to the original. It was obvious that he was confused and out of place, though he glanced around at both the environment and at you with a sense of familiarity. Before you could really even say anything else, your husband snatched you by the arm and dragged you off to a different room, making you stumble over your feet for a second before catching your footing. 

“No need to drag me around Katsuki—” 

Bakugou brought a finger to his lips, hushing you with an urgency that spiked a bit of annoyance in you. All you knew at this point was that he had better start explaining himself quickly before you got frustrated, and the look on your face must have told him that as he began to spill his guts to you. 

“Sorry. Look, while I was out at a call, a villain touched me and used their quirk on me to try and catch me off guard. It didn’t work, but it did make him. He is literally me, down to memories and feelings. We have to get rid of him!” 

A frown crossed your lips as you glanced out of the doorway, seeing the clone wander about while looking at pictures along the wall. “He’s… not having like a crisis or something? I’m surprised he’s not upset.” 

Bakugou shook his head, letting his hands fall down your arms to tenderly hold your hands. “After the villain was caught, she explained her quirk… They may be exactly like me, but they won’t ever realize they’re going to fuck off when they fall asleep. Fuck off as in… turn into a doll. And even though he has all my memories and shit he’s… very compliant.” 

“Hm… When he falls asleep he’s gonna turn into a doll? Why don’t we just let him hang around until night time, and he’ll go to sleep. I don’t want you to attack him and knock him out or anything… That’s so mean.” You squeezed his fingers as you tried to have him understand your point of view. “If he’s literally you, then he probably feels really comfortable here. What a shame for his final moments of existence to be fear or pain.” 

Bakugou glowered down at you, obviously annoyed with your empathy. “So what, you want to invite him to have dinner and watch TV with us and share our bed?” 

“It’s technically his bed, too. He’s you.” You gave a very nonchalant shrug, ignoring the frustrated furrow of your lovers brow. “I don’t want you to hurt him. We should make his only day alive something enjoyable. Let’s go talk to him.” 

“Babe—” Bakugou sighed as you walked away from him, towards the clone that instantly peered down at you curiously. He seemed genuinely happy at the smile on your face, and though you could tell he wanted to, he was reluctant to touch you. Fiddling with your nails as you came to stand in front of him, you gave a small cough to clear your throat, glancing back at the real Bakugou as he glared at you from his spot learning against the doorframe. 

“So, uhm…” You began, turning your attention to the Bakugou in front of you. “Things can get a little confusing I think, so… How about I call you Katsuki, and him Bakugou.” As you addressed them, you gestured to them, feeling your cheeks flush a bit at how ridiculous you sounded. “I’m used to calling him Katsuki, but it’ll be okay for now. I’ll try not to get you mixed up. Deal?” You glanced back again at Bakugou who merely shrugged in an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ manner, while Katsuki in front of you gave a calm nod. 

“Sure, [Name]. I, oh fuck, sorry—” Having unconsiciously placed his hand on your arm, Katsuki quickly pulled it away as you gave a small flinch in surprise. With this, you saw a flash of confusion and defeat across his face, as if he hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Well, of course he hadn’t. To him, you were his lover, his wife and you loved each other fiercely. Physical touch was important between you and Bakugou, and so you knew that it was just as important to Katsuki. Still, you felt conflicted yourself. You could feel the tension from behind you, fuming off of your husband like it was a tangible object. A clone of himself or not, you knew that he wasn’t going to just let another man touch you.

Deciding to change the subject, you motioned towards the bedroom with a small nod of your head, prompting Katsuki to follow you. “Come on. How about you both get comfortable and we can, uhm… Make dinner, I guess.” 

Bakugou pushed himself up off the doorframe, entering the room before either of you. “I get my tank and shorts, got it?!” 

Katsuki scoffed, reaching behind him to pull his shirt up and over his head. “Whatever, I don’t give a fuck, I’m not going to fight with myself over clothes.” 

“Hey, hey, chill. Please.” You placed a hand on Bakugou’s arm to calm him, though by the click of his tongue you got in response, it didn’t work. “You have plenty of clothes to share. Just pick an outfit.” At this point, you already felt like you were babysitting, taking a step back as the two grown men bickered over what comfortable clothes the other wanted. Though, their huffing and puffing wasn’t really what was on your mind. Looking at them, both shirtless now, you felt a heat spread through your cheeks and down to your toes. You had two versions of your husband in your house, both of them who knew who you were and loved you equally. One was definitely in a better mood than the other, but that only made it better. 

You couldn’t stop the thoughts and visions flashing through your mind of both men pleasuring you from all sides, one fucking you from behind while the other made you gag on his cock. They were identical, down to the scars and minute imperfections on their skin. You couldn’t resist the sinful thoughts, especially as they continued stripping and changing. The instant Katsuki’s gaze landed on you, catching you staring, you took in a breath and shuffled away, mumbling something about having to go to the restroom. Shutting the door a bit too loudly, you leaned against it, placing a hand on your chest as you tried to calm your heavy breathing and racing heart. 

You almost lost it there, [Name]. You gotta calm down, there’s no way the original is gonna fall for a threesome. But this is a once in a lifetime thing! To be fucked by double Katsuki’s… What a dream— 

There was a sudden rough knock on the door, startling you so badly that you almost screamed out loud. Heart now racing even worse, you took a few deep breaths, opening the door to peek out. You could instantly see that it was Bakugou, his wedding ring gleaming against the light as his hand came to rest on the door. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, babe?” 

Opening up the door just a bit more, you allowed him to stand halfway inside so you could whisper to each other. You kept yourself close to him, tenderly caressing his upper arm as you let out a trembling breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… This is a lot to take in all the sudden in a… different way.” 

“Different way?” With a cocked eyebrow, he glanced over your body, noticing the timid stance and erect nipples behind the thin cloth of your t-shirt. Your flushed face and pounding heartbeat were dead giveaways as well, though instead of his usual smirk at realizing your current state, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you horny?!” 

“Shh!” You reached up and covered his mouth, standing on your tiptoes to look out and make sure you weren’t being listened to. “Don’t say it so loud.” 

“So you are.” Bakugou continued when you removed your hand, giving a small shrug. “Well let me in there, we’ll fuck real quick and get to— ah, wait!” Now, he shoved himself the rest of the way inside, shutting the door behind him. In the same moment, he pressed you up against it, forcing a gasp from your lips as his leg wedged firmly into place between yours. He liked to do this, pin you up against whatever solid surface he could and tease the hell out of you, until you were writhing and begging for him to fuck you. Though, this was a bit different, as his glare showed little signs of the typical lust you were familiar with seeing. 

“You little slut. You want to fuck both of us, don’t you?” With your hard swallow and guilty gaze, a smirk finally crossed his lips, gripping your chin to force you to look up at him. “I should've known you were going to be like that. You’re so obsessed with the way I fuck you, there’s no way you wouldn’t want it from two of me. What were you thinking, hm? A cock in your ass and your cunt?” His hand began to travel down your body, teasing you with just a hit of that rough touch you craved. “Like hell I’m going to share you with anyone, not even a version of myself.” 

“Why not, Katsuki?” Your eyes darted from his face down his his hips, able to see his erect member pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants. “It would be fun. And so sexy… imagine me, kneeling on the floor, face covered in your cum. Letting you take turns fucking my throat.” Clutching onto his shirt tightly with one hand, you let the other slip between your bodies, slowly and firmly palming his member through the fabric of his bottoms. “You’re already rock hard thinking about it.” 

“You think you could handle it?” Bakugou pressed his leg further up between yours to press against your sex, prompting you to eagerly grind your hips. “I leave you ruined just on my own. I don’t think you’d be able to take it. You’d be begging for mercy.” 

“You underestimate me, love. The only thing I’d be begging for is more.” You tugged him in closer, catching his lips in a heated kiss. In that same second, you were in his arms, pressed up against the door. Keeping yourself latched to him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, you sighed softly at the feeling of his member pressing into your sex, wishing despirately to feel him inside you. While one arm kept you firmly in position, the other hand was free to roam, his rough and calloused palm sliding up your bare thigh. His touch was like fire, telling you just how seriously turned on he was, too. Just maybe you could get him to agree… after letting him have a little fun on his own first. 

“Please,” you moaned breathlessly into the kiss, reaching down between your bodies to slip his manhood free from his clothes. “I need to feel you inside me. Right now.” As you moved your poor excuse for pajama shorts and underwear side, Bakugou complied, shifting your body just enough to slip himself inside you. You felt every inch of your body tingle in excitement and pleasure, your heart racing at the sound of his groan against your cheek. He may have teased you about being obsessed with the way he made love to you, but you knew that he was just as addicted. Even though he put on a tough show, you could easily make him do whatever you begged for, like he was wrapped around your little finger. A simple touch or glance could have him immediately wanting you, and now that you had him this far, you knew that you could weasel your way into adding another cock to the party. 

You didn’t have much time to contemplate exactly how you would pull that off, distracted as he began to thrust his hips, fucking you at a rough and hard pace that made the wooden door at your back sqeak and rattle with each movement. Every inch of him vanished within your depths with each stroke, fogging your mind to everything but the irresistible pleasure. You were so engrossed, in fact, that you didn’t hear footsteps approaching the door from the other side, only able to focus on Bakugou’s lips and teeth against your skin. 

Suddenly, you felt an emptiness at your back and a wash of cold air swallow you both as the door to the restroom was swung open rapidly. With a squeal from your lips and a sharp inhale from Bakugou, you began to tumble backwards at the loss of support. Though, just as soon as it had gone, it was back again, though the presence that you found your back against was more familiar and warm than the cold wooden door. You were now pressed against Katsuki’s chest, his hands gripping onto your upper arms tightly to support the weight of both of you. 

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Bakugou barked at his mirror image, glaring at Katsuki over the top of your head. “Get that smirk off your face asshole, who the fuck invited you?!” 

“[Name] did. You think I didn’t hear you two talking in there or could tell what she was thinking?” Katsuki’s hands slid under your arms, gripping and squeezing your breasts roughly. You couldn’t resist a soft gasp, the mutual feeling of Bakugou inside you and now Katsuki’s hands on you making your head swim. ��I saw her staring at us. Just like you, I know exactly what she wanted. And you weren’t exactly subtle, fucking against the door like that. It’s like you wanted me to notice.” 

Trembling, you clutched onto Bakugou’s shoulders tightly, lightly rocking your hips to move him within you. “You two stop fighting and just fuck me already!” 

Bakugou complied without a moment's hesitation, using Katsuki’s leverage to keep you stable. Your voice squeaked out in pleasure as you laid your head back, catching Katsuki’s gaze. The lust in his crimson glare was so clear, feeling a heat rush to your face as he smirked against your cheek, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “That’s it, babe,” He hissed in your ear, making your heart flutter violently. His other hand left your breast and vanished elsewhere for a moment, and you could only hope that he was preparing himself for what you wanted most. “You’re such a naughty little bitch. Tell me what you want.” 

As Katsuki’s lips came to hover near yours, you could feel it, the hard presence of his cock against your ass as it bounced with Bakugou’s thrusts. The fire inside you began to swell, unable to tear your eyes away from your lovers clone and his hypnotizing crimson glare. “I-I want you both! I want your cock in my ass— ah!” Your voice squeaked as Bakugou increased his speed and roughness, pulling your attention to him.

“Beg harder, babygirl. Beg like the cock hungry slut you are!” 

You knew exactly how he wanted you to talk, how filthy he wanted you to be, and it wasn’t something you were going to resist. “P-please, fuck me in my cunt and my ass! Fill me up and use me!” 

Again, your pathetic excuse for clothing was moved aside, with Bakugou pausing just long enough to let Katsuki sink his length into your ass. You and Bakugou were no strangers to anal sex, so it wasn’t as if that was what shocked you. No, it was the feeling being completely full, not a single inch of you untouched. There was new pleasures you had never felt before, the heat inside you almost unbearable, and yet, you loved it. Pressed between these two men, who were alike in every sense of the word, cocooned you in warmth, bringing an odd sense of sleepiness to your mind. That is, until they began to move, very quickly finding a rhythm. They didn’t alternate like you expected. Instead, they matched each others pace, making you melt into puddy in their hands. 

Trapped in their arms, you couldn’t move, only able to anchor yourself to something with your hands, which clutched onto Bakugou’s shirt and shoulders. Just from the look on his face, you could tell that it felt different for him as well, though in what way you couldn’t really imagine. All you cared about was the fact that he was enjoying it, and so was Katsuki from the groans and soft curses you heard near your ear. Within no time, you could feel it, the pleasure building into a ball in your core, until it exploded in a rush of moans, trembling and uncontrollable jerks of your body. 

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it,” Katsuki purred in your ear, both men having to stop from the pressure of your contracting walls. “You’re such a good girl.” Through your panting and soft gasps, Katsuki turned your head with a push of his thumb, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth instantly, forcing you into that submission that you loved and leaving you breathless. 

“She’s gotten off too easy,” Bakugou huffed, removing himself from inside you and leaving you aching for his return. “Put her ass on the bed.” 

Complying, Katsuki released your lips and removed himself from you as well, taking on the full weight of your body to walk you over to the bed. Dropping you onto the mattress, you bounced with the impact, gazing up at both men expectantly. Smirk on his lips, Bakugou removed his shirt, coming to stand at the side of the bed. Without questioning or waiting for instruction, you scooted your body closer, instantly taking his hard and throbbing cock into your mouth as you rolled over onto your stomach. Propping yourself up on your arms, you lovingly tended to his member, running your tongue along the underside and stroking him with that firm grip you knew he loved. With a pleasured sigh, Bakugou ran his fingers through your hair, stopping at the base of your head to apply pressure to keep you from going anywhere. 

Taking a curious glance up at his face, you could instantly tell why, his gaze following Katsuki as he climbed onto the bed behind you. Eager hands gripped your ass, squeezing and spreading you open, even though you still had your shorts and underwear on. “What a filthy little slut you are, drenched through your clothes like that.” A hard smack to your ass followed his words, making you squeak and unconsciously take Bakugou’s cock deeper into your mouth. After another rough slap, your clothes were pulled down, leaving you exposed to him. The chill of the room was short lived as he slipped his cock between your legs, urging you to squeeze them together before he began thrusting his hips. The way his cock stroked against your clit sent tingles across your skin, your moans muffled by the dick in your mouth. The more pleasure you received, the more you gave, turning Bakugou into his own panting and grunting mess. 

Eventually, with a tight grip of your hair, you knew what was about to happen. Removing your hands from him, you kept your mouth and head loose for him, allowing him to thrust his hips. He was going slow at first, like he usually did, soaking in the feeling of his tip pressing into the back of your throat. You could barely register the sounds coming from behind you, merely following direction as you were told to squeeze your thighs together tighter. 

Bakugou scoffed, glaring at his clone with a smug smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong, you fucker? About to cum already?” 

You gave a muffled squeal as Katsuki increase the roughness of his thrusts, feeling yourself about to peak again just from the stroking of your clit. “Whether you’re in or not, she’s going to be covered in cum by the time I’m done with her. I’ll cum as many times as I fucking feel like.” With a shuddering of your body as you came, you were given some reprieve from the cock in your mouth to breathe, fighting between coughing and moaning as you stroked Bakugou’s length in the meantime. As you were still cumming, you felt a hot release all over your legs, listening as Katsuki grunted with his own release. It coated your thighs and cunt, surprising you a bit with how much there seemed to be. With a heavy sigh, Katsuki took a moment to recover, spreading his cum across your pussy with his thumb. “What a pretty sight.” 

Before you could even think of a response, Bakugou forced his cock back into your mouth, fucking your throat at his own pace and roughness. You couldn’t even react to the sudden feeling of Katsuki’s cock sinking into your pussy, fucking you from behind at an equally rough pace. It was exactly as you had imagined, a mixture of pleasure and pain that had your eyes rolling back, once again completely at their mercy. Every inch of your body felt more sensitive than it ever had before, even your nipples as they scraped against the fabric of your shirt enough to add to the pleasure. 

“You want my cum all over your face, babygirl? Or do you want to swallow it?” Bakugou didn’t give you any chance to even answer, coming to his own conclusion just from the pleading furrow of your brow and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to feel it on your skin, to have him dirty you up as his counterpart had. You wanted to feel the heat of his essence on you, to watch his face as he jacked off on your face. So, that is what you received, with Bakugou removing himself from your mouth at the last moments. He gave you just enough time to open your mouth wide, catching what little bit of his cum on your tongue that you could while your body rocked with Katsuki’s thrusts. 

Leaning his head back as he came, Bakugou’s smirk spread, watching your body for a moment before he gripped your chin, giving Katsuki a quick glance that told him to stop. The clone did so, slowly removing himself from within you before filling you back up again in slow and teasing thrusts. Using his thumb, Bakugou spread his cum across your cheek and to your lips, allowing you to lick and suck it off his fingers. 

“You like the taste of my cum, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” You answered breathlessly, staring up at him through blurry and teary vision. “I love it. I love your cum—” Your voice hitched as Katsuki removed himself from your pussy, sinking his cock instead into your ass as deep as it would go. Once done, he grabbed your arms and shifted your positions, laying down as he pulled your body back against his. Understanding, you kept your legs open and displayed, panting as you smiled up at Bakugou. 

“C’mon, love. I want you both to fuck me until you’ve had enough. I told you I could take it.” 

And so you did, for hours you were treated how you had wanted to be, subdued and ravaged until your limbs were sore and body was sticky with cum and sweat. Both men had plenty to give and were just as eager to pleasure you, giving you everything you had ever wanted out of the experience. When you finally had enough was in the shower, as Bakugou enjoyed using the strongest setting of the removable shower head on your clit while they both fucked you mercilessly. You were positive that you had never had such a powerful orgasm, even sure that your mind had gone black for a few seconds as you came, pressed between their bodies just like when you had started. 

Now cleaned and so worn out you couldn’t quite move your legs, Bakugou carried you to the bed once dried off, shoving the dirtied comforter off the bed to leave mostly clean sheets for you to lay on. As he sat you down, he softly moved some hair out of your face, kissing your lips sweetly. “How was that, you stupid girl? Got your fill?” 

Smiling, you shook your head, gaining a confused cock of his eyebrow. With a wave of your arm to call Katsuki over as well, you patted both sides of the bed. “I want double cuddles.” 

“At the same time?” Both men huffed in similar tones simultaneously, making you giggle. 

“Yes! C’mon, lay with me.” 

Giving each other annoyed glances, both of them crawled into bed on either side of you. While you stayed on your back, they both squeezed in close, with Bakugou’s face resting in your hair while Katsuki pressed his lips against your cheek, showering you in soft and gentle kisses. Your heart fluttered from the sweet affection of both men, feeling for the moment that you were the luckiest woman in the world. Even if it was just for the evening, having two living version of your husband there to love you was something that you would never forget. It was sad to lose one of them, which was the particularly more affectionate one at the moment, but at least you had given him an enjoyable existence. 

“I love you.” You spoke softly, already beginning to feel sleep pulling at your mind as you reached up to softly stroke both of their cheeks. 

“I love you, too.” Both spoke in unison, filling your last waking moment for the evening with a fluffy and warm sense of love that would carry you on into your dreams.  

[morningfears]

Rose Tattoo [Chapter Three]

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Calum regrets not getting Stevie’s number when he had the chance. He’s not a big believer in fate but he’s hoping that the universe will see it fit to bring them back together. What he doesn’t know is that while the universe works hard, Ashton Irwin works harder.

Word Count: 5k

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Series Masterlist!

Calum tried his best not to let his mood influence his work. Though he sometimes had no choice but to let his personal and professional lives overlap - his job wasn’t exactly the typical 9 to 5 and his home life wasn’t exactly Leave it to Beaver -, he tried to keep the influence of one to a minimum on the other. He had always, for the most part, been able to keep his composure despite any personal turmoil.

Regardless of what was happening in Calum’s life, he always tried to check it at the door. He only spoke openly in the shop about his feelings when the neon blue open sign in the window was switched off and the plate glass doors were locked. Although Calum was often a sounding board for his clients, listening intently as they spoke about their problems or discussed music with him, he never delved too much into his own life. He had pictures of his son on his station and would answer the odd question about him but talking about Tāne made him happy. The negative things, the issues that popped up every now and again, never made it inside the shop. It was easier that way, to keep that boundary up, and it was easiest to keep that boundary in place when he pretended to be unaffected by whatever existed outside of the four walls of the shop.

The situation at hand, however, was not one that he felt capable of ignoring.

Calum had been in a bad mood when he arrived at the shop. Though his moods weren’t always discernible to those who didn’t know him, there was an obvious dark cloud hanging over his head. He wasn’t exactly known to be a chatterbox but he remained stoic and somewhat sullen as he tattooed his few clients. Some of the regulars, the ones who would return no matter how he treated them, chalked it up to him being overworked. They knew that he had to put in overtime after dealing with Tāne’s illness and imagined that it was just taking a toll on him. Those who were visiting Calum for the first time just imagined that was his personality.

None of his clients took it to heart and none of them really worried about the shift in attitude. His friends, however, could tell that this wasn’t related to overworking or even to a typical bad mood; something was wrong. Ashton had a feeling that it was related to El and the impending custody battle, there was nothing else that could upset Calum that much, so, when the last client of the day left the shop, Ashton bolted the door behind him and gestured for Michael and Luke to join him in the studio where Calum was cleaning up.

“Okay,” Ashton stated as he leaned against the counter near Calum’s station, “what happened?”

Calum, who had been so focused on cleaning one particular spot that he hadn’t noticed the boys surround him, flinched at the sound of Ashton’s voice so close to him but didn’t bother looking up from his work. Instead of answering verbally, he nodded in the direction of his coat and, curious, Ashton reached out to grab the pile of black fabric from Calum’s station. He almost asked why Calum pointed out the article of clothing but, before he could open his mouth, he caught sight of an envelope sticking out of the pocket.

Michael and Luke crowded over Ashton’s shoulder, Luke easily towering over the other two, as they read over the document. It was a court order, one that outlined the details of El’s suit against Calum and why she felt the need to file for primary custody, and Ashton felt a flash of anger on behalf of his friend as he read through the document.

The shop fell silent as Ashton, Luke, and Michael processed the typed words they’d read. It was surprising that she was attempting to not only step back into Tāne’s life after several years but to gain full custody when she was the one who left in the first place. Calum lifted his head, his expression weary and his shoulders slumped, as he watched Luke lean against the doorframe and fold his arms over his chest. Michael, one of Calum’s oldest friends, breathed a deep sigh as he took a seat on an empty stool.

“They came this morning,” Calum offered as an explanation as he returned his attention to the mess at his station. Calum looked like he wanted to say more, he looked like he had so much on his mind, on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet as he pulled off his gloves and shook his head.

“I can’t believe she’s actually going through with this.” Ashton, who was usually the most levelheaded among them, was fuming as he paced the floor of the shop. He held the papers that Calum had been served, the ones indicating that the first hearing in the battle for custody of Tāne was fast approaching, clenched in one hand as the other ran through his inky black hair. “She has no right! She gave him up. She can’t do this.”

“She never officially gave him up,” Michael, the one most likely to play devil’s advocate, pointed out as he shifted from side to side on a stool.  “She never signed the papers giving up her rights as a parent so, legally, she’s still got rights. Doesn’t mean it’s not a shitty thing for her to do, though,” he shrugged as he pulled his cap off and tossed it onto the desk beside him. “Why now? Why not two years ago?”

“Said it’s because she feels she’s in a better place in life now,” Calum answered, his tone detached and his face void of emotion as he dropped his garbage into the can before spinning to face Ashton.

“That’s bullshit. El is the same person she’s always been. And she’s not fit to take Tāne from you. If she wanted to be in his life, whatever. She’s his mother, fine. But you’ve raised him. She can’t do this.”

Calum watched as Ashton glared at the paper in his hands. He understood what Ashton was feeling because he was angry, too. He was angry that after several years of radio silence, of no birthday presents or greetings or attempts to see their son grow, El was trying to step back into Tāne’s life as if nothing happened. He was angry that she was trying to uproot their son’s life, as imperfect as it might be, only to throw him into a situation that he didn’t know and might not be comfortable in. He was angry that she felt he was an unfit parent even when he was trying his hardest.

But, most of all, he was sad. He was sad that his son wouldn’t grow up with two loving parents - or, at least, not with his mother and father. He was sad that his son wouldn’t have the same childhood that he did, one that he took for granted. He was sad that his son would someday learn the reasons behind El’s disappearance and that he would likely blame himself.

He was sad that his life hadn’t worked out the way he imagined it would.

Calum, however, didn’t want to dwell on the sadness. He wanted to move on, to get the custody battle over and to prove that he was the one who deserved to keep Tāne. What scared him, though, was the realization that, in most cases, the mother won. Whether they should or not.

“It doesn’t matter,” Calum finally said, cutting Ashton off mid-rant as he stood from his stool. “It doesn’t matter why she’s doing it, she just is. It doesn’t matter what she hopes will come from this. I just want to keep my son. If she wants to be a part of his life, fine. But she can do that here in the city. I don’t want to fight her, not anymore, but I’m going to.” Calum paused, staring at his closest friends for a long moment. It was easy to see the exhaustion on his face. He looked weary, worn from battling his thoughts and conjuring up ‘what-if’s’, and it hurt to see him that way.

Calum reached for his coat, ready to leave the shop, but he hoped that his friends would stop him. He knew that he didn’t need to be alone but he also didn’t need Tāne to see him this way. He needed to put the dealings with El out of his mind for the night, clear his head, before he even attempted to formulate a plan of action. And Ashton, the intuitive being that he was, realized this. Calum watched as Ashton grabbed his own coat.

“You’re not going home. The babysitter’s staying late tonight, remember?” Calum vaguely remembered arranging for the babysitter to stay later than she normally did but he couldn’t remember why. When he fixed Ashton with a confused stare, the older man shook his head and gestured for him to follow. “You’ll remember when we get there,” he offered, unhelpful, as they headed to the entrance. “See you guys tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder, waving goodbye to Luke and Michael before he guided Calum out of the shop.

It took Calum four blocks and several bouts of laughter from Ashton to remember that they were headed to a party one of his clients invited him to. He knew that the client, Noah, was a reporter and that he wanted to do a feature on both him and Ashton and while Ashton was thrilled for the publicity, Calum hadn’t exactly been receptive to the idea.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t flattered. He was. But he didn’t believe in the idea of celebrity when it came to his work. He was just doing what he loved and was glad that he’d been able to make a career out of it. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would be interested in reading about him and wasn’t particularly keen on opening up to the world. So, every time Noah asked, Calum refused and Ashton, the good friend he was, refused with him. However, the party was one thing that Ashton hadn’t let him say no to.

“It’s going to be fun,” Ashton assured him as they approached the bar the party was being held at. “You can get a few drinks, forget about El for the night, and then tomorrow, we can figure out what we need to do.”

“You really don’t have to get involved, mate,” Calum assured him as they checked their coats and lingered just outside the entrance for a moment.  “It’s going to be a mess and I don’t want you to have to deal with that. This is my problem.”

In true Ashton fashion, he rolled his eyes before he fixed Calum with a glare. “Like I would let you deal with this on your own. I love you, man, and I love Tāne. You guys are my family and I’m not going to just stand by while something happens to that family. I’m just as much a part of this as you are.”

Calum knew that his friends loved him and his son. He knew that Ashton, as well as Michael and Luke, had his back and would never let him down but to be reminded of it so explicitly was a feeling that he couldn’t describe. It made his heart ache in the best way and he only hoped that he could adequately convey his gratitude someday. However, before he could open his mouth to thank him, Ashton shook his head.

“Come on,” he laughed, nodding toward the bar, “let’s go get a drink.”

It was only then, as they entered the actual venue, that Calum remembered who Noah worked for. He saw the red Rolling Stone logo and a few prints of more recent covers lingering around the room. It was also in that moment that he remembered who else worked for Rolling Stone.

“Seriously? Ash, mate, come on,” Calum sighed as he glanced around the bar, not so discreetly scanning the crowd for a mop of green curls.

“What?” Ashton questioned, a grin on his lips as he nudged Calum in the direction of the bar. “I’m just here to see a few friends, network a little. No ulterior motives.” He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on someone Calum couldn’t quite see, before he added, “Oh, wow. Would you look at that? That looks like Stevie. You remember? The girl you tattooed. What are the odds?”

Calum rolled his eyes at Ashton’s obviousness and craned his neck to find Stevie. It took him a moment, there were more people with green hair in attendance than he ever imagined would be the case, but he finally spotted her sitting at the bar. He felt his mood lift as he caught sight of her and it surprised him just how excited he was to get the chance to talk to her again. He’d tried not to think about her, had tried not to consider the ‘what-if’s’, but a few thoughts crossed his mind. And now, looking at her once more, he was determined not to let her get away again.

However, his short lived confidence and determination were dashed as he watched the man beside her place a hand on her jean covered thigh. “Looks like I’m too late,” he sighed, hoping his voice didn’t give away exactly how heartbroken he was.

He didn’t have the right to be upset, not when he hadn’t even expressed proper interest in her, but he felt a burning in the pit of his stomach that he likened to sadness. It was unfortunate, he would’ve liked to have gotten to know her, but he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.

“Um, I don’t think so, mate. She doesn’t look like she’s into that guy at all,” Ashton stated, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention back to where Stevie sat at the bar.

Calum could see where Ashton was coming from. Stevie looked annoyed as she nudged the man’s hand away from her thigh and shifted to face away from. He could see her place her hand over her drink and tense as the man got closer to her. He didn’t have to think about it, he knew that he needed to step in. So, without even glancing at Ashton, Calum said, “I’ll find you later,” and began pushing his way through the crowd of people to get to Stevie.

                                                     *******

Stevie bit her lip as the man to her left - some asshole from accounting that couldn’t take a hint - continued talking. He’d zeroed in on her the moment she arrived at the bar and had stuck to her like a shadow. She didn’t particularly want to be at the party in the first place, she was only there because it was a celebration of Noah’s promotion, and the man (Malcom, maybe?) was only making her mood worse.

“Lighten up,” he huffed, reaching out to touch her thigh once more even though she’d shifted away from him and stopped pretending to listen to his rambling. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m just trying to be nice. It’s not like you have anyone better to talk to."

Stevie felt her skin heat and knew that her ears were red in both humiliation and anger as she tried her hardest to ignore him. She wanted to reach for the abandoned fork on the counter and stab him in the hand in hopes that he would leave her alone, however, violence was not the answer - not if she wanted to keep her job - and she didn’t want to cause a bigger scene than necessary.

So, she pulled out the oldest line in the book. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. Leave me alone.”

“Boyfriend? Where is he, then? Stuck in traffic?” Stevie had hoped that telling him she was waiting for someone would be enough. It usually was. However, this guy seemed persistent and she imagined that it would take an actual miracle for him to leave her alone unscathed.

She opened her mouth to retort, to tell the man that it really didn’t matter, but before she could say anything, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. “I’m sorry I’m late, love,” a voice that she immediately recognized as belonging to Calum - it was hard to mistake the raspy voice and hint of an Australian accent - cut through the din of the music. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

Stevie glanced up and caught the look on Calum’s face. He looked as annoyed as she felt - she knew he’d overheard the taunting from the accountant - and she felt him squeeze her side as a gesture for her to play along. However, she didn’t need any prompting as she melted into his embrace. He was warm, warmer than her even though she’d been trapped in the stifling heat of the bar for over an hour, and he smelled like cigarettes and a cologne that made Stevie want to bury her face in his t-shirt and get lost in the scent.

She decided that that would be taking Calum’s kindness too far and simply leaned into him as she sent the accountant a sickeningly sweet smile. “It’s no problem,” she assured Calum, glancing up at him with a real smile, “I had company.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should be as petty as she wanted, before she decided that she had nothing to lose. She shifted her gaze from Calum to the accountant and asked, “What was your name again? You told me but I didn’t care to remember it.”

Stevie felt Calum’s chest reverberate with a stifled laugh as the accountant turned a garish shade of purple and sputtered a response. She couldn’t make out what he said as he slammed his glass onto the counter and left his stool but she imagined that it was for the best as she watched him stomp through the crowd and away from her. She and Calum remained intertwined for a moment, him with his arm around her waist and her with the back of her head pressed to his chest, before they both moved away from one another.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbled as she turned to face him with a sheepish smile. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t know why that’s so hard for some people.”

Calum frowned at her response and shook his head. “No, you don’t have to thank me. That guy shouldn’t have been an asshole.” Calum hesitated, his eyes narrowed in thought and his eyebrows furrowed, before he added, “The name thing was brutal, though. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah,” Stevie laughed before she took a sip of her drink and shrugged. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Calum smiled at this and shrugged as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe I can get to know some of them.” Calum glanced around the room, Stevie wasn’t sure at what, before he returned his gaze to her. He scrutinized her for a moment - his stare should have made her feel vulnerable, his eyes were intense and his gaze was heavy, but it didn’t. She felt oddly at ease with him and wasn’t surprised when he added, “I don’t really feel like partying. You want to go get some coffee?”

She knew that she had seen something in his eyes when she was leaving the tattoo shop. She knew that there was something lingering beneath the surface, something that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say, and she had had a feeling that he’d wanted to ask her for her number. She’d been mildly disappointed when he hadn’t asked but she didn’t let herself dwell.

She was a firm believer in letting the universe find a way and it seemed as if it had.

“I’m not a big coffee drinker,” she hummed, biting back a smile as she watched Calum’s face drop. She paused, letting the slight sting of rejection linger for a moment, before she added, “I could go for a chai latte, though.”

Calum blinked, surprised at her agreement, before he released a deep breath and shook his head. “That was mean. Now I’m not sure I want to leave with you,” Calum teased as he moved to fold his arms over his chest.

“I feel like you want to be here exactly as much as I do,” Stevie pointed out with a laugh as she reached for her bag and stood from her stool. “There’s a really good cafe right down the street. What do you say?”

Calum remained silent for a moment. Stevie met his gaze, her eyebrows raised, and watched as a small smile quirked his lips. “I say, lead the way.”

Stevie shot Calum a bright grin as she gestured for him to follow her. The pair weaved through the crowd - neither of them spotted Ashton and Noah grinning at one another as they did so - and gathered their coats before they stepped out into the cool night air. Nothing was said as they wandered down the sidewalk, still busy despite the time, in search of the cafe Stevie loved. The bar they were in wasn’t very far from the Rolling Stone office and she felt comfortable here, wandering her neighborhood.

Calum looked like he belonged there, beside her, but it felt strange to be accompanied by someone who wasn’t Noah as they stepped into the cafe. She hadn’t really attempted to make too many friends in New York, she hadn’t exactly been in the mood for companionship, but something about Calum felt right. He felt natural, as easy as breathing, and Stevie didn’t want to let a good thing pass her by.

“I take it you’re getting the chai latte,” Calum hummed as they stood in front of the counter and glanced up at the menu boards. When Stevie nodded, a small smile on her lips as she could already smell her tea being brewed - some might call it a problem when the staff knows you well enough to prepare your order the moment you walk in, Stevie called it convenient - Calum nodded himself. “I think that’s what I’ll have, too.”  Calum stepped to the counter to order and, to Stevie’s surprise, added her drink to his tab.

“Wait, no. Don’t do that! I can buy my own drink,” she protested as she pulled her wallet out of her bag and attempted to hand the barista her cash.

“I’ve got it,” Calum laughed as he nudged her hand away. “Think of it as an apology for putting you through twelve hours of pain. How’s the tattoo healing, by the way?”

Stevie glared at him for a moment but, upon realizing he wasn’t going to relent about the drink, huffed and shoved her wallet back into her bag. “It’s good,” she nodded as they took seats at a small table beside the window. “It looks great. Thank you, again. I don’t think I could’ve gotten a better artist for the first tattoo. Angela would’ve loved it.”

Calum smiled at this, a sincere look of happiness on his face, as he shrugged. “I’m sure you could’ve but I’m glad you think so.” He paused, thinking back to their first meeting, before he asked,  “You said it’s part of a bucket list, right? What else is on it?”

“A few cheesy things and a few very Angela things,” Stevie answered with a shrug as the barista placed their drinks on the table before disappearing to the back. “Go ice skating in an outdoor rink, go to the top of the Empire State building, go for a walk in Central Park, play roller derby, be in a race of some kind - she didn’t specify. A pretty even mixture of super cheesy New York things that I’m excited to do and a few kind of terrifying things I wish she was here to do instead.”

Calum’s eyes widened at Stevie’s description of the bucket list and he nodded appreciatively as he sipped at his latte. “That’s a lot to take on. I don’t think I feel so bad about the pain I put you through the tattoo anymore. Roller derby sounds rough.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Stevie shrugged before she took a sip of her own latte. “I went roller skating ever weekend when I was a kid. There wasn’t much else to do. Funny thing, the Empire State Building is the one I’m most afraid of. I’m terrified of heights.”

Calum laughed at Stevie’s admission, somehow not surprised that a girl who wasn’t even slightly nervous about roller derby was terrified of visiting the observation deck of a tourist attraction. “It’s not that bad,” he assured her with a light laugh as he met her gaze again. “Tāne’s terrified of heights and he liked the view. You kind of forget about how high up you are and just have to appreciate how beautiful New York is from there.”

“How is he, by the way?” Stevie asked, referencing Calum’s son who had been dreadfully sick the last time - which was also the first - she’d seen him.

“He’s better,” Calum nodded, a small smile on his lips, “thanks for asking. He’s still coughing if he gets too hot but,  otherwise, he’s back to himself.”

“I’m glad,” Stevie nodded.

After that, the pair lapsed into a companionable silence. It wasn’t awkward, not like Stevie imagined it would be, and that only lended itself to her theory that there was something about Calum that was comfortable. Something about him set her at ease, it made her happy. She wasn’t sure why she felt so carefree in his presence but it worried her slightly. She wasn’t the type to relinquish her anxieties without a fight. It was a problem she’d faced her entire life and she knew that. 

However, she also felt wary about anything that made her too happy. Things had never quite worked out for her. No matter how well they started, no matter how promising they seemed,  somewhere along the way everything ended up taking a nosedive. She wanted to believe that Calum would be different, that if she let him in and opened her heart to him, he wouldn’t destroy her. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to believe anything other than what she’d experienced throughout her life.

Happiness was not hers to attain. 

She felt the drop in her mood as she reminded herself that nothing good ever stayed in her life. It wasn’t Calum’s fault, though. She had just always been unlucky. So, instead of letting him know that she believed herself to be cursed, she placed her best fake smile on her lips and carried on as if nothing had changed.

They sat and drank their lattes, talking about music and art that they loved, until the cafe closed. Stevie contributed enough to the conversation to say that she spoke but she felt herself waning as the night went on. She excused it as exhaustion, she had been working overtime to complete a draft for her editor, and Calum - who didn’t have any reason not to believe her - bought it. As they stepped out of the shop and into the cool night once more, he smiled at her.

“Today started off as a bad day,” he admitted as he shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at her. “But it ended up being alright.”

Stevie smiled at this, genuinely pleased that she could help turn Calum’s day around. He was sweet. He had a good heart and a kind smile. He seemed like the kind of person that would do whatever he could to make others feel at ease and she wanted the best for him. “I’m glad,” she said and she was. She was happy that he was happy,  it was just a bonus that she was involved.

Calum smiled sheepishly at her as he said, “I would love to offer to take you on that walk through Central Park but I should get home. The babysitter has to head out soon. Maybe we can hang out again sometime?” When Stevie made a face, one that she didn’t mean to make, Calum grimaced. “It doesn’t have to be a date,” he amended. “No labels just two people, occupying the same space.”

Stevie wasn’t keen on getting his hopes up - though she desperately wished she could, she didn’t see herself having a happy ending with him or anyone else, for that matter. But she realized that spending time with him couldn’t be all that bad. If anything, it would get Noah off of her back about having friends outside of work. So, after a moment’s hesitation, Stevie nodded.

“Sure,” she agreed, “that sounds noncommittal and like something I can handle.”

Calum smiled at this, pleased that she was willing to see him again, and tugged his phone from his pocket. “Could I get your number? I’ll text you and maybe I can help with something on the bucket list,” he offered as he watched her type her number into his phone.

“Roller derby is planned for next week, if you want to join,” Stevie offered with a grin as she watched him pocket the device. When Calum’s eyes widened, she laughed. “It’s a girl’s only league,” she assured him, calming his nerves. “But maybe we can find something else to do.”

“Yeah,” Calum nodded. “We’ll find something else. Be careful on your way home.”

“I will,” she nodded, a small smile on her lips as she watched him hesitate to walk in the opposite direction of her. “I’ll see you later, Calum.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, grateful that this time, he knew that there would be a later. “See you later, Stevie.”

Although Stevie was hesitant to open her heart and Calum wasn’t sure what he was doing other than trying his best to move on from his past, they were both hopeful. The universe had worked in their favor - with a little help from Ashton Irwin - and they only hoped that it would continue to favor them both.

_____________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I’m so incredibly tired. Sorry for going MIA. Sorry for not answering any asks or messages. I’m honestly just not in the mood to socialize. I’m exhausted and my brain is fried, tbh. I’m working on my thesis (like, actually finishing it up!! So, if I disappear for the rest of the week, that’s why. It’s going to clock in at a whopping 75 pages. Pray for me) and my grandfather died on Saturday. I’m fine, I only met him a few times, but my mom is upset and I live right down the road from where they’re holding the funeral (funny that I’ve only met him a few times when I lived less than five minutes from him for two years, I know) so she’s staying with me and that is. Stressful. But it’s okay. If I can survive the next three weeks, I’ll be fine. Anyway, thoughts on Stevie and Cal?? I love them. I hope you do, too.

Tag List (like this post or message me if you want to be added!): @toolazymyguy , @irwinkitten , @jamieebabiee , @glittersluke , @spicycal , @lusbaby , @everyscarisahealingplace, @brokenvirtualheartcollector , @if-it-rains-it-pours, @blisshemmings , @calumscalm , @lovemenowseemenever , @ijutreallylovezebras , @rhiannonmichelle , @p0laroidpictures​ , @tomscuddles , @loverofmineluke​ , @harrytreatspeoplewithkindnesss​ , @blueviiolence​ , @loveroflrh​ , @empathycth​ , @luckyduckydoo​ , @tobefalling​ , @bandsandbooksaremykink​ , @watch-how-she-burns , @megz1985​ , @wokeupinaustralia​ , @lucidlrh​ , @canterburyfiction​ , @cal-is-not-on-branding​ , @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o​ , @jaacknaano​ , @findingliam-o​ , @old-zeppelin-shirt​ , @idk-who-i-am-anymore1​ , @sammyrenae68​ , @flowerthug​ , @calumsphile​ , @caitdaniels​, @drummerboy794​ , @writingfortoomanyfandoms​ , @x-lover-of-mine-x​ , @miliefayy​ , @sunaaii​ , @canterburyfiction​ , @sebrox40​ , @nati-nn , @opheliaaurora23​ , @bitterbethany​

[steveusesfaberge]

3AM Talks

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader

Request: Hi!! Could you possibly do a Hargrove!Reader, where she’s Billy’s twin and Neil, hurts her one night and billy comes home after being out to find the scene and he loses it and he takes reader out to steve(whom she’s secretly dating) and tells Steve that she’s staying there whilst his parents are out and they’re both like “how the fuck do you know?” AND just super fluffy and angsty and ahhh

Summary: Y/N finds herself in charge of watching Max...except, Max is missing... By the time Billy gets home...the damage is already done. His father had never been an understanding person. Hargrove takes his sister to (begrudgingly) the one person he knows for sure will take them in. Her not-so-secret boyfriend...Steve Harrington. Billy and Steve end up have a..nice, long chat...

Type/Style: Requested, Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Abusive father, violent-beginning, cursing, angst, a protective Billy-goat...

Word Count: 8,800+

a/n: Here it is! Finally!!! :D Thank you all for sticking with me! <3 Coming up are Steve Requests (I did not forget them, do not worry! :) )

It’s a bit longer than I thought...but I figure a topic like this deserves more time to be explained.

I live for Steve & Billy interactions! -- Sorry if this wasn’t what you all expected...I tried to make it as realistic as possible...without making it too long...<3

Next is a Billy fic - one that someone requested, and I’ll be doing it happily!

Sunsets Back Home & Some Steve requests as well! Hopefully getting them all out tomorrow or in the next few days! :D

I hope you like my take on the request! <3

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Y/N hummed to herself, the faint sound of Crazy For You by Madonna filled the hollows of her room. The walls were simple - the same tan coloring that Max’s and Billy’s rooms were. Unlike her brother’s innuendo posters of half-naked women, cars, and motorcycles (all of which, these bare women, were probably riding) - Y/N had band posters and a few (dressed) models scattering her four walls of space.

Her vanity mirror was placed in the corner of her room, across from her small desk. She remembered helping Max with simple things such as straightening her hair or even doing playful-one-time makeovers...(Billy had been dragged into it once...but Y/N had to promise no one would know about it and Max wasn’t allowed to see her big brother look like a complete softcock).

Y/N was sprawled out on her bed; Vogue magazine advertised before her on the sheets as she pondered if she could pull the looks these beauts did. She’d one time asked her brother if she’d be able to make Vogue - to which he responded with a snicker (the ass he was) hell no, Y/N/N. She’d roll her eyes, the running joke being well we’re twins, so looks like you ain’t makin’ it big either, B.

Normally, she and Billy would be hanging out...it was a Thursday night and she and her brother always did something fun on Thursdays (usually that involved just sitting around, swapping music and talking - but sometimes they went for late-night drives or paired up to find a party to crash...and Hargroves knew how to party...that was for sure). Time spent with Billy was time well spent, in her opinion.

But not tonight, he mentioned something about a date (which was code for one-night stand). I’ll be back, kid. Is what he’d told her, stopping by her room on his way out, leaning on her doorframe (like the ‘cool kid he was’, or as she said ‘like the fingerprint leaving asshole he was’). She’d frowned. Where are you going? Billy rolled his eyes, scratching his neck as he lazily watched her from across the way. I got a date. Sighing, she waved him off with a scrunched up nose. That’s fucking disgusting - ew, no! Billy don’t wiggle your eyebrows...get out - get out! Goodbye, Billy! He only laughed, saluting her before he continued down the hall. The thud of the front door and the piercing rev of his engine marking his departure.

She wanted to catch a movie - Back To The Future had come out and she was itching to see it...Y/N supposed she could wait another time. For now, she judged the too-skinny, too-perfect figures and welcomed her radio as a white-noise. Maybe she’d give Steve a call...was he babysitting tonight?

Her door was abruptly slammed open, giving her a heart attack on the spot - her hands fumbling with the booklet. Her y/c/e eyes snapped up, her body shocked rigid as she spotted Neil. Letting out a slow breath, she sat up, Vogue in hand as she fidgeted with the pages.

“You need something, sir?” She asked, remembering Billy who constantly told her to always stay calm, be relaxed, and act as civil as possible (even if he didn’t listen to his own advice...always being arrogant, sarcastic, and short with the man their father was...Do as I say, kid, not as I do).

Neil scanned her room as if searching for an imperfection to bring to light. Y/N only waited in a choked buzz of Bowie’s Let’s Dance, thankful that there was something else sounding off other than her own heartbeat. The tension in the room was suffocating...absolutely terrifying. When he found none, he spoke (she could almost taste his disappointment).

“Me and Susan are going out. You and your brother are going to watch Max,” He was fixing his coat’s collar and Y/N bit her lip for a moment, tapping her pointer on the magazine’s cover.

Clearing her throat, Y/N grabbed his attention,” Billy’s not home.” It felt like playing a game of chicken in the streets...which car was going to pull away first? Or...would there be a brutal accident to deal with? Would one car be worse off than the other? Y/N wasn’t sure who was winning and who was losing, all she knew, was that this game was not fun.

“You’ll be watching Maxine then, got that?” Y/N nodded. Her father raised his eyebrows - waiting for a proper response. Her mouth felt dry. “Yes, sir.”

They were gone after Susan gave a soft wave passing by, her father not giving a second thought of her as he left. The door banging shut behind him. She could breathe again...how did Billy do this? He spoke more to Neil than she did, always taking the initiative into his own hands...time and time again.

Standing up, Y/N forced her legs to work with her after that soul shaker of an interaction. Walking down the hall to Max’s room, she knocked on the door with her right hand; four raps. When there was a heartbeat of silence she wondered if Max heard her. She tried again.

Silence.

“Hey, Riding Hood? You in there?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her heels as she waited - wanting to finish the section of Tips & Tricks For Flawless Skin - maybe she and Steve could have a spa-day...He happened to like facemasks, believe it or not (but had an odd tendency of eating the cucumbers for your eyes...). The white door was never opened, so she sighed, turning the doorknob herself.

“Hey - Maxie, did you hear me?” Y/N’s words trailed off, crashing to the floor along with her heart. The room was empty. The only sign of recent inhabitance was the open window and the absence of a familiar skateboard...

Running a hand through her hair, Y/N exited the room - calling her little sister’s name as she briskly walked to the kitchen...to the living room...and back to Max’s.

Y/N could feel a creeping terror in her throat and she wondered where Max could’ve gone. Mike’s? El’s? The Byers’? She was back in her own bedroom - pacing the carpet swiftly. The radio had been turned off so she could think and she was listening to the rhythm of blood coursing through her veins like her favorite song.

She didn’t have a car...couldn’t afford it - besides, Billy always took her wherever she needed...Y/N hadn’t needed a car up until this point. Not even when she needed to sneak out...Steve had his own car...a simple park down the block and no one would know who she was with, and where. Saying that...this was bad.

It hadn’t been the first time Max left without as much as a trace... Most times, she was back before anyone knew she was gone...other times...Billy paid for it (He tried his best to keep Y/N’s skin as flawless as Vogue’s stupid lures...he’d joke even with a busted lip that she needed to keep her skin healthy...so she can show their asses up one day!).

But that was when it was the both of them watching her...Billy wasn’t here now, it was eight o’clock...he wouldn’t be back till later...her father would be back in two hours tops - leaving her only one-hundred-twenty minutes to find Mayfield.

She quickly crossed the bedroom - exiting, and walking to the living room. She picked up the house phone and dialed the Wheelers’ number. Y/N was nervously curling the cord around her thumb and index finger, biting her lip as her eyes subconsciously kept flickering to the front door. The other line was dead for some time...she wondered if anyone was home...maybe the kids were caught up playing DnD - but then wouldn’t Karen or Ted answer for them?

There was a slight pause, a seeming hiccup - and then a voice.

“Hello? Who’s calling?” Y/N sighed, thanking her stars.

“Hey, Mrs. Wheeler - I was wondering if Max was over, it’s Y/N.” she explained while listening intently (pretending Billy and her didn’t make fun of Karen for flirting with him at the pool...That’s gross, B! -- Yeah, but it’s so funny how easy it is, Y/N!).

“Max? - Oh, the little redhead! No - haven’t seen her-- have you seen my son, by chance?” Y/N sighed, realizing Karen was in a similar situation.

She quickly mumbled a no, I’m sorry, before hanging up and biting at the skin of her cheek. “No need to worry,” she told herself softly,” Call Hopper!”

Long story short, no one picked up. She assumed El was out - probably with the party, God knows where, and Jim was probably down at the station working... The last-ditch effort she had was the Byers’. As she began punching in their house number - she stopped - remembering their phone hadn’t been working for some time...something with the kids accidentally knocking it off the wall - all Y/N knew, was that Steve had warned them not to do it (That’s all you said to stop them, Steve? -- Welll...no...I said a few other things...-- You’re useless, Harrington!) - whatever it was - but they’d done it anyway and...now the Byers’ receiver didn’t work.

Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall entering the kitchen, she saw that she had roughly an hour and thirty-six minutes...that was enough time to walk to the Byers’ and back...right? Riding a bike was out of the question, she didn’t have one and she didn’t have time to just...go buy a brand new bike either...so walking it was.

Billy had always been a good brother. In his own way, he cared (even for Max, who claimed that Hargrove couldn’t give two shits about the air I breathe as long as it's not his). Billy would always look out for both his sisters - in ways they’d never notice. He was subtle like that.

Like the times he’d scare twerps off from bothering the party...it seemed that Hargrove could be rather intimidating - especially if you were a fourteen-year-old who liked to bully his step-sister and her nerdy buds.

Or when Billy would purposefully stay up late - knowing that Y/N was upset, or maybe something was wrong; waiting for her to come knocking on his door at eleven o’clock...asking if he was still awake...

Y/N had learned, through eighteen-years of knowing Billy, he’d always be there for them...no matter what. Support them through hardships, celebrate with them through victories, and holding their hands when they were scared. He may not...always show it...but...he was doing his best - and that’s all anyone ever asked for; could ever ask for.

Y/N had halfway ran, halfway walked to the Byers - tired beyond all hell when she got there, her calfs burning. Knocking on the door obnoxiously, she waited impatiently; how much time had passed? Twenty-five minutes? Thirty-five? She wasn’t sure. It couldn’t have taken long...right?

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang--

The door was yanked open. There stood Joyce, eyes wide and a clear confusion and worry crossing her features as she took in the girl in her doorway. It was just coming nine and she hadn’t been expecting anyone...certainly not Y/N Hargrove.

“Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need something?” The mother asked quickly.

Y/N shook her head, y/c/e eyes desperate as she tugged at her y/c/h locks. “M-Max, I’m looking for Max -- is she here?”

Joyce crossed her arms, shaking her head,” No, sweetie. She left a little while ago - said she was going home.” Thank, God...

“Why did so--,” “Oh, no, ma’am! Don’t worry! I-I was just...I was...I thought she was here...turns out - she’s not...and...and she’s at home.”

Y/N’s happiness slowly melted away as she realized Max was home...alone. Max was home alone.

“I’m s-sorry for bothering you, Joyce! But I can’t stay t-to talk! I-I need to go!”

Running home was not fun. It was not easy. It was not what Y/N wanted to be doing at nine o’clock on a Thursday night. She was sweaty, exhausted, and scared. Y/N was panted hard, her legs screaming, as her street now came into view - date night was always two hours...two hours...she could be home, and act like nothing ever happened...everything would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Her father’s car was parked out front. Slowing beside it, she felt tears well up in her eyes. How long had it been there? When did they get back? Was Max home? Did they realize Max was gone? Did he realize she was gone? Which she Y/N was referring to...Y/N didn’t even know herself...either way; she was still in trouble.

She’d never been so hesitant to open the front door - the porch light wasn’t on - so maybe they weren’t expecting anyone home...but...that was just Y/N trying to comfort her raging nerves. They knew Billy was out; even then, the light was off. Neil never turned it on - claiming it was a waste of money to have it burning all night.

Y/N opened the door. It was unlocked. Had she left it unlocked? She couldn’t remember. Her house keys were in her pockets, but that didn’t mean she necessarily used them in her haste to find Max...

The lights in the house were all off...a good sign...a very good sign (she’d shut them off when she left). That’s how she took the sign anyway. The door clicked shut with a soft sound, and she inched her way down the hall. She checked Max’s room...not having to open the door as she could make out the faint glow (of what she thought to be) Max’s desk lamp casting orange underneath the doorway. Then, Y/N walked past her closed room - to Billy’s...his door was wide open and was empty. It was only nine-forty-three (which she checked while walking back to her room - stopping in the kitchen) and the house was completely still.

She didn’t like how quiet it was...but...maybe that was a good thing.

But didn’t they say; good things never last long?

She turned her doorknob and pushed the opening to reveal her room. The lights were off, save for the tickle of silver moonlight from her window. Stretching a handout, she flicked her light switch on. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she muffled a scream of surprise.

Her father was seated on her bed. He didn’t look happy.

“I-I can e---,” “Max was home alone, Y/N.” his words dug into her, slow and menacing.

“I-I didn’t--,” “I thought I told you to watch her, Y/N?” She felt small...so, so small.

“I-I know, sir - and I-I w--,” “Then tell me, why did I come home, to find your little sister, home alone...” He was standing, and at this moment, Y/N wondered over and over (like every time this happened) how Billy did it.

She couldn’t sell Max out now...if she told him Max had snuck out - Neil might get angry at her...yet, Y/N knew he always blamed the sitter...even if this was the one exception - she wasn’t going to risk it. She’d cover for Max...because...that’s what Billy would do.

“I’m s-sorry, sir.” She whispered, the fear stopping her from crying out like she wanted to do. The fear tore at her, leaving Y/N helpless and stunned like a deer in headlights. Very harsh, powerful headlights.

Neil shook his head, wiping his hand over his face, dragging it along his chin as he watched the girl still frozen in the doorway. “Come here, Y/N.” Her body didn’t move, every sense in her telling her to run...run...run...

“Y/N. Come. Here.” Like a game of Simon Says, not wanting to lose - and the commanding word being Y/N...her feet drug her forward. She stood with an arm’s length between them...but that was all he needed.

Crack.

He’d struck her across the face, her head snapping to the side at the impact. She’d expected it...but...she never could prepare herself for it. She wished Billy was here, he’d know what to do...God, she wished Billy was here...

Her chin was seized roughly, Neil forcing her to look him in the eyes, his free hand clutching her wrist tightly. She bit her lip, trying not to look weak...not to give in.

“I thought we talked about this, Y/N...what did we talk about? What do I tell you and Billy all the time?” He hissed, his fingers digging bruises into her jaw and forearm.

Her eyes welled with tears and she was thankful for the dim lighting, saving her from looking the man in the eyes and seeing the monster that lived under her bed, that ran to her closet whenever she had Billy check for her as he’d done growing up...The monster always showed up when it was most unwanted...

She was thankful Neil couldn’t see her eyes. Y/N’s y/c/e eyes were filled with fear. Filled with anxiety and a stormy glaze that could only describe this; I knew this was coming...she left...but I won’t sell her secret to you...not the devil...no... If she’d learned one thing from her brother - it was that hell was never a pretty place to be...and sometimes, it was closer than you’d think...but despite that - you never made a deal with Lucifer.

“What did we talk about? Answer. Me.” Her arm was splintering in pain, his grasp so firm she wasn’t sure blood could find her fingertips anymore. She’d turn away from him, but he held her jaw so tensely she was scared to breathe.

The number of times their father will drill into them...Respect and responsibility. Until they learned that - until he was satisfied by it - then they could rest easy. But Y/N knew...she knew the devil never played fair. No matter what she did, or what she said - she’d never hold an ace hidden up her sleeve. Not like him.

“R-Respect. A-And responsibility,” she gritted out, her lips barely moving to produce the words. Panic, frustration, and hatred keeping her mouth locked in place.

Another strike to her face, her cheek stung and she could feel the making of a bruise find her nerve ends, but she refused to cry.

“Respect a-and responsibility, sir.” Y/N repeated while trying to pull away from her father.

“Don’t.” His hand holding hers whipped up and then down, throwing her to the floor with an immense thrust. Y/N moved to stand, but a sharp pain to her side had other plans.

It rained down like a hurricane and she could only wish for it to stop. Biting back her pain, she tried protecting her head and neck - Billy taught her that.

“We went over this, Y/N!” He yelled - fists, boots, and words flying as he gave into his anger. She wondered how much her body could take before she gave up. Billy would be strong...Good God...where was Billy?

From the moment she walked in, she could tell Neil had been drinking a little - his breath smelt of dead dreams and alcohol. She assumed it came with dinner...or, for his own enjoyment...it was hard to think while her body rippled with agony.

She tried zoning it out...all of it. The beating, her father, his words...she focused on her brother, Max being safe, the party, Steve...yeah...Harrington had taken her on a lovely date the other night - he’d taken her out to the cinema, and then they’d picked all the kids up for dinner...Y/N had ended up with milkshake on her shirt (thanks to Lucas and Dustin) and Steve had offered her his jacket...it was still a fond memory - the party was like a family to her...a better family she knew than her own kin to be...

She didn’t know when it stopped, or if it would never stop...all she could see were swimming images of whom she loved until she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Everything went numb...but...maybe it was better this way.

Billy had just gotten home. It was well past one and he knew for a fact, that Susan and Neil were asleep. They were never up this late - so he’d never have to worry about getting laid in on for being out at an hour like this.

His car parked outside, he entered the house as noiselessly as silence itself. He walked down the hallway hesitantly, but the faint sound of his father’s snoring was enough to ease him to walk normally.

“Y/N? You up?” He was standing at her door. It was cracked open, the lights off. That didn’t mean she was asleep - there had been plenty of times he’d find her awake, just sitting in the dark; listening to a soft hum of her stereo...except the radio had been turned off and the only noise was the lull of night muffled by the house.

He pushed the door open, the dim touch of moonlight having him squint to see her laying on the floor. Billy rolled his eyes. Dumbass probably fell asleep - had she been reading or something again? Nonetheless, he walked over, gently leaning down to pick her up.

She didn’t even react to his arms lifting her; Y/N felt like deadweight - but it didn’t bother him. She seemed tired. He was carefully walking her to the bed, making sure she wouldn’t stir - and she didn’t...and it was now that he questioned if she were a heavy sleeper or not...Billy couldn’t remember.

He settled her down, and when he moved to cover her with the comforter - he noticed something by her nose. It was like a dark line - a streak almost. Billy used the palm of his hand to rub it away. He leaned to the lamp on her nightstand, and when it clicked on, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his heart in his chest anymore...

Black and blues littered her arms, her face was swollen and an ugly handprint was nestled on her right side, her nose was bleeding, her bottom lip was busted...he was sure if he lifted her shirt - he’d only be met with a terribly splotchy rendition of the night sky.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking hell,” he cursed, touching her shoulder gently - attempting to shake her awake. “Y/N? -- Kid? Wake up, c’mon -- it’s okay now...you’ll be okay now...it’s me...it’s Billy.”

She only groaned, a whimper escaping her at his touch - his hand jerking away like he’d encountered something hot. It seemed everything hurt...

“Y/N - please wake up, I...I need to know...what happened,” Billy knew what happened...but he needed to know how bad it was...she only moaned, a painful noise, swelled eyes not opening. He needed to know if he’d be sending a demon back to the gates of hell right now...he could live with murder...

Damnit. He slammed his hand to the headboard. His anger tickling his neck red as he thought horrible thoughts...he’d kill the bastard, he’d fucking kill him. Billy wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but he also wanted to cry. Why’d he go out? For some stupid fuck? Why had he left her alone? Why had he left her alone? Why? Why? Why?

He’d left her...it was Thursday, for fuck's sake...it was supposed to be their night...and he’d ditched that for an easy hit and run... Billy felt like a fool. This was all his damn fault. If he’d been here, he could’ve helped her....he...he could’ve done something for her...anything...he’d have been taken the--

The low murmur of his name drew his attention, and he fell down to his knees - grabbing her hand softly in his own. He was shaking. “Y-Y/N -- it’s okay...it’s me...It’s Billy,” the blond repeated, pulling her hand up to touch his cheek, letting her know it was him; the warmth of his skin. His presence heavy as he watched her frail figure.

“H-How was your...d-date?” When she asked him that, Billy almost didn’t know what she was talking about. He shook his head and moved to pick her up - scared by the sounds of someone walking around the house.

“It was shitty,” he grumbled, easily carrying her out the door, out the house, and into his car. Her breathing was troubled - like it hurt to do so...and God, did it hurt BIlly to watch her in so much pain...

“Wh-What’s happening, B?” She asked softly, throat dry, head splitting with pain.

Billy didn’t answer her. Only held her hand as he drove...drove fast down the road.

Steve had been asleep. Why wouldn’t he be? It was one-thirty-one in the morning and it had been a Thursday night. He liked to have stayed up late, talking to his girlfriend on the phone - but Harrington knew Thursdays were reserved for Billy (even if Steve pouted...Y/N never traded those nights for anything). So, instead he figured he’d catch up on well-deserved rest - the kids had been dragging him around recently like a doll and he wasn’t sure how well his body was doing. He didn’t get paid enough - well, he didn’t get paid at all.

To be woken up by a brash hammering, he thought maybe it was just a dream...but then the sound of his name being called - along with Harrington! Get your fucking ass out here or I’ll break this goddamn door down, shithead! - was not a dream.

The brunette was groggy as he trucked down the steps, a pair of plaid boxers covering his lower body with a loose hanging T-shirt adorning his chest. His parents were out of town for work and he had the house all to himself (another reason he wanted to spent the night with Y/N - but it was Billy and her Thursday night...and she religiously scheduled it every week).

“What the hell...?” he groaned, swinging the door open to reveal a blurred figure.

Rubbing his eyes - Steve realized who it was, and suddenly his unstyled hair didn’t seem so important (because yes, he’d thought about fixing it before answering the door...he hadn’t had his priorities figured out yet, okay?! How was he supposed to know the importance?).

“H-Hargrove--,” “Move.” Billy shoved his way into the nice home - heading straight for the living room...carrying Y/N with him like a fragile piece of art. Steve raced to turn the lights on, still not understanding why the Hargroves were here - until he saw the state his girlfriend was in. (He didn’t even have time to think about how Hargrove knew exactly, where he lived...)

“W-What the fuck happened to her?” He asked, crouching down to Y/N’s level, a hand coming up to brush some y/c/h strands from her bruised face.

Billy was quiet for a moment, wiping his forehead with his shirt. “Our father.” That was all he had to say for Steve to understand...he’d been together with Y/N for...well...coming five months? He’d met her in school - fresh out of Cali...the three siblings had been the talk of the small town (especially the supposed party animal and his drop-dead-gorgeous sister).

It was love at first sight - for Harrington at least. He had tried acting cool...but that backfired as soon as he realized just how perfect Y/N was. A pretty smile, sweet laugh, delicious-smelling hair, smooth, sun-kissed skin, and to tie it all together - she came with an overbearing little bow of Billy Hargrove...

He remembered when Billy had shown up at the Byers’ house just last year - asking for his sisters...claiming a little bird told him they were with him; Steve had been trying to persuade the children to calm down and just let the starting team do their job (it hadn’t worked out).

Billy had seen Max’s head peek out and he’d already had Steve on the ground before he could justify himself. I thought I told you to stay away from my sister, Harrington? He’d given Lucas the same treatment...it had only gone downhill from there... Ending with Y/N offering to stay there with Billy for a little while, coming to help them later. She said I can’t leave him here like this...he’s my brother, Harrington... (Steve liked that idea better anyway, kept her away from the trouble).

So, when Steve had finally gotten the courage to ask Y/N out...he hadn’t been surprised when she turned him down. It only had him fight harder to prove his worth and after a torturously slow convincing...she’d finally broken...five months later and counting...and she was still by his side.

Steve had always been a bit of a worry-wart, he couldn’t help it - he watched six headass kids twenty-four-seven...it was in his blood now. “I-I’ll get the first-aid kit,” he quickly mumbled, leaving Billy to stand by his sister - a savage glint in his eyes that Harrington didn’t feel comfortable being around (they weren’t best friends after all, and Steve was sure if Billy had the chance - he’d skin him like a jack-rabbit...).

Returning within seconds, he gently lifted Y/N’s head, her slight hum all he needed to feel more relieved. “H-Hey...how you doing?” He offered weakly, placing her head back down in his lap as he balanced the kit on the armrest.

“B-Billy?” Steve shook his head, pulling a clean cloth to her face, dabbing the blood from her nose. “It’s Steve, hun.”

Y/N’s eyes were barely open, she frowned with a wince. “I’m here, kid...I’m here.” Billy’s gruff tone was enough to have her relax into Harrington’s touch without having to worry for her brother. Steve’s eyebrows furrowing, it made him sick to think she even had to worry about Billy like that.

“Hargrove - you wanna grab something in the freezer for me, like ice or whatever?” Steve asked, eyes focused on the bruises along Y/N’s cheeks. His heart was twisting, all he wanted was to cuddle her and take away all her pain...instead, he resolved on playing nurse for now.

Billy gave a curt nod, his boots fading into the kitchen. Steve took the small moment of isolation to press a gentle kiss to Y/N’s forehead. The y/c/h haired girl only looked puzzled after a half-smile tossed in his direction.

Steve was mumbling an apology as he applied disinfectant to her cut forehead, when she spoke,” W-Why am I here?” He was about to ask what she meant - Harrington figured she was here because Billy didn’t like the idea of keeping her in an unsafe environment in the state she was in...when he halted. Hand hovering over her brows.

Why did Billy bring Y/N here? There were so many other places to take her - Steve’s house couldn’t have been his first thought...and yet, as Billy walked back in, ice pack in hand...it felt like it had been.

Hargrove took a seat in the armchair nearest the couch Y/N was laid across, his elbows resting on his knees as he hid his mouth in his hands. Steve was staring at the curly-blond and Billy’s blue eyes dodged up to meet his brown ones.

“What?” Was all Billy charged while leaning back, his hands falling to his lap as he squirmed with the rings on his fingers.

Steve shook his head, breathing nothing, before looking down to his girlfriend. Billy...didn’t know...did he? No...they’d been cautious about it - meticulous and secretive - it’d been the most planning he’d ever done in his entire life...and he’d fought demodogs before...

Sure, Hargrove had the knowledge of mutual friendship between his sister and The Hair - they spent time with the party and so that was expected, being the only teens each other’s age. But, as far as Steve knew; they promised not to tell him...not yet anyway. He’d specifically told Y/N he didn’t care who she dated (it was her life after all) but God forbid it, kid - you better not end up fawning over that shithead, Harrington. No sister of mine is gonna sling it with the ex-King of Hawkins.

The distaste from one another stemmed thick and deep; Hargrove didn’t like Harrington, Harrington didn’t like Hargrove... Hiding their relationship was something that came with dating Hargrove’s beloved sister - Steve didn’t mind (much). He figured Billy would rip him a new one if he ever found out. Probably feed him to the Upside Down...or worse (What’s worse than that, Harrington? -- Being feed to Billy).

There had to be another reason Billy had taken Y/N here...and unless it was brought up in the short conversations of rival men - Steve wasn’t going to give Billy the ammunition to do shoot Steve in his own foot.

“More bruises...?” Y/N grumbled, hands skimming the ghosts of what he assumed were blooming blemishes along her stomach, back, chest...and well... her entire torso...

Steve nodded, licking his lips, his mouth dry as he ran a hand through her hair. It didn’t make him feel so hot to see the love of his life so...broken. He felt useless.

“Take your shirt off, Y/N/N so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Harrington decided, helping her sit up.

“Let it hang around your neck, kid,” Billy’s stern tone cut in, and Steve choked on his spit - Billy had been so quiet he forgot Hargrove was there.

Steve only nodded. He figured it’d be easier than taking it fully off anyway. Billy’s burning gaze didn’t help though - did he think Steve would try something? Wow...makes you feel great...Steve had some decency.

Y/N had difficulties getting her arms through their proper holes; so Steve gingerly helped her - trying not to do it for her, while also trying not to touch her for too long, on top of trying to well....help her. Billy was not making this easy.

Once the T-shirt was around her neck, hanging loosely (a pleased Billy following as it hung covering her chest, presumably what he wanted - only causing Steve to roll his eyes. He wanted to say - You know how many times I’ve seen her naked? Screw that - you know how many times I’ve undressed her? But he didn’t think he’d be safe to do so...).

“Oh, Y/N....” Steve muttered softly, biting his lip as his eyes filled with guilt. Her back was to him, and the litter of blue, black, purple, and yellow was like a child’s poorly done finger-painting. Streaks here and there, uneven and messy. Lifting his left hand, he warily brushed the skin; it was hot...feverish hot.

“I-I know...” she answered with a choked sob, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Billy was looking away from her, his eyes blinking away anger (he wasn’t about to let Harrington’s ass see him cry). “I’ll get more ice.”

Billy stood up swiftly and left the room - a slow string of curses finding him - Steve swore Hargrove thumped a fist to his kitchen counter...was Billy aware how much granite cost?

“Come here, my love,” he whispered, tugging her back into his chest. He swung his leg up to rest on the sofa, bordering where she sat as if his limb were a railing to keep her from falling.

Y/N leaned back, crying softly into his chest (it didn’t help that doing so was causing her abdomen hell). “Shhhh, it’s okay now...I’ve got you, babygirl...I’ve got you.” Y/N found solace in Steve’s words, gripping the thin material of his shirt she listened to the fast beating of his heart...

Bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum...

“I-I’m sorry...y-you have to s-see me like this,” she apologized, which only had Steve sink lower, drawing her as close as humanly possible.

He shook his head against hers as he rested his chin atop her. “No, no, no! Don’t you dare say you’re sorry, darling...this...is not your fault. It never is.” He kissed her hair tenderly and felt his own eyes well up (he refused to cry...he didn’t need Hargrove seeing him as a total softie - and Steve needed to be strong for his girl right now...).

“I-It’s so late-e though...y-you must’ve b-been asl--,” He tilted her head back, hating the way he could almost fit his hand in the same spots as the growing bruises on her jaw. He hated how the print of Neil was still glowing.

He gently shared a kiss with Y/N - forgetting Billy was in the kitchen...he could always deal with that later. She needed to know he was there...really there. Always.

“You, are the most beautiful creature...ever, and I don’t ever want you to say you’re sorry...for-r --,” he paused licking his lips and rubbing his nose to hers,”- for that bastard’s mistakes. You’re too good for that, you don’t deserve that, babygirl.” Steve would never blame her, not for anything. Certainly not this...She was like a flower - a flower that Harrington kept and cherished in his garden of gold.

He took care of it; watering it with hugs and kisses (sometimes drowning her in them...but he found that her particular type thrived on excessive gestures like so). He made sure she was healthy - always getting enough sunlight - making sure she shone that brilliant smile of hers...outdoing any star he’d ever seen...Steve made sure she could always call his garden home...that even if she had nowhere to go - he’d receive her with open, consoling arms.

Steve only hummed softly, Y/N entangled in his arms, their legs entwined as he threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her head close to his heart. He whispered sweet nothings and means of okay to her...and eventually, she gave in...Y/N fell asleep there in his arms and he’d never have it any other way.

“God, you’re such a fucking sap, Harrington,” Steve’s neck hairs stood on end - Billy was standing in the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Steve told himself that maybe he hadn’t heard Billy right - or hoped that Billy hadn’t heard him right...

The muscular boy walked over, handing Steve frozen peas, mumbling something about how it’d do better than the lousy packs in Harrington’s freezer.

Steve nodded, moving slowly to take it from the brother - not wanting to disturb Y/N’s sleeping form. He pressed the cold bag to her exposed back, he felt her tense up, before easing back into him.

“She um...she kinda just fell asleep on me,” he explained while avoiding eye contact with the blond. Billy took his original seat - the armchair, but this time, he wasn’t fidgeting or staring at the floor. His blue eyes were fixed on the girl.

Clearing his throat awkwardly - Steve readjusted the bag, he was sure to help sooth these marks it would end up taking more than one bag of frozen veggies to make an impact.

 “How long?” Brown eyes flickered up, meeting blue.

“For?” Steve asked confused, though tried to sound as casual as possible. There weren’t very many times he and Hargrove were in one another’s company...this was the first they’d not been at each other’s throats...

Billy rolled his eyes, scratching at his neck. “How long have you been in love with her?” No beating around the bush, it seemed.

“I-I, uh, well,” Steve’s face flushed pink. The soft lighting of the numerous lamps already bathed him in orange...hopefully hiding the blush well enough. His eyes glanced to the clock by the fireplace...two-twenty-seven. God, it’s too fucking early for this bullshit....he’s really gonna do this to me? -- His sister’s half-naked on top of me...passed out -- and he’s really gonna do this to me?

Billy chuckled, though Steve didn’t see amusement reach his eyes...it was almost a forced laugh (like he was mocking Harrington). “You do love her? Don’t you, Harrington?” Steve could only nod, unsure if the answer should be yes or no...he could see both ending terribly as it was.

“God, and here I thought you were more of a man than this, Pretty Boy,” Billy scoffed, shaking his head as he reclined into the cushion of the seat.

“Since I met her,” Steve suddenly mumbled, his eyes set on the slow rise and fall of breath from Y/N. The hand not holding the frozen packet, circling her waist to keep her in place.

Billy observed his movements as if examining an opponent on the court....looking for a bluff, a flaw, a weak advantage. Hargrove thought he found it without having to try...and it was sitting in Steve’s lap - cuddled close to his chest. “Speak up, Harrington.” He grunted.

“The first day I met her,” Steve repeated, his voice steadier than before...louder than before...the sudden wave of confidence was found when he realized...it didn't matter what Billy thought...Steve loved Y/N...and she loved him. That’s all the reassurance he needed, and he remembered it with each breath she took.

“I fell in love when I saw her,” Steve confessed, his voice softening at the memory. “I-I think she was walking to find you, actually - it was after school one day...she’d asked me where the boy’s locker room was,” he chuckled to himself, hand running through her y/c/h locks. “I had been dying to meet these Hargrove twins for weeks now...but...I guess...I’d never had the pleasure of being formally introduced.”

“It...it was like watching a movie. She was walking down the hall, in my direction...and she said hi to me...nothing much. Enough to keep me coming back, y’know?... To want more.” Billy was quiet as Steve spoke, letting him ramble for as long as he wanted - Hargrove was trying to prove a point that he wasn’t sure blockhead could see just yet (that he knew about their relationship but getting Harrington to spill his guts out was even better).

“Then, I remember walking with her - I had to grab my gym bag anyway, and she had the prettiest laugh. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember the feeling of pride...-- Like, I’d done something really good...”

“She said I was nice - she said she liked my hair and - you know, that sent me over the moon,” Steve was laughing softly, trying not to move too much with Y/N’s head rested on his chest.

“I love her, Billy,” he told while glancing the brother’s way - his silence had been a bit mortifying...but Steve didn’t want Hargrove to think he’d actually been terrified to hear what he had to say. “I love her and I know you don’t like it - but...I can’t change how I feel.”

A few minutes passed by, and neither spoke again. Billy had gotten up, exchanging the now thawed peas for a fresh pack of them (mumbling something about the Harringtons’ having too many frozen vegetables). Roughly fifteen minutes of eerie stillness was carried between them - Billy had an arm bent at the elbow, holding his face up. His other hand tapping his jean covered thigh.

Steve was keeping himself occupied with moving the makeshift ice pack around, looking out for missed cuts (which there were a few) and treating them accordingly. Y/N was still propped between his legs, using him as a pillow - her hands rested around his waist peacefully locking him down.

“She loves you a lot, you know.” The suddenness of Billy’s low tone startled the brunette. He had thought that because it’d been quiet for so long...their conversation had long been shut down.

Steve gave a short closed-mouth smile. “You think so?” Harrington asked while shifting the pack to rest on Y/N’s shoulder.

“We have thin walls at home, Harrington. I hear her talking to you for hours on the phone,” Billy noted while shaking his head at the thought. “Did you know our houselines are all connected?” Hargrove was clearly messing with Steve - as if indicating he’d snuck on calls with them...it was a joke...but...coming from Billy - Steve was slow to react.

Steve sighed. “So you know then?” Billy shrugged. “Give or take, I know enough to realize she’s been seeing you for more than a month.”

The curly-blond chuckled. “I know my sister, Harrington. There’s no reason for her to be going on walks a seven o’clock. It’s not like we have a dog.”

“Maybe you’re not as dense as I thought,” Steve jabbed. Billy only grunted in response, not laughing, but not taking too much offense to his words.

Hargrove rolled his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger before saying,” You know - telling me wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re saying my head wouldn’t have been on your wall? Like a trophy?” Steve snorted while rolling his eyes,” Yeah - okay.”

“Don’t get pissy with me, Harrington. You’re the one who went behind my back, screwing my sister, amigo.” Billy had him there.

Steve swallowed a sarcastic bite and answered honestly instead,” We were scared you’d not approve--” “Because just doing it anyway helps your case” “--so we just decided to wait till the right moment...” Steve pretended not to hear Billy’s sardonic interruption.

“Was this the moment you were looking for, Harrington?” Billy’s voice didn’t hold its usual arrogant demeanor. He sounded as if he were genuinely trying to talk to Steve. At least there was that much going for Harrington.

“What, you mean at three-am, sitting in my living room - your sister not even conscious for the talk?” he concluded,” No...it wasn’t exactly the ideal moment.” Billy chuckled at that, and Steve joined him. They surely weren’t friends...no...but...they could understand one another and that made all the difference.

“Take care of her, Harrington.”

Billy understood that Steve loved Y/N as much as he did. He cared for her like he did, and only wanted the best for her. Hargrove could see the way Steve looked at her, and it was like she were the only person in the room. The only smile that mattered, the only mind that counted.

Sure, Billy didn’t exactly like Harrington...but he could get over that (for now) because the dipshit somehow made her happy. Steve could make Y/N smile when Billy wasn’t there to do it himself...so he thanked the brunette for that. He thought his sister deserved the world - more than the world really, but if Steve was the only thing the universe had to offer...and that only thing that Y/N wanted from the universe... Billy could understand.

“I will.”

It wasn’t much different for Harrington. He knew that Billy loved Y/N - may be more than he did...they’d always have a bond that Steve would envy. Y/N never stopped talking about her ‘big brother Billy - the coolest guy she knows, the strongest guy she knows, etc’. Steve felt like he knew Billy better than Billy knew...and yet, here they were - sitting roughly half a room apart - the only thing tying them to civility being a girl whom they both loved.

Sure, Steve didn’t exactly like Hargrove...but he could get over that (for now) because he knew no matter what he did or said; Billy would always be her big brother who made her happy. Billy would protect her when Steve couldn’t, and maybe that’s why it was so hard for Billy right now...because he hadn’t been there at all for his sister when she needed him most...and Harrington wondered if it was eating away at Billy’s conscious.

He’d always been so hard to read - whether cross or content - it all looked generally the same (Steve had told Y/N that once and she’d laughed, saying you just had to know the tells...for example when Billy’s nervous - he usually gets antsy and fidgety). Either way, the pain would always be the same... Steve could understand.

“Just because you’re dating my sister - doesn’t make us buddy-buddy, Harrington,” Billy clarified, a wicked half-smirk finding his lips.

Steve rolled his eyes, brushing the hair from Y/N’s face. “I know - it’s not like I’d want to be friends with you anyway...I can only stand one Hargrove at a time.” Before Billy could say anything (he was going to warn Steve that a certain y/c/h haired girl was not asleep...and had been up for quite some time...), Harrington sputtered a sound of shock as he was jabbed in the side.

“Dumbass,” Y/N grumbled, scooting closer to his side.

Steve’s eyes widened and he stumbled to find his words,” Oh - You’re up...how long have you been up...?” His tone was light, and yet - why was his heart racing so fast? She pushed away his hand holding the pack of frosted peas and sat up with a stifled groan. “Long enough, Harrington,” she looked to her brother sheepishly - he returned the simper, Billy was glad the swelling went down - her face almost looked normal again (and Steve was gaping at the fact that Billy was smiling...like genuinely).

Billy began chuckling shaking his head - the waves of relief and security finding him as Y/N seemed..if not okay...she was at least holding up. He was sure shed be in pain for a few days more, the bruises needing some time to heal. Y/N only giggled, wincing at the ache caused by laughter - whoever said it was the best medicine...was a liar.

The little shit she was...she’d been awake for the last ten minutes or so - sleeping with bruises wasn’t easy...he’d know. She was also a terrible actress - while Steve had been talking, busy with cleaning nicks and cuts, Billy had watched how his sister’s face would momentarily contort at the contact of hydrogen peroxide. Billy was very observant, especially when it came to his little sister...he’d have been lying if he said he had never followed Steve’s BMW back to his house before...he was Billy supposed to know where he was taking his baby sister? (Little? -- Billy, we’re the same age! --But you’re way fucking shorter than me, pipsqueak).

Steve was blushing, very confused, but also glad to see Y/N was feeling a bit better. “I was up long enough to hear that...um...Billy....you know...,” she paused eyes drifting to the floor. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier...I think Steve would’ve been in the position I am if we’d told you.” Y/N made a grime gesture to her battered body.

Billy clicked his tongue, standing up to stretch his back and neck. “Nah, he wouldn’t look like that,” his low voice droned out as he began walking towards the door (not before placing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead and gently ruffling her hair). “He’d look much worse if I got to him, kid.”

Steve rolled his eyes, his girlfriend laughing as she pressed a hand, hissing, to her side. That’s what you get for making fun of me, she swore he said that under his breath - the intimation of a smirk creeping on Steve’s sweet lips.

“Where’re you going, B?” Y/N asked while watching her brother reach for the doorknob.

“Home. I’m tired and I have work i--,” “Stay.” Both sets of Hargrove eyes turned to watch Steve with a bewildered manner. Billy gave a huff of amusement, be licked his lips, hand running down the side of his face as he raised an eyebrow at Harrington.

“Come again?” He demanded.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, a small uplift of the corner of his lips sealing his attempt at kindness. “You can stay here - guest bedroom’s upstairs. It’s almost three, man. Just spend the night.”

Billy looked conflicted. Pride and logic always had a hard time understanding one another...a constant battle of the mind. He was so used to doing things on his own...taking Harrington’s charity wasn’t exactly an ego boost.

It bordered his whole issue with having Y/N and Harrington be together in the first place... He’d spent his whole life taking care of himself. Of her. Making sure she was always safe, making sure Y/N never got the worst of it. His father was not a good example of a man, and Billy certainly had his rough edges.

He knew that if anyone were to be with his sister, they’d have to be a man worth her time. First meeting Steve, Billy took him as the same old, same old...playboy wanna-be, who drank too much, partied too often, and flirted too quickly...Steve reminded Billy of himself (not the kind of man he wanted Y/N with).

Over time though...it seemed Steve Harrington was hiding behind a mask. Billy had been skeptical, seeing as good things always came with a sharp end...but...he saw how happy Steve made Y/N...the sincere consideration he put into everything...Harrington had become the only exception.

And still...that battle of pride and logic waged on and Billy wasn’t sure of the generous offer of sleeping at the Harrington estate.

“I can take care of m--,” “I know, I know. You’re a big boy - but...it’s more convenient for you to stay here, Billy.” Y/N cut in, squeezing Steve’s hand in hers as a silent signal of her appreciation. She didn’t want Billy going home...not (without her), anyway. She didn’t care what happened to her - as long as Billy was okay...she knew she couldn’t do much, but if this was what she could grant him - then she’d do everything in her power to keep it that way.

“Harrington.” The soft reply was barely heard, following a thank you in the form of a head-nod, but Steve waved in response. “Y-Yeah, any time man.” 

Billy’s footsteps were fleeting and soon enough, they were alone. Steve puffed his cheeks out, eyes wide as he looked down to her. “You’re trouble, you know that?” Y/N scoffed, moving to stand up - she was thirsty and water sounded good (or alcohol...).

“Woah, woah - slow down there, tiger -- let me help you,” he shot up, arm around her waist protectively, hand holding hers as he walked her in the direction she pointed. He easily lifted her to sit on the countertop (even though Y/N complained he was being dramatic).

A cold glass of water was handed to her, their fingers touching through the pass. Steve stood between her legs and hesitantly placed his hands on her hips, unsure of what pain may lie there.

“You scared me, babes,” he admitted while resting his head on her shoulder, one of Y/N’s hands combing through his hair, the other holding her cup. “I did?”

“Mhmmm,” Steve hummed, turning his head to look at her, his brown eyes outlining the purple on her jawline. His muscles tensing at the thought of Neil’s hands on her. “I was scared - why wouldn’t I be?”

Y/N shook her head, not wanting to cry again. She placed her drink down, and cupped Steve’s face, lifting his head up, their foreheads pressed together. She closed her eyes, soaking in the scent of a faint shampoo and gentle body wash.

“I’m here, I’m breathing...I’m okay, Steve.” Her thumb rubbed a small circle on his skin and Steve melted into her touch. His arms holding him up, on either side of her as she sat there.

Steve couldn't hold himself back any longer; he tilted his head up, lips meeting hers. The faint taste of copper lingering between their kiss - but he didn’t mind. His body shifting to have Y/N’s front weighted to his, he kissed her, a hand coming to delicately - hold her tender face in his palm.

“I love you, so much, Y/N,” only pulling from the kiss to speak, Steve laughed wistfully. “Don’t cry, darling...you’re way too pretty to cry.”

Y/N shook her head, her hands falling down to hug his neck, he closed his eyes, rubbing her back instinctively. His face in the crook of her neck.

“You think Billy’s okay with this?” she whispered.

Steve tsked, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, he clicked his tongue,” I’ll give it till eight before he comes searching for my ass.”

--

a/n footer: I know this may not be what you expected...but...it turned out sweet..no? I personally love Steve & Billy interactions, like...they’re not friends - but...they’ve both got something worth being civil for... I hope you all enjoy! <3

Sunsets Back Home pt. 2 will be out very soon! <3 Along with some Steve requests~

Tagged: @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @dazedimagines @danielathedoll @allisjustok @wallflxvver @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @frnchpy @kimmydespell @editsbyjenny @dazedimagines @novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145 @foryoubarnes @winchestergirl907 @anniethepanda 

Tag list is always open!~

[artificialqueens]

Wrong Side of the Moon (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 7.- Trans Katya

Title: Wrong Side of the Moon Category: M/F Summary: “I’m Brian,” he said with a heavy exhale. Katya smiled as she looked out the window. “I used to know a Brian.” Notes: I felt like writing something darker, deeper, kinda angsty; let’s see if this turns out to be it. Written: April 28th, 2020 - May 3rd, 2020.

Wrong Side of the Moon

Katya had seen the minivan more than once by now. She wasn’t sure how many times, but she had seen the car going around before. Surely last weekend, maybe the one before that, too. She had photographic memory, and the white vehicle, with little stickers on the backseat’s window, was unmistakable to her.

She elbowed the girl standing next to her, without taking her eyes off the car. “My admirer is back,” she said before lighting up a cigarette and bringing it to her lips.

Kennedy followed the direction of Katya’s stare and saw the headlights being turned off. “Oh, oh. He had never stopped before, though. Are you gon’ do something?”

The smoke left Katya’s lips deliberately slower than normal. She felt sexy when doing so. She knew she looked good; she looked hot. The dark sky didn’t have a single star in sight, the only lighting was provided by the yellow street lamp that had become her best friend. It accentuated her curves just enough to highlight her fit body, but not too much to reveal any imperfection.

She stood there, back against the wall, one arm wrapped around herself, and the other finding support on it to put the cigarette to her lips. She didn’t move, not just yet. She needed to assess the situation. There was something about the bald man behind the wheel that intrigued her. He seemed to be hiding. There wasn’t much of him she could see, even when her eyes had learned to identify shapes in the dark.

One didn’t become a lady of the night without refining one or two senses.

He was nervous, of that Katya was sure. With a sigh, she figured she might as well get this done and over with.

The point of her black leather boot stepped on the butt of the cigarette, and she started her way to him. She purposely swayed her hips with every sharp step she took. The high heels resounding against the pavement reminded her she was the one in charge. And she liked that power.

This routine she knew rather well. She went over to the passenger window and waited for the guy to roll it down. Making sure to bend over slowly, she supported her forearms on the door in a way that pushed her breasts together, and tilted her head in a seductive angle.

“Bonjour,” she let out slowly, enticingly. “You looking for some fun tonight?”

The man faced away from her, his eyes went from one end of the street to another. He seemed to be making sure nobody saw them. He nodded to himself. Katya could see the cogs in his head turning, the inner battle of a first-timer. She could almost hear the voice inside his head, telling himself he could do this, that it was going to be okay, that nobody was going to find out.

When he finally looked at her, his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, wow. You’re beautiful.”

Katya innocently brought her chin to her shoulder. “Thank you. So kind of you.”

For a moment, nobody said a thing. He observed her and she let him. He was admiring her, in a way that -maybe- nobody had done before. She was used to people looking at her, to have women judging her. She was used to men undressing her with their stares, to pinpoint the moment when she became a sexual object to them. This man wasn’t like any of them. His stare travelled across her face almost lovingly, taking in the beauty of her features. This adoration actually made her feel more uncomfortable than any previous objectification.

“You are, like, very beautiful,” he let out in a whisper.

“I mean, it’s not like I will get tired of hearing it,” Katya said, flipping the ends of her curly hair. She had just cut it herself, and she loved it. The blonde waves ended right above her collarbone, and the bangs were just long enough that they played with her lashes when she blinked. “But, I’m on the clock here,” she continued. “So, unless you are planning on repeating that as you fuck me, I need to go back to my spot.”

He choked on his own breath, surely not expecting her to be as bold and direct. “I-I…” he stopped, trying to control the stumbling of his words. “Wow. Okay. You see, I’m looking for, umm, something in part–” He shifted in his seat. “I just wanted to know if you were… Oh, God. I don’t know how to explain this without sounding mean. Like, I don’t wanna insult you.”

Ah. She had been right. This was his first time. She could have fun with that, play mind games, make him feel embarrassed; most of her tricks liked to be put down like that. Again, he wasn’t like any other client she had had before. Just as fast as the idea had crossed her mind, it was gone.

She nodded her head, agreeing with his silence instead. “You want to know if I’m a girl with a dick,” she said it so easily, so casually. “And I am. Yes, sir. Is that a deal maker or breaker?”

The answer to her question came in the form of a door unlocking. She smiled widely, feeling a sudden relief she wasn’t expecting. She jumped in, pulled the visor down and opened the mirror. Yes, she looked good.

“So, you wanna hear tonight specials or–” she started but was immediately interrupted.

“I want it all,” he said without hesitation.

Katya liked that.

“Very well, then. I live a few blocks from here. Go right on the next light and I’ll guide you from there.”

She buckled up as the engine came to life. He did as he had been told and turned the corner, waiting for her next instruction.

“What’s your name?” She looked at him expectedly. She wasn’t sure if he was the type that would give his actual name but she kind of hoped that he’d be honest.

“I-I’m…” he made a pause, directed his attention to her for a second before staring back at the road in front of them. “I’m Ken,” he said. “My name is Ken.”

Oh, so a fake name it was.

“I’m Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova,” she introduced herself. She spoke fast, in the confusing way that she loved, and got the reaction that she wanted. “But you can call me Katya.” She waved a hand in front of herself. She couldn’t precisely shake his when he was driving. “So… Ken,” she drawled the name, emphasizing its fakeness. “You are married.” It wasn’t a question, she was stating the fact.

He looked down, to the ring on his finger, and gripped the wheel a little tighter as he nodded.

“And how old is your kid?”

This time he fully turned to face her, his eyes were wide in shock.

“Oh, I just saw all the Barbies,” Katya pointed her thumb towards the backseat, as a way of explanation. “I’m just trying to keep the conversation going, you don’t have to–”

“My name is not Ken,” he suddenly blurted out.

“I know,” she responded with a smile. Her hand landed on his thigh, physically telling him it was okay. “At the stop sign, take a left.”

“I’m Brian,” he said with a heavy exhale.

Katya smiled as she looked out the window. “I used to know a Brian.”

The rest of the way was spent in a comfortable silence, just two people that shared the same space. No words were needed to fill the air between them. Not even the radio was playing, but nobody noticed. The car moved through the empty streets slowly. They had no rush; if anything, the trip ended too fast. Sooner than expected, she was pointing him where to park.

The building was the very last of the many towers. Usually bathed in light, either by the hot sun or the tender moon. That was the reason why Katya kept lightbulbs at the minimum. The apartment was small, and she liked it like that. She also liked to maintain it messy during the night. She never made the bed when a client left the place, she left the condom wrappers on the floor, the bottles of lube stood open on the nightstand. It was a statement. The men that went there could have her for the hour, for the night even, but they didn’t own her. There were others before them, and there would be more after them.

Brian stood by the door, his hands stuffed in his pockets, as that same realization dawned on him.

“Come, come,” Katya encouraged him. “Why don’t you take a seat while I change into something less comfortable?”

With a nod, he took the seat she was offering and watched her leave. She closed the bathroom door and leaned against it with a sigh. She had literally lost count of how many guys she had brought home, how come this time felt so different? There was something special about Brian, she had sensed as much weeks prior. When he drove in circles, always looking but never stopping. He made her nervous, but in a good way. Like when she was about to ride a roller coaster, anxious about the unknown but fully aware that everything was going to be okay. The way he was so enamoured by her, even without knowing her, made her stomach go up in knots.

No.

She couldn’t go down that road.

This was just another gig; business as usual. This was a first-timer and she was going to give him the night of his life. Not because she had the idea of maybe, possibly, developing feelings for this stranger. No. She was a professional who had a job to do, and she was going to do it right. That thought went through her mind as she changed. She wore her favorite red lingerie, with garters holding her lace stocking in place. From the cabinet, she pulled her backup lipstick and reapplied the bright scarlet shade on her lips. The full length mirror showed her an image that she liked.

It was showtime.

Brian was sitting right where Katya had left him, quietly observing his surroundings. His hands rested on his knees, his feet were a little too close together. It was a cute picture. One that she interrupted just by walking into the room. He immediately straightened his back at the sight of her. She pressed herself against the doorframe, arching her back and bringing her hands up to her breasts. Her mouth opened sexily, as her body slid down slightly before coming back up. Stretching her arm, she grabbed a remote control from a shelf and the sound system came to life, playing one of her favorite songs. The notes were slow and sensual, and the foreign language made everything more mystical.

Ever so slowly Katya made her way to him. First she went around the chair, her steps synchronized to the beat. Her hands glided from one of his shoulders to the other, her nails scratched his neck slightly. She spread his legs and stood between them; finding support on his thighs as she moved to the sexy rhythm of the music. Her body knew how to dance without asking her brain about the next step. The music dictated her every move and she responded. She turned around and bent over. Her ass was right in front of him. She swayed her hips side to side on tempo.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper becoming undone was heard, he surely couldn’t take it anymore and had to free himself.

Brian swallowed hard. “Ca-Can I touch you?” he asked oh-so-respectfully.

She answered his question by grabbing his hands and putting them on her ass, one on each cheek. He lost no time. He started caressing her, his fingers softly kneading the flesh of her butt. Time seemed to stop when she felt his lips on her skin for the first time. Her eyes closed by themselves at the tender gesture. His mouth followed the outline of her panties on one side, then moved to the other. Meanwhile, the palms of his hands drew imaginary circles on her hips, keeping her in place as he left a trail of butterfly kisses.

The song ended. Nothing came on next. Complete silence surrounded them until it was broken by his voice.

“Turn around.”

It was a command, one that Katya could only obey. She did. She straightened her back, and spun to face him, having to look down to do so. His hands went around and found her ass again, only to push her closer to him. This time, his mouth went straight to her stomach. He kissed her skin a few times before his tongue ran against her toned abs. His touch was so delicate, so tender, so hot.

The lace panties did nothing to hide her erection. She was hard, and wet. An incessant throbbing pushed against the red material, making it clear she was ready. He was taking his time to travel across her torso, though. It was almost as if his mouth was taking a print of her every curve.

“Will you tell me if I’m doing it wrong?” he spoke against her skin. “I have never done this before.”

“I will,” she promised, unable to form a full sentence when he was making it hard to even breathe.

Finally, his fingers hooked on the waistband of her underwear. He looked up at her, asking for permission. She nodded effusively. She wanted him, she needed him.

Brian surprised her yet again by releasing a deep sigh; the corners of his mouth curled up, threatening to break into a smile. He pulled down the soft material, leaving it to stretch at her shins. His eyes went up and down her length, the loving gaze had turned darker now. Adoration had mixed with lust, and it was an extremely erotic combination; but there was still something stopping him from touching her.

Katya gave him time, allowing his desire to fight his logic. On the outside, he was so calm and relaxed, but she knew better. She could tell that in his mind, there was a hurricane, trying to tear away everything that had been nailed down by society. He needed to get rid of any preconception left in him if they really wanted to see this through. And, even when she was more than happy to be there to help him, it was a decision he had to reach all by himself.

Her hand cupped his face, and he leaned into her touch. He was letting go. He was ready.

She guided him forward, and he wrapped his hot mouth around her, sucking slightly. Her other hand went to the back of his head, setting the pace. They were soon pulled into a trance, where nothing else existed but them. No other sound could be heard but her soft moaning, and his wet mouth around her. She didn’t fuck his face, as she was used to doing with other men. He blew her at the speed that she wanted. He sucked her off with a certain clumsiness that was almost charming. His hands went up to her breasts, pressing and releasing to the rhythm of her thrusts. It took his fingers pinching through the fabric of her bra, to have her cumming hard inside his mouth. He flinched in surprise but didn’t allow her to pull away, he kept on sucking until she was done; licked her clean until she was soft again.

Katya offered her hands to help him up. “I–” It was probably the first time she was left speechless. She literally had no words to express what had just happened, what she had just felt. “Now let’s take care of you.” She decided to go safe, to pull the attention away from her; to focus on the person actually paying to be taken care of.

Brian shook his head. Lowering his hand, he pulled the hem of his plaid shirt. “There’s no need. I kinda, umm… I’m good.”

“Oh!” Katya looked up, catching the sadness in his eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. We can just call it a night.”

“No.” His answer came out faster than his thoughts. “Please,” he begged. “Not yet.”

Their bodies were so close together. Katya was sure that, if she inhaled deeply, their torsos would be touching. Nonetheless, he was still out of her reach. Even when he stood there, towering her, with eyes that pierced right into her soul, he was so, so far away.

One of his hands went up to her face, his thumb ran against her cheekbone. His eyes scanned her features. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her in a whisper, only for her to hear. “I can’t get over it. It’s unreal.” With every word that left his mouth, his head moved closer.

Katya closed her eyes, expecting to feel his lips on hers, but it didn’t happen. His forehead landed on hers instead.

“What do you wanna do now?” The question came out matter-of-factly, she truly was willing to do whatever he asked her to. She had agreed to comply with his every desire since the moment he finally stopped the car across from her corner.

“Would you fuck me?”

She felt his breath against her skin as he voiced the request. She couldn’t help herself. Stretching her neck, Katya captured his lips with hers. They were soft, just like she had imagined them. His kiss was even softer. Brian tilted his head, pecking right at the corner of her mouth and made his way to the center. He sucked on her bottom lip slightly, ran his tongue against it, and released it. She tasted herself as soon as he pushed his tongue passed her lips. Suddenly, something primitive took over her. She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him, if possible, even closer. Their noses bumped together, their teeth crashed with each other, their tongues met outside their mouths.

With shaky hands she rid him of his shirt, meanwhile, Brian sneaked his hands behind her and undid her bra. They took on the task of undressing each other in a matter of seconds.

Katya guided him to the bedroom, and they sat on the bed. “As bad as I wanna fuck you right now,” she admitted. “I’m gonna need a few minutes to get things going again; if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, God. Yeah, sure. There’s no rush… I mean, I don’t know about you.”

She simply smiled, pushing him to lay on the mattress. He scooted over until he reached the pillows and she laid next to him, resting her head on his chest. One of his hands immediately started caressing her back. She toyed with his free hand, running a finger on his wedding band.

“Are you sure you don’t have to go home?” She spoke placing kisses around a nipple, unable to stay away from his skin. “Where does she think you are right now?”

Brian sighed. “She doesn’t ask any questions.”

This time Katya fully looked at him, supporting her chin on his chest. “She doesn’t, huh?”

“Nope,” he answered her rhetorical question. “I guess that’s the key to our relationship working so well. Most couples believe in talking, we believe in silence. She will always love me, no matter what.”

“She sounds amazing.”

He smiled. There was a sweetness in his face that Katya couldn’t help but envy. She wondered if anybody had smiled like that when thinking about her.

“She’s the best.” He didn’t talk to Katya. He stared at the ceiling fan as he spoke to the air around them. “We grew up in the same small town, so I guess we learned to be together the old fashion way. You know the type. She gets up early and makes me lunch, irons my shirts, feeds the baby. Like those housewives you see in the old movies, and she has that classic beauty too. I’m lucky to have her by side. She does so much to keep my life together.”

Silence enveloped them then. Katya did her best to analyze his face as he got lost in thought. The room was dark, and only part of his body was illuminated by the moonlight. A few rays made it through the blinds, softening his features and making him look almost like an apparition. It couldn’t be real. That moment couldn’t be happening. He had such a good heart, and was clearly trapped between who he wanted and who he was expected to be. Something, or someone, had forced him to become this family man, to have a wife and kids and carry on an impeccable life. The only issue was that he didn’t seem content with the results, he had gone to her, after all.

“Brian, why are you here?” Katya had never had filters; she always went straight to the point, and this time was not going to be any different. “You have this amazing, picture-perfect family, and you are spending the night with a transexual hooker. I don’t get it. Are you gay?”

His eyes snapped to look at her, yet the soothing motion of his hand never stopped roaming her shoulder blades. “I thought I was,” he confessed. “I always knew I wasn’t like everybody else, like all the other boys. They used to call me names, so I went, found the prettiest girl in town and married her. What point was I trying to prove? I don’t know. I guess I always knew, but I needed to hide it. Then I heard some coworkers talking about you girls. Maybe if I gave it a try…” he trailed off, leaving her to connect the dots and finish the sentence for him.

“We get a lot of those.” She nodded. “Men usually want something, like, in the middle, so they go after the dolls.”

Brian tried to shrug, Katya’s weight still rested on his arm. “I guess you can put it like that, but not really. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think I would come across someone like you. No offense, but, in my head, I was looking for a man in a wig, sorta. Never did I think I was going to find this whole woman.”

She didn’t mean to, but Katya couldn’t help but burst out laughing. It was a nervous response to such a sincere comment. A part of her still needed to learn how to take compliments without finding it funny.

“Why me?” The question left her lips without asking her permission. The tone of her voice went back to serious.

“I don’t know. You just… made me feel things. When I first saw you, you were leaving with a guy. It felt like, when you get in the car, the radio comes on, and you catch the tail end of your favorite song. I don’t know if that makes sense. If only I had gotten there a few minutes earlier. I knew it had to be you, but I was too late.”

If he had planned to continue his crazy analogy, she didn’t let him. Before she knew it, she was kissing him. She thanked him for his beautiful words in the only way she knew how. Her mouth found his in a desperate kiss. It all happened too fast, she needed more and more of him. In a quick move, she placed a leg around his hips and pulled herself to straddle him. The only reason why her lips disconnected from his was to find his neck. She nibbled tenderly, finding a small bundle of nerves that made him moan loudly.

His hands took a hold of her hips, forcing her to stop. She hadn’t noticed she was rubbing against him so aggressively.

“Katya.”

The name left his lips for the first time. He said it slowly, tasting each of the letters as they bounced off of his tongue. His chest physically contracted at the sole mention of her name.

His eyes lit up.

The hurricane had dissipated.

He was finally free.

It took a simple stretch of his neck to connect their mouths again. He seemed to be the one losing control by then. Something animalistic took over him; he attacked her lips with complete abandon. Her name was pronounced repeatedly, like a mantra between breaths of air and hungry kisses.

Katya was pulled into a dreamlike state the more he adored her, the more he made love to her mouth with his. She could see the bond being created. The connection between them transcended flesh and logic, reaching a spiritual level that she had only dreamed of. Yet, as magical as this experience was, she needed more. The carnal desire was still there, growing and growing, consuming her.

Their lips parted out of pure necessity to pull air back into their lungs.

“I will now proceed to eat your ass, is that okay?” Katya spoke as she looked at him straight in the eye.

Brian nodded slightly. The mood of the room had changed, it wasn’t charged with fear anymore. The expectation was electrifying, fueled by desire and want, not doubt and uncertainty. It was the perfect setting for a man and a woman to unite for the first time.

He looked angelical, bathed in light, completely nude, both in body and soul.

She took her time to travel down his body. She kissed the birthmark on his chest, played with each of his nipples before she moved on to his stomach. Her lips marked his skin with prints made of deep red. It seemed like no inch of him was going to be left untouched, but she purposely avoided where he needed her the most. Her arms hooked under his knees, pulling them up to have better access.

The first touch was a soft kiss, which provoked a high pitched moan from him. Katya smiled against his skin, proud of herself. The sounds emanating him only encouraged her to keep going. She pulled every trick she knew, and ate his ass like she had never done before. Part of her wanted to stay there forever, making him feel good, using her tongue to take him into unknown levels of absolute pleasure. Her own need soon became too much, she needed to be inside of him, and she needed it yesterday.

A whimper escaped him when she moved away. It took her seconds to get a condom and the bottle from her night stand; and not even a minute later she was positioning herself to enter him. The cold finger, covered with lube, came first, making him jump a little.

“Baby, look at me,” Katya requested.

Brian complied the best that he could, his stare tried to find her face through hooded eyes.

“I need you to talk to me, okay?” she continued. “If it hurts, if it becomes too much, if you like it. Bitch, especially if you like it.”

“Oh, God. Just put it in, already.”

A wicked smile took over her face at his command. “Relax.” Her voice was soothing, and she immediately felt him loosen up. Her hand helped him prepare to take her and, after a few minutes, she could feel he was ready. “I’m going in now.”

Brian screamed in pleasure as she filled him, inch by inch. She moved painfully slowly, giving him time to adapt to her size, but he took her just fine. He felt tight around her, and she had to try extra hard not to roll her eyes. She wanted to take in every single one of his expressions. She wanted to drink in how his face distorted in satisfaction when she started to move. There was no need to go hard or fast, she unhurriedly moved in and out, easily setting the pace.

The sight displayed in front of her was enough to pull her over the edge. Brian had an arm across his eyes, his mouth was wide opened, expelling screams, whimpers and moans. His chest went up and down unevenly as he tried to breathe, and feel, and exist, all at the same time. More importantly, she could see his hard on right under her. His penis was big, really big. It bobbed against his stomach with every thrust. The harder she pushed into him, the harder it would bounce. It was a hypnotizing motion. She suddenly wanted it inside her mouth, and her want didn’t precisely ask physics if it was possible. She was flexible and he was rather large, her body simply figured she could do it.

Bending forward, and taking advantage of her hold on his legs, she pushed his hips up. Before she knew it, she had part of his erection in her mouth while, at the same time, pushing herself inside of him.

Quick as a bolt, his eyes snapped open, not really understanding what was going on. He felt her sucking him. He felt her thrusting into him. She was in him and yet all around him. It literally provoked an overload in his system, causing him to nearly pass out as he came long and hard inside her mouth. She swallowed his full climax while still rocking her hips. It wasn’t until she was sure he was done that she basically slammed into him, finding her release with a scream herself.

The emptiness of their aftermath was suffocating. The room smelled like sex, it smelled like poetry as two bodies physically disconnected yet bonded in levels beyond rational thinking.

Katya dropped into his arms. She could feel sweat dripping down her spine, her bangs sticking to her forehead, and her make up was probably a mess; but she didn’t care. Not when she had his warm hand caressing his back, and the cold moonlight caressing her front.

“Oh… my… God!” Brian let out between chuckles. “I-I honestly had no idea. Like, I didn’t know it could be like this.”

Katya smiled, running a fingernail around his belly button. “It is when you hire an expert.”

It was a joke, it was meant to be a joke, but her words were enough to make the curtain fall. The magic had ended, the spell had been lifted. He had hired her. She was a hooker and he was her client. Nothing more. She had promised herself she wouldn’t forget that, and she did. It was about time to regain control of the situation.

She pushed herself up. “I gotta go change. Just leave the money on the dresser.” She pointed at the exact spot as she stood by the bed. “You can see yourself out, right?”

Brian sat up. “What the fuck? Are you serious? You don’t expect me to just leave, do you?”

Katya scrunched her nose. “I kinda do,” she said in a childish tone, accompanying her words with a pout. Another facade to keep people at arm’s length.

He didn’t move.

She sighed. “Okay, look, if you want, we can do this again another day. Right now I gotta go. I need to go back to my girls.”

Katya didn’t know if she had suddenly developed X-ray vision, or if he was just a transparent being, but she could literally see the connections in his brain trying to make sense of the situation. He was confused, he was angry, almost sad. And he traveled through several waves of emotions in a matter of seconds, until it finally clicked.

“At least let me drive you back,” he offered.

“It’s only a few blocks.”

“Katya… please,” he begged.

It was too late to say no, not when she had given him more of herself than she had anybody else. So she agreed. They both got dressed. She fixed her hair and make up in the bathroom, and he watched from the bedroom, through the partially opened door. He held her by the waist as they made their way to his car, and he held the door for her as she got in, closing it after pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head.

“You know,” he spoke to her, but wouldn’t face her. He occupied himself in settling in the driver’s seat. “I wish I had known you sooner. Things woulda been a lot different, I think.”

“Maybe in another life,” she suggested. “Maybe we already met, you know, in a previous one. It kinda feels like it.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a nod.

The short drive was done in silence. He left his open hand between them, and her self control lasted less than a block. She intertwined her fingers with his and didn’t let go until they reached her spot.

Brian stopped the car, but didn’t put it in park. She got the hint, the sooner it was all over, the better.

“Well, if you ever want to see me again, you know where to find me.”

“I will, I will. I promise. Thank you… for tonight.”

Trying her best to hide a smile, Katya got down from the car. She spotted Kennedy standing right where she left her, so she concentrated all her will power in making her way to her friend, without looking back. If she did she would surely run back to the car, and ask Brian to take her away with him.

“After a long night of hooking,” Kennedy recited to the night air.

“Shut up, you stupid whore.”

Katya laughed openly, happily, as a white minivan, with stickers on the backseat’s window, drove away.

[mappinglasirena]

Set Trouble in the Captain’s Quarters

I was working on my first deep-dive, a post about the trouble of locating the holodeck and anything on the upper deck, really, when I realized I needed to split it up and do this bit first.

So, today in “Mapping La Sirena”: Why it’s so tough to try and make a layout of a place that is, in fact, a tv set bound by all the constraints of budget, time, and practicality that implies - and why there might only be one functioning door on Sirena’s upper deck.

[very long post with a bunch of pictures after the cut ;) ]

Technically, there are two rooms that have been reliably established to be on the upper deck of La Sirena, and two that are very likely but a little bit speculative. The ones we know for sure are Raffi’s quarters (because we see Picard knock on her door and get a good glimpse of the background as she walks in several times)....

... and the “conference room” in episode 10 (you can see the floor plating and structures of the upper deck through the open door).

The two rooms we can

assume

to be on the upper deck are the captain’s quarters and the holodeck. I’m gonna talk about the holodeck more next time, so we’re ignoring it for now, but let’s take a look at the captain’s quarters.

I’m very far from the first person to point out that the conference room in episode 10 is with 98% probability just the set of the captain’s quarters with different furniture. Look at the slatted light source (what looks like a window) in the back, the wall panels next to it, the ceiling (construction and slope), and compare it with this:

Some more detail:

So this is very likely the same set, only with different furniture. The only difference I could spot is this bit of the wall where one of the support beams sits:

This clearly looks different when Raffi enters the captain’s quarters in ep. 8 (left) and when we see it again in the conference room in ep. 10 (right). I do have a theory as to why this is though: The production team moved the wall to the other side of the door to film the inside of Raffi’s quarters and then moved it back for the conference room - except not all of it, apparently.

Clues for the Moving Wall

First of all, I’ve thrown together a couple very rough sketches of the layout of Raffi’s and Rios’s rooms. More detailed & accurate ones will follow when I do a deep dive on the quarters at some point ;) (Raffi’s room ended up a little bit too wide but not by much. It’s larger than it seems on camera!)

Now, there are several clues that these two rooms are not two separarte, fully existing sets but that they share some of their space and, especially, a door.

First and most obvious: The door for each of these rooms is in the same place in relation to the rest of the deck. If you count the support beams that run the length of the ship, starting with the two red ones at the back, the door in question is on the port sight (right side on picture below) between numbers 3 & 4. That’s parallel to the back third of the “holodeck” (the large alcove with the door in the middle on the left below).

It’s pretty difficult to get a good shot of the entirety of the upper deck, so I hope this is helpful enough. If you look at the floor plates as orientation, they give you a very good guide about where things are located, since they always lie neatly in between the support beams. Now, if you check the view through the doors in question...

left: Raffi entering her quarters (ep.8); middle: the “holodeck”; right: view from the conference room (ep.10) (which, as established, is identical to the captain’s quarters). I know it’s a bit tricky in the last one, but if you check the lines on the floor, you can tell it’s in the same position as the door in the first picture.

The second clue is the shape of the rooms. If you look at the corner in the captain’s quarters where Rios has his armchairs, you can see that the corner has this diagonal bit with the horizontal light across it (top right and bottom picture below). That corresponds to the little bit with diagonal walls in Raffi’s room (top left; check the layout sketch above if you’re unsure what diagonal bits I’m talking about ;] )

It’s a little difficult to see in Raffi’s room, with Rios and a cupboard in front of it, but I'm pretty certain that bit of wall is identical.

Last but not least, I got so incredibly frustrated by trying to figure out what was going on here that i started paying way too much attention to silly little details and lo and behold: The scratches in the doorframe of the door to Raffi’s quarters (left) and Rios‘s quarters (right) appear to be identical.

What does it all mean?

This is one of the main points where the set design is just not going to line up with any “real" floor plan for La Sirena. One physical space was used with some modifications to act as at least four different locations on the ship: the captain’s quarters, the conference room, and the crew quarters (both Raffi’s and Agnes’s, details when I get there ;] ).

There are a number of those incongruities throughout Sirena’s design (just wait until we get to the size discussion, good grief!), but for me, this one jumped out from the start. Now, I don’t know how you all feel about these kinds of issues, where filming realities conflict with in-world-continuity to a certain degree, but my opinion is mostly: So what.

It’s neat to know that this is what happened and to realize what the actual, physical set probably looks like, and as you can see, I'm more than happy to obsess over it and discuss it ad nauseam. But for me at least, it doesn’t lessen my enjoyment of figuring out what a “real” Sirena might look like and how we can use her as a setting for fanworks. It basically means that we officially have creative license to design the “real” floor plan for ourselves. You just need to be aware that any solution you come up with to sort out this paradox is only your interpretation of imperfect source material ;)

With that said: I actually think there is a pretty easy solution to this particular conundrum. There are two doors on the port side of the upper deck. In the set, the front one is apparently a false door and only the back door leads into a real room. On the “real” ship, we can just move the captain’s quarters one door further to the front, as I already did on my first attempt at a layout, before I realized there was a moving-wall-issue.

Now, this post is already way too long and the door will become important again for the question “where the frick is that holodeck supposed to be?”, so I’ll leave it at that for the day. I think I’ll return to the upper deck some time next week to point out more set-confusion and hopefully end up with an improved sketch of the mid-section of that part of the ship. Stay tuned ;)

I would love to read what you guys think about these kinds of discrepancies and how you might handle them in your Sirena headcanons!

[orderofthefanfic]

Moving on in Life and Home

It’s All Over but the Laughing: Chapter 3

Arthur watched the phone like a hawk the moment he got home. A day passed with nothing and he tried not to be discouraged. A few days passed and all he did was wait. He felt like his mother, obsessed every day with whether she'd receive her letter from Thomas Wayne. And like his mother, he was probably waiting on a lost cause. Until the phone rang.

It had been six days since he last saw her, Arthur made note she wasn't at the office, and he bolted towards the phone. With only one ring, he yanked it from the receiver and shoved it to his ear.

"Hello?" He restrained himself, aware that his life was probably looking as bleak as usual and it wasn't the call he hoped for.

"Hey, Arthur!"

He nearly dropped it when the sound of her cheery and hyper voice flew through the speaker. He noticed his name didn't catch in her throat.

"So, about that vacancy."

His lips cracked into a grin as her nervous chuckle met his ear. The call was brief, he could tell she was struggling to talk over the phone and when she disclosed she was actually at a payphone feet from the steps of his building, he didn’t see the need to prolong the conversation, and he hung up. Arthur tripped scrambling to put on his pants and nearly forgot a shirt when he dashed for the door.

His limber form shot down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, and darted out of the front. (Y/N) was juggling a few bags in her hands, catching one before it tumbled onto the pavement, and holding her foot behind another suitcase to keep it upright. An awkward smile was plastered on her face as she bounced on her toes. She had an unusually high amount of energy, contrasting greatly with how she was when they'd met. Her hand moved to wave but another bag tipped from her arms. He jolted forward and caught it by the handle, the weight yanking him slightly before he straightened.

With a breathless thank you, she nodded her head towards the door and cheered, "I got an apartment!"

Her grin widened and Arthur smiled back. But confusion still glinted behind his eyes at the change in demeanor, she seemed to be filled with nervous excitement. He mentioned his intrigued to her and she suddenly seemed to realize he didn't know something she did.

"Guess what? Guess!" She exclaimed, barely leaving time for Arthur to take a breath before she rambled through a giggle, "I told him to f-fuck off. I did! I told him to fuck right off. I finally said it."

She almost seemed to twirl as she said it, elated, but he was slightly taken aback by the statement, lost as to what she was even talking about.

When she noticed his raised brow, she launched forward, dropping her bags haphazardly and gripping Arthur's shoulders, glancing down at her fallen items with a small "oops" before she beamed, "My uncle! I-I finally did it! I said 'fuck you' right to his face and left!"

She was almost giddy, putting him slightly into shock at the sudden contact, and his brow raised even higher. With the close proximity, Arthur could now see an odd blush of shadow across her cheek and a pinkness to her eyes he hadn't seen before. Her speech was better, but he assumed it could be credited to her hyper-focused exuberance. It was, even by his standards, an odd encounter.

He was slow to congratulate her, the thought coming out more as a question than anything but she took it in stride and released him to bundle her bags back up.

"I told you already about calling the landlord. I have a month to pay my first rent, but I have an apartment now!"

He nodded, gesturing before he took some of the extra luggage from her hands to help her. Arthur had to admit it was slightly jarring, her drastically different attitude, bouncing in her place, rambling, acting as if they’ve been friends and hadn’t only seen each other once before. He couldn’t tell whether he liked it, or was frightened by it.

Her fingers grazing his arm from underneath her full hands brought him out of his thoughts as she smiled and nodded towards the building, “Help me carry my stuff?”

“Oh, yeah,” He started, shifting the weight of the bags, of which he had less of, and pulling ahead of her to hold the door open with his foot.

(Y/N) smiled and practically skipped through, swaying slightly to maintain her tower of luggage, and headed for the elevator. Her finger dashed out to push the button, but the leaning skyscraper in her hand blocked Arthur from seeing the floor number. And it finally hit him, as he waited for the decrepit elevator to lurch up, that she was going to live in his building, someone he could actually know and befriend. His heart began to pump harder, rising as the floor numbers rose, and waited. As each floor passed, he bounced his leg, watching as it neared his floor, waiting to pass it before-

It stopped.

Arthur's floor number was blaring in his face and the ding of the elevator's warped doors rang in his ears like a flashbang went off. She was none the wiser, hopping with a little squeal in excitement before she stepped out into the hall. He nearly slammed into the back of her when he followed, unaware she had halted in the middle of the floor, staring at the peeling walls and disgusting floor, and bathing in the nauseating artificial light. Embarrassment began to flush Arthur's cheeks.

"I know it's not mu-"

"I love it!"

He was utterly speechless by her exclamation, blinking his eyes a few times in wonder as if she was seeing a different hall than he was. With a double-take between the room and her, he settled into his feet with awe. She was something else.

Bearing her teeth in a wide grin, she sauntered down the hall, the weight of the bags lighter in their arms. As she passed his apartment entirely unaware, Arthur smiled, too.

To say he didn't know there was a vacancy on his floor, would be a lie. To say he thought fate would actually work in his favor and give her that apartment, would be the absolute truth. So as she headed down his hall, nearing that empty room at the end of the building, the dank air felt just a little lighter.

"Arthur," she chuckled out, "Little help?"

When he shook himself from his stupor, he looked up to see her pushed against the door, using it to hold her bags up as she stretched to reach the handle. Her fingers barely grazed the metal before she gave up to secure her hold.

He was quick to step forward, passing her an awkward smile as he grabbed the keys lightly from her extended finger and turned the lock. When the door swung open, it was unbelievably musty, coated in dust with leftover furniture from whatever sorry soul had lived here before. But she seemed unphased, aside from a short puff of air, and waltzed in to drop her things on the ground. He was still hovering in the doorway, watching as she flitted around the space, with a pep in her step, dragging her fingers along the dirty counters and feeling the imperfections in the wallpaper. When she shoved the window open, the room filled with the evening sun, dust floating like little fairies through the beams, and warming the room. It stopped just short of the tip of Arthur's shoes and he shuffled forward into the golden light. No one, it seemed, opened windows in Gotham. But she wasn't just some no one.

Helping her set up the apartment as best he could, they chatted about everything and nothing as the room slowly began to feel a little more like a home. (Y/N) had dusted off the counters, wiped the windows, and even went as far as to clean the floor. When they finished, they hovered awkwardly in the living room, the doorway, the hall, knowing it was time to leave but unable to pull themselves away. They were leaning, her on the doorframe and he on the wall of the hallway, and laughing softly at something one of them said. The low hanging sun now shone straight through her apartment and illuminated the side of her face with an orange glow. He didn't want to leave.

"I can't thank you enough for all your help," she started, and Arthur knew their time was up, "It means so much."

He noted the almost lack of stutter, her posture relaxed as she spoke.

"Ah, don't worry about it, it was nothing."

"Not to me."

He met her eyes and smiled, a comfortable silence swirling between them. One of her feet had slipped back through her doorway, her hand resting on the frame.

"Well, I should leave you be. But maybe, I mean if you're still going to the office, we can go together? Then you wouldn't have to go alone. I don't mind getting there early."

She beamed.

"You sure you won't get tired of me?" She joked but he shook his head, "I would love that, thank you."

"Okay, yeah, you could just stop by my apartment in the morning, o-or I could stop by yours, and we can go together."

He jested behind him lazily as he said apartment and she piped up, "Gotta tell me where that is first."

His hands went into his pockets, and she narrowed her brow at his sudden hunch, a mischievous look dancing behind her eyes.

"Actually, uh, it's funny because.." his hand escaped the fabric to run a hand through his hair before he looked to her with an airy laugh, "I'm just down the hall."

Her eyes widened, before her head cocked to the side, "So it is, is it? Now, what a coincidence."

He was half worried she would be mad, maybe even creeped out, but relief flooded him when her smile deepened and she brought her hand out comically to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, neighbor."

She winked as he shook her hand, "And you.. neighbor."

"So, I'll see you at 8 am?"

"I'll see you."

"Then it's a date!" (Y/N) winked again.

They were all smiles as they said goodbye. When her door was closed, she waited, although a bit longer than she thought she would need to, for Arthur's footsteps to reseed down the hall before she pressed her back against the wood and slid down with a grin.

[elizabeth-234]

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Twelve: The End

Hi all! Hope you are doing well and staying safe. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter :/

Thank you all for reading and commenting!

Chapter Thirteen: A New Normal

Routines were the foundation Peter built his life on. Like playing the long game in chess, Peter chose his pieces carefully and played each move keeping the end in mind; only moving when all routes had been thought out. He made his decisions when he knew it would be safe.

But his routine was gone now and Peter was walking on a crumbling chess board. Or maybe he had never been playing chess. Maybe it was a different game altogether.

-

His body stiffened under the sheets that clung to his skin. Peter ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat at the back of his neck.

A sliver of moon shined through the window and into his room. Peter turned his phone on the dresser, blinking at the brightness of it and groaned at the late hour. With one eye closed he read through the messages and put the phone back down on the nightstand without answering.

He threw a wrist over his eyes and focused on his breath. The sheet moved with every inhale and exhale. Still feeling restless, Peter turned to face the wall. He reached out, brushing his fingers against the imperfections in the wall.

Peter sighed and waited until it was early enough to get up for the day.  

-

Allowing himself a few days of moping was hard as he only wanted to stay in bed for longer but he couldn’t stand the hovering May was doing. How she was casting worried eyes on him for longer and longer.

He created a new routine for himself. It was just as good as his old one, if not better, he argued with himself.

He was fine.

-

Peter sighed as he bypassed the hallway he knew Ned was waiting in and made his way out of the school. One in the midst of a crowd.

He slipped away, down the stairs and outside. Breathing fast he quickened his pace and kept his head forward when he heard his name being called from behind.

“Peter!”

The toes of his shoe dangled off the top step. Peter turned around as Flash reached him. Flash put his hands in his pockets and Peter shifted under the gaze of his friend.

“You’re avoiding me.” He said.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, pulled the hair there when he felt the blush rise on his neck and cheeks.  

“No, I’m not.”

“Let’s not pretend I’m stupid. I know you’re avoiding me and the rest of the little group.” Flash said.  His eyes pierced Peter until he dropped them to the ground, looking small for once. “We need to talk about it, Peter.”

He was beginning to hate the sound of his name anytime someone said it. Since Oscorp, his name became more of a plea, a worry from the people around him.

Peter glanced at his watch.

“No, we really don’t. I’m late so I’ll see you around sometime.” He said turning around and walking down the stairs.

“Answer your text messages.” Flash yelled from the top of the steps to Peter.

Peter shook his head to himself and continued on his way. His stomach clenched at the confrontation and he turned off his phone, even though it was only a matter of time before something would happen and everyone wouldn’t be content with only trying to talk to him.

Still, they hadn’t tried anything too uncomfortable yet and after the conference he could distance himself further in the summer. He would have to keep working, now in the library, until after their presentation.

The subway ride was full of people on their way to jobs in the city.

It was the same subway he’d taken before to get into the city. The same one to get to the internship.  

Peter put his headphones in, blocking out the thoughts that threatened to overrun him.

He was fine.

After he got off the subway he walked by a rusting news stand. Across ten screens a woman was crying, speaking between breaths about being mugged. She called for help to the people and the government to stop the frequency of crime in her neighborhood. She called for someone to help.

Peter pulled his jacket tighter around his body and began walking again. Peter navigated through the other hordes of people and kept his head down.

Barry Electronics was situated across from a Bagel & Coffee and a Starbucks. Barry, the owner, joked with Peter that they would never run out of snacks and more often than not Peter found himself waiting in line, food order in hand.

The small brick and mortar shop door was innocuous and the sign nonexistent. Dave, his Ham friend from Dayton was the one who the one told Peter about the store and their opening.  

The bell rung as he entered the shop and rows of transmitters and radios greeted him. Classical music wound through the aisles. Peter sat behind a desk in the back where a Yaesu FT-DX3000D sat exposed. Its parts were scattered across the desk all in place where he left them yesterday.

“How’s it going back here?” Barry leaned around the doorframe, taking in the tense set of his newest employee’s shoulders.

“It’s going well, Mr. Barry.” Peter said. He stood up, pushing the chair in to face his boss. He played with the hem of his sweatshirt before looking down at the man’s shoes. The white plastic covering the toes of the Converse were pealing and brown but the red color of the canvas was bright. Peter looked at his own black ones and the holes forming in the side.

“I just wanted to apologize again, sir. I’m not the best with peo-”

“Now stop there, young man. You don’t have anything to apologize for. Mr. Steffes has been coming here for a long time and you were doing your job is all. Not your fault you knew more about the FT than he did.”

“But isn’t the customer always right?”

The man stepped into the room, pulling the ends of his beard and observing Peter.

“Well, normally that’s right but us radio folks sometimes think we know everything and when a new comer, especially a young one such as yourself, arrives it can be intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Peter never in a million years would have thought he would be described as that.

Barry shrugged and Peter smiled with a fresh blush and another thought to the sale he’d lost them at his boss’s next words.

“You’re young and you know your stuff. That’s why I hired you, kid.”

At the nickname Peter flinched, curling his shoulders in on themselves.

“Sorry again, Mr. Barry, and thanks for putting me back here.”

The man sighed and Peter stopped himself from remembering another person who sighed the same way only a couple weeks ago.

“Think nothing of it, eh? If you’re more comfortable back here, I can deal with those pesky customers, alright?”

His shoulders dropped a smidge when Barry left and Peter got back to work. He allowed himself to get lost in the turn of the screw and the electrical board.

-

The street lights were long on by the time he arrived back at their apartment. May was already asleep and Peter leaned against the counted in the kitchen watching the ramen spin around the microwave.

He piled blankets over his lap and ate the siracha soaked noodles in bed while trying to finish some last-minute math homework for the next day.

The empty bowl sat on his nightstand beside his turned off phone. Peter worked until he fell asleep, slumped over the Pythagorean theorem.

His woke with a start, chest heaving against his pounding heart. Peter grabbed his t-shirt. Hands raked down his chest trying to wipe the blood dripping off of it away.

He brought his knees to his chest knowing in a distant part of his mind that there was only sweat there. There was no blood now. It was only a memory now.

Shivers racked his spine. Without turning on a light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it

Without turning on the light Peter swung his legs off the edge and walked over to his backpack. By feel he found his old notebook and brought it back to his bed. He curled under the covers and flipped to a random page.

Peter couldn’t see the words but he knew they were there stained across the page. The indents from the pen on paper created strange patterns on the tips of his fingers. Some were deep and others he could barely feel at all.

He knew his were the deeper scratches. His scrawling handwriting stabbed into the paper in an attempt to sow all his thoughts into something coherent. In the urgency to prove himself Peter often found his wrist cramping and the sides of his hand smeared with black ink. He wrote as if this was all he could, as his life poured onto the page along with the ink.

The other handwriting took up the margins and like small vines plunged into the spaced between his own thoughts on the page. The indents there were shallow, casual, in their impression. They began sparse, only filling in spaces here and there with notes of encouragement or corrections, but as Peter flipped farther into the book they began to intermingle with his writings. The two merged, playing off of each other and entangling.

Tear drops fell onto the pages, smearing the words into something illegible.

And sleep stayed a stranger till the morning. Peter woke to find the notebook crushed between his fist.

He shoved it in the crack between the wall and his bed frame as the alarm blared, before stumbling to the shower.

-

Please answer. We’re all worried about you - Julia.

Peter shoved his phone into the locker and straightened the visor he was wearing. He’d have to make sure to email her the rest of his work for their project later.

Suppressing a yawn, he walked to the front of the café mentally going over the different coffee recipes he needed to learn.

Cindy, his manager, stared at him as he began cleaning the counter and he wondered again why she was a manager at a coffee shop if she was not a morning person.

“You’re taking orders today. Can you handle that?”

No.

“Sure.” he said.

The cash register glared at him. He tapped the counter wishing the shift would go faster and hoping, against prior reason, school would get there faster.

As he typed in the code for a chai latte and toasted bagel, he berated himself for thinking he would excel at a job at a coffee shop.

There were appealing aspects such as the routine which was filled to the brim with recipes and schedules, but there were drawbacks.  People, however kind they were at normal hours of the day, weren’t at their best in the morning.

His late hours were making work before school a problem he should have seen coming. But all he thought about filling out the applications was that he needed to keep busy, to do something with his time now and not how to talk with customers.

Not to mention, now that his involvement with Stark Industries had ended so prematurely, he had to make up for it with something for his applications.

Cindy wasn’t as accommodating as Barry it turned out and this morning Peter was taking a woman in a smart suit’s order.

“Right up, Ma’am” he said, not making eye contact.

The woman stepped aside, she was a regular and knew the drill, and two teenagers around his age stepped forward asking what their specials were and how they were made.

He couldn’t wait till school.

-

He couldn’t wait till school was over.

Peter sat in stacks of the library, lunch forgotten beside him. His eyes traced over his work and school schedules again. He swallowed. One more glance at all the deadlines in red and closed his planner.

His eyes closed. He exhaled. The air around him was still.

Peter’s mind wandered around safe topics: his new jobs, May’s attempt at making flan, and the laundry he needed to do.

Someone poked him and Peter flinched back, hitting his head against the books.

“Sorry.”

Ned sat next to him munching on pretzels. The boy glanced over from the corner of his eyes and back up the aisle. Peter went to gather his stuff but Ned interrupted him before he could stand up.

“Don’t go. I- I’ll go if you want to be alone but I won’t pester you. Not right now at least.” He said the words softer than necessary for the library and Peter settled back tensed against his spot.

As if calculating his movements, Ned settled back against the shelves. He handed the bag over and Peter grabbed a pretzel, nibbling at the ends of it.

Ned smiled at Peter.

They sat in silence until the bell rang. Ned squeezed Peter’s shoulder before he hurried off to class and handed him the rest of the pretzels.

Peter held back the tightness nestled in his chest.  

-

The time in the library replayed in his mind on the subway into the city.

He’d almost forgotten how understanding Ned could. How patient his friend was.

But he knew the questions would start soon. From Ned or Julia or someone. The curiosity practically burned in their eyes and he couldn’t talk about it. Any of it.

Barry smiled from the front desk when Peter walked in.

“The FT is waiting for you in the back. I got the part she needed.”

Peter nodded and after punching his card, wandered into the back.

May was gone when he got home and a note sat at her place on the kitchen table.  He didn’t heat anything up for dinner and played his filled lunchbox back into the fridge to use tomorrow.

Peter climbed into bed, clothes on and cracked his back. He set an alarm for the coffee shop in the morning and refused to think about May’s handwriting and her missing him at dinner.

He closed his eyes and thought about coffee orders and radio parts.

The new routine was good. Peter was busy now and busy was good.

Not two hours passed from when he laid down that Peter jerked up with nightmares clinging to his pores and sweat sticking to his back.

He groped the notebook in the slot besides the bed and laid there thinking about how tomorrow and the next day would be the same.

How he hated his new routine.

Thank you all for reading! :)

A/N: Barry Electronics is a real shop in New York!

Thank you all!

You can check out my fan fiction (Elizabeth234) or AO3 account as well :)

Taglist (message me if you want to be added): @demi-starzak @whatisthou @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Fifteen: Encounters of a Third Kind 

[rockynfriends]

Rocky’s Stay Chapter 1: A Little Fugue…

(This is the first chapter in a narrative describing Rocky’s time at Fugue’s home, and featuring characters developed by @augmentedampharos)

It takes a moment for the Pikachu to stir under the light falling across his cot in the window, and a moment after that for his eyes to open. He yawns, blinks a couple of times, then stretches before sitting up and looking around.

“Oh. Right.” He murmurs as the still new walls and furniture fill his vision. “I’m…recovering.”

He throws another glance around the room and settles back down, unsure whether he wants to actually get up just yet. It was a decision made in the heat of the moment, staying here. Fugue had offered and he had accepted with hardly a second thought, more out of pain than consideration for what it meant. Not that he really minded. The place was nice enough – certainly not a rescue team base, what with the lack of an emblem and associated “pledge of conduct” hanging on the wall. His morning schedule usually meant early rising – but not having any jobs to do meant he could sleep in if he wanted. It was quiet. Super quiet. Was no one else awake yet?

*patter patter patter patter*

He tilts his ears to the sound and quickly recognizes familiar pacing.

“Fugue’s awake,” he murmurs to himself. “I should go say good morning.”

With some effort he tosses aside the blankets and meanders to the door, before exiting the room and looking about.

“Where’d he go?” Rocky asks no one in particular. “Fugue?”

There’s no immediate reply. His first instinct is to turn around and go back to bed, but upon starting the latter action he smacks into the doorframe and stumbles backwards a few feet before stumbling over his tail and landing on his back.

“Ungh…and they let me on a rescue team,” he says, annoyed with himself.

He lies there a moment, staring at the ceiling and putting a paw over his eye, which he’s almost certain is going to become a black eye even as he covers it.

“And so he lies there, contemplating the fact that he’s been stumbling over himself his whole life…or at least as much as he can remember,” he says in a mocking voice, before sitting back up and shaking his head.

A whistling tune streams through the room as he struggles to his feet. He lets out a quiet sob, shuddering just once before lowering his paw and staring straight ahead. Almost subconsciously, he begins whistling along, hardly aware that he’s doing it. His eyes glaze over.

Five minutes pass like this. Or maybe fifteen. Maybe more. Eventually he snaps to, realizing for the first time that he’s whistling a tune that stopped before he did.

“I don’t think I even know that song,” he mutters. “Bum bum…dun-dun…dadada…” He hums it, racking his brain to try and recognize the tune, but nothing comes up and he eventually gives it up, looking up at the wall and seeing photographs on it. Some faces are familiar, others less so.

“A human,” he says flatly. He’d only seen a few that he remembered, and they were almost all in Team Rocket. “This must be her place. Bet she’s nice.”

A smell wafts through the air and catches his attention. It’s pleasant, and his stomach quietly reminds him that his last meal was at least two days ago.

“Guess I better fix that,” he says, following his sense of smell into a side room.

Fugue is there, serenely arranging items on a tray. He looks up and sees the Pikachu approach.

“Hello Rocky,” he says with a pleasant, slightly surprised, smile. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“I just feel that way,” replies Rocky truthfully. “That smells nice.”

“It’s actually for you,” the Ampharos nods. “I was going to bring it to you, but maybe you’d like it now?”

“Yes please,” Rocky nods. “Oh, I’m sorry. Good morning.”

Fugue nods understandingly. “It’s alright. Would you like to eat right here? We’ve got a spot outside if you’d prefer.”

Rocky shrugs. “Honestly I don’t…care. I hope that doesn’t sound mean, I just…” he trails off.

“It’s not mean. Come on, we’ll go outside. Sunshine is good for both of us.”

He picks up the tray with its various foods and gestures to the door, waiting for Rocky, who follows his gesture so they both end up on a sort of patio with a table and a swing.

“This place is bigger than I thought,” murmurs Rocky.

“Yeah, but it’s not as used as you might expect. Most of us spend our time away and visiting friends.”

“Is that why it’s so quiet?”

“No, we’re just morning ‘mons. Even Pizzicato doesn’t like to be up this early.”

Rocky nods, reaching absently for one of the items on the plate and taking a slow bite.

“Did you sleep alright?” Fugue asks, looking ahead and deftly picking up something for himself.

“I think so. How long was I out?”

“You spent all day yesterday in bed. I came in to check on you a few times though.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be. I think sleep is often overlooked when we think about the essentials.”

Rocky nods, taking another bite. “So what do I do to earn my keep around here?”

Fugue shakes his head. “That’s not how this works. We’re not a rescue team.”

“I have to do something. I can’t not do something.”

Fugue nods, trying to think of something.

“I’m actually here, right? I don’t feel like I am.”

“You’re here, Rocky. I promise you’re here, and I’m right with you.”

“Okay. Thank you,” the Pikachu says, before taking another bite and swallowing. “Fugue?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever think maybe the world would have been better off without you?”

“No, no I don’t. Do you?”

The Pikachu doesn’t answer right away.

“Rocky, do you think things would be better without you?”

“I dunno. It seems like my friends are always having trouble just because I exist.”

Fugue looks up and tilts his head. The words hurt his heart, but all he says is “How do you mean?”

“Cynthia joined Team Rocket to save me. Cass thought I would be mad at them for trying to save me and was lonely for years, and both of them ended up getting killed because of me. Riley…Riley—”

“Riley wouldn’t exist if you didn’t,” Fugue says quietly.

“I know. I’m glad he does…I just…” Rocky trails off.

“Did you attack them?”

“No.”

“Berate them, harm them, or set them up for failure or danger on purpose?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why do you think your existence is what caused what they went through, rather than unfortunate circumstances?”

Rocky falls silent.

“Rocky, we can’t choose everything that happens to us. We can’t choose what happens to others. All we can choose is what kind of individuals we will be. You made your choice a while ago. Do you regret it?”

The Pikachu doesn’t reply.

“Rocky, look at me. Do you regret being the sort of person you chose to be?”

Rocky sighs. “I…I’m not sure.”

“You shouldn’t,” says the Ampharos firmly. “You have had all sorts of opportunities to go wrong and have managed, through all of it, to remain dedicated to doing good for others.”

“It doesn’t always work. Sometimes I get it wrong.”

“We all do, Rocky. That’s part of being alive. Imperfection is…life. Cass is supposed to protect…what, everything? And even they have made mistakes. Don’t sit there and blame yourself for bad things in the past.”

“It’s hard.”

“I know. Trust me, I know,” murmurs the Ampharos, thinking about his sister for a moment. “But growth means letting go of things or people that hurt us or those we love and resolving to be better than those who caused pain.”

“I wish I was stronger.”

Fugue nods. “There isn’t a living soul that doesn’t wish that at one time or another, Rocky. It doesn’t make you weak or a bad friend, though.”

Rocky is silent, but his eyes, dull until that moment, begin to show a familiar spark.

“Bum bum…dun-dun…dadada…” he hums.

“Oh, you heard that?”

“Yeah. It’s weird, because I feel like I should recognize it, but don’t. What is it?”

“Beats me,” chuckles the Ampharos. “Like you, I feel like I should know it, but I can’t quite pin down the origin or name.”

“Then maybe I can figure it out while I’m here,” Rocky says with a hint of a smile.

“You always have liked looking for the answers,” replies Fugue, nodding and gently patting his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, but first, can you help me with these?”

“Sure,” Rocky picks up the tray, and together they enter the house.

[korkrunchcereal]

The Red Dahlia

(Find the previous part here) 

It took the better part of that afternoon to find even a scrap of information on the Red Dahlia. Valkorius’ recommended inns and brothels from ten thousand years ago had proved to be almost entirely dated. Very few still remained, far less than either Valkorius or Aurelian had hoped for. It was nearly a dozen such establishments until a clue was finally given from one particularly garrulous innkeeper who had insisted Aurelian and Valkorius stay for the house wine. It nearly made Aurelian gag, though he stomached it well enough to satisfy the innkeeper.

The information on the Red Dahlia had cost the two the wine’s price, which was undoubtedly overpriced and was something Aurelian begrudgingly paid for using the few gold coins he had on his clothing. He was near penniless here in Suramar save for three gold coins, but he had a lead. The Red Dahlia used to frequent a brothel known as the Bountiful Boudoir which was according to the innkeeper nearby. Indeed, several frequent stayers of the inn often visited the brothel to partake in its ‘selections’. With mutters of overpriced swill Aurelian left with Valkorius in tow, stepping out into a chill wind. Aurelian shuddered, stifling a yawn as he realized it was nearing dusk.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Aurelian said aloud as his yawn ended, looking to Valkorius as he exited the dimly lit inn. So far the Indaris progenitor had been mostly silent, his silver eyes narrowed in thought. The man nodded, waving a hand down the street from where they had originally come from.

“It is a short walk from here, though we must be wary.”

“Wary? What for? The street is deserted.”

“Precisely. We saw quite a large number of guards and demons nearer to the palace, but here on the outskirt? Deserted of guard forces save a few scattered patrols here or there. They’ve abandoned it to the rebel forces, which means more dangerous elements may be prowling.”

“Well I don’t have a weapon, so it doesn’t matter if we’re attacked or not anyways. Plus, my shoulder still aches from the damn bolt. There’s not much I am able to do apart from some quick spells.” Valkorius simply stared at Aurelian before moving rapidly, forcing Aurelian to jog briefly to catch up.

“Has my lineage really weaned out the magical prowess of our people to such a degree that it cannot defend itself unarmed?” Aurelian curled his lip in annoyance at the perceived insult.

“Seven thousand years can do that. Unfortunately, my father was not so magically inclined, nor his father before him. It grew weaker in our blood shortly after the Troll Wars; marriages with lesser nobles amongst some of my ancestors will do that.”

“The Troll Wars…was that not a few thousand years ago?” Aurelian gave him an incredulous look, until he remembered Valkorius had not actually lived in Quel’thalas in seven millennia. He was more surprised Valkorius had heard of the event, though surmised it was due to either supposed rebel contacts or his rescuers on the Isle.

“Yes, but our family began marrying light practitioners over those of the arcane. The former was reportedly of ‘lesser men’, but that may be simply altered history. Either way, it was eventually bred out with knowledge of the light replacing it. We still hold our inherent gift with the arcane, but-“

“But my family is no longer masters of it.” Aurelian went silent for a moment, before nodding.

“Correct. It is an unfortunate imperfection on our house. Now, as for being unable to defend myself I will be perfectly fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been unarmed.”

“I suppose we shall see. Look, there.” Valkorius pointed ahead to a rather plain building. “Our brothel, if the innkeeper’s words are to be believed.”

“For the price I paid, they better be believed. “ The two walked ahead, Aurelian looking u pat the sign hanging from the door. Sure enough in faded gold letters it said The Bountiful Boudoir, with the image of a winking Nightborne woman’s face right below.  Already Aurelian could hear raised voices inside, and as Valkorius opened the door which creaked in the motion, he saw why it was so loud. Aurelian gave Valkorius a hard look, whispering to him. “Abandoned hmm?”

The brothel was full of Nightborne, at least ten in total. Among them were both beautiful women and men offering their ‘unique’ services, a rather dour looking bouncer who eyed the two as they entered with a wary look, and what looked to be four guards chatting with themselves as they drank, or trying to buy the services of the brothel’s workers. Strangely there was a tension in the air, as if the brothel occupants feared every guards movements. Judging from the glances they gave to the guards, that was certainly the case.

“Aurelian,” Valkorius muttered as they made their way in, ignoring the looks the guards gave, “We have to play this carefully. These guards complicate matters…if they overhear us looking for the Red Dahlia they may interfere.”

“They’re here to escape conflict and the horrors of life, or in this case perhaps escaping duty. If we don’t interrupt their pleasure, we should be fine. Let’s just make our way to the desk and ask a few questions.” Valkorius did not respond, simply sliding his way past a woman dressed in little more than a string of silk around her ‘assets’. The woman mumbled something to Valkorius but he ignored it as he approached the desk.

“Can I help you gentlemen.” A rather dry, feminine voice called from a door behind the desk. An eldery woman stepped out from the doorframe, sauntering slowly. Aurelian looked down at the desk, noticing a leather book. “Please, feel free to browse. If you wish the services of one of our courtesans tonight, do let me know.”

Aurelian flipped open the book casually, feigning interest. There was artistic renditions of the courtesans, undoubtedly accentuating certain attributes. All of the individuals were of course beautiful, their names labelled beneath.  He paused over one woman’s image, tilting his head. He turned around, looking at the courtesans present. This one wasn’t there.

“Ah yes, miss Cyrenia is currently…unavailable.” There was a slight pause that both Aurelian and Valkorius caught, though they did not press the issue.

“Actually, I have a question concerning someone that’s not a courtesan.” Valkorius stated. Aurelian closed the book then softly, tilting his head back to see if the guards were paying attention. They weren’t, instead now being led up a flight of stairs by the hand by both male and female courtesans. The woman that had tried to get Valkorius attention was the only one remaining, who now eyed Aurelian with a hungry look.

“Oh? What can Madam Elanor help you with, my lord?” The elderly woman placed both hands on the desk, tapping long, fake fingernails against the wood.

“I am looking for a woman; a friend if you will. She has gone missing and I’ve started to grow worried.” Madam Elanor had a strange look for a moment, her tapping stopping. “I was told by another innkeeper she used to frequent here. Aldronya, if you’ve heard the name.”

“Lots of men and women frequent this establishment, my lord. To remember the name would be somewhat impossible.” Aurelian noticed one of her hands was moving behind the desk now, ears perking as he heard the sounds of the guards ‘rigorous’ activities occurring above. Valkorius also noticed it, though did not react.

“Perhaps a physical description is in order. My friend here can describe her much better than I can. Lord Woodborne?” Aurelian blinked in surprise, though quickly collected himself.

“Yes, she has dark brunette hair, a scar across her nose; quite tall of course, and rather gifted in…certain regards.” Aurelian spotted the flat look Valkorius gave from the corner of his eyes. “And has a tattoo around her wrist. Red lines, leading to a flower.” He had guessed that last bit; he never saw the tattoo, though assumed with a name like the Red Dahlia it was the flower of her namesake. It seemed the description brought some form of recognition, for the madam narrowed her eyes.

“I am afraid I must ask you both to leave my establishment.” She looked behind Valkorius, giving a nod towards someone. Aurelian turned, sighing as the bouncer pushed himself off the wall he was leaning, drawing forward with fists clenched. Valkorius did not turn however, instead leaning against the desk.

“Madam, I can make it worth the information for our friend.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself sir. If you do not leave willingly, Erasmus will make you leave by force.” Aurelian heard the bouncer crack his knuckles, turning his body fully to face him. The courtesan that had remained behind had vanished undoubtedly to some side room to avoid any potential violence about to break out.

“Since you do know something, I suppose it’ll be force. Woodborne, take care of Erasmus please.” Aurelian whipped his head to Valkorius, giving him a blank look.

“Are you serious.” Aurelian turned, eyes widening as he ducked under Erasmus’ meaty fist that sailed through the air. Another wild punch was thrown as Aurelian weaved around it. He didn’t hear whatever Valkorius was saying to the madam now as he pushed himself off the desk right into the bouncer, shoving him back several steps. Annoyed now, Erasmus grabbed Aurelian and tossed him to one of the walls, the elf hitting the wall with a loud crash.

“Leave now.” The bouncer uttered, voice deep and booming. “Or the next toss is out the door on your ass.” Aurelian groaned as he got up, winding his right arm and wincing from the bolt wound still there.

“Try me, brute.” The bouncer sighed, moving forward to grab Aurelian. Aurelian pushed himself off the wall into the bouncer, sending a right hook that smashed against his cheek. The bouncer stumbled back, having no time to recover as Aurelian sent another punch against his chin. Two blows were all it took for the man to fall back slowly, slamming onto the ground with a resounding thud.

Aurelian winced as he pulled back his arm, looking at his hand to see if it was scratched in any way. He briefly glanced up at Valkorius and the madam with an annoyed look. The madam by that point had drawn a knife, pointing it at Valkorius with bristling anger. She looked over at the commotion of her bouncer falling, rolling her eyes in disappointment. That brief distraction was all it took however as Valkorius brought up his hand, waving it. The dagger’s tip began to glow with a sickly green hue, before the metal of the blade began to melt. The madam hissed as she dropped the dagger’s hilt, stepping back.

“Fel magic.”

“Yes, and do you know what fel magic does.” Valkorius asked. When she did not answer, he continued. “Just as it can corrode metal it can dissolve skin, muscle and bone in mere moments. You can watch every agonizing second of your body turn to a sizzling puddle. That is just one of the many fun things I can do with fel magic.”

“What do you want.” The madam finally muttered, composing herself as she realized Valkorius was not about to attack.

“Information on the Red Dahlia. I want to know why she’s working against the rebels.”

“If you were her friend you’d know she has no love for the demons or loyalist forces, stranger.”

“Then why did she kill four nobles, including a rebel sympathizer.” At that the madam paused, tilting her head in confusion.

“What?” When Valkorius nodded the woman sighed, leaning against the desk with her hands. Aurelian noticed the previous courtesan enter the room from one of the side doors, cautiously eyeing the fallen bouncer then Aurelian.

“Lady Stargrove was aiding the rebels by providing information on patrols, as well as aiding their escape from the city. She was murdered by the Red Dahlia.”

“Damn; I was hoping that wasn’t her.” She paused for a moment , as if contemplating whether she should talk. “I suppose then you’re rebel supporters.” Valkorius nodded, motioning for the madam to continue. “Aldronya used to be a frequent customer here, fancied one of our courtesans. They became lovers, I believe. About three fortnights ago, some huffed up man and his men came in asking about Aldronya’s lover, wondering if they could buy her for the evening. All three were cloaked. I had an uneasy feeling about them, and told them she was unavailable.”

“Did you get their names?” Valkorius asked, waving a hand for Aurelian to join him. Aurelian’s brow narrowed at the mention of a lover, eyes falling on the leather book still resting on the desk.

“Cyrenia was her lover I’m presuming?” Aurelian questioned, folding his hands together as he leaned on the desk.

“Yes, she was. As for their names, I did not catch them. They simply left without further word. The next night though…more came back. There were seven of them, all guards of course, as well as one of their demonic enforcers. They demanded I hand over Cyrenia on suspicion of rebel activity, and if I did not comply they would arrest everyone who worked in The Bountiful Boudoir or give them to the demon. Cyrenia gave herself over to them. Since then, I haven’t seen Cyrenia or Aldronya, though I’ve seen enough of the damn guards for a lifetime here.”

“So they took Cyrenia as leverage against Aldronya.” Aurelian muttered over to Valkorius, who nodded in response. “They wouldn’t have killed her or Aldronya wouldn’t be a puppet on their string.” He turned his attention back to the madam, eyes narrowing. “And you have no idea who took her?”

“None. I didn’t get a good look at them, and the guards who took her were normal guards like the idiots upstairs.”

“Damn. Thank you for the information, madam.” Valkorius turned to leave, pausing mid-step. “And if you could not let the guards know anything about us, I’d be most appreciative.”

“Not a word will leave my lips. Gentlemen, a good evening.” Both Valkorius and Aurelian left as the bouncer was just waking up, groaning. As they exited the brothel, night had already fallen on the city. The streets remained abandoned, leaving the two alone to contemplate.

“What’s our next step?” Aurelian asked, turning to Valkorius. “I can only assume the lord was Corvayon, but we have no idea where he may have taken Cyrenia.”

“I’m not sure,” Valkorius confessed. “Our options are limited. We ca-“ he paused, ears perking as he turned around back towards the brothel. Aurelian raised a brow, following where he was looking. The brothel door swung open, the barely dressed courtesan all but leaping out.

“Wait!” She shouted, blinking as she realized they were still right outside. “Oh, I thought you had wandered off already.”

“No. Can we help you miss…?”

“Saris, my lords. You said you were lookin’ for Aldronya?” Both Aurelian and Valkorius shared a look before nodding. “I don’t know where her or Cyrenia are, but I can tell you about the man that questioned for Cyren.”

“Oh? What can you tell us.” Valkorius placed his hands together, eyes focused on the woman. She seemed to shrink under his gaze but continued.

“He was a rather important sounding man, rolled his r’s all dramatically. When him and his men passed by I smelled juniper and ginger, neither of which is cheap here. They wore red cloaks with a golden dragon on them and-“

“A golden dragon?” Valkorius interrupted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, on a red background. I tried to offer the man a good time when the madam told him Cyrenia was unavailable, but he called me a whore and left. Bastard.” Valkorius looked at Aurelian, giving a nod before turning his attention back to the girl.

“You’ve been most helpful miss Saris. I appreciate the information.” The woman gave a curtsey in response.

“Of course, my lords. Cyrenia was a friend, and all the girls liked Aldronya. If you can help them, id be thankful.” She turned to leave as Aurelian was reaching into one of his pockets.

“Wait.” He called out. The girl paused, eyeing Aurelian. Her eyes widened as he withdrew two gold coins, gratefully taking the money that Aurelian offered out. “For the information.”

“T-thank you, my lord! If you ever find yourself in the area again, I can show you the most wonderful evening you’ll ever have.” She gave a wink, before leaving the two alone.

“That was awfully kind of you.” Valkorius stated as he watched the woman return to the brothel.          

“That had nothing to do with kindness. She offered a service, albeit one she probably wasn’t used to. Plus, if the guards or anyone question her about us, she hopefully won’t rat us out. Now, a gold dragon? Is that not the sigil of Erimonte?”

“As is the crimson clothing. Looks like it wasn’t my son that took the girl. It would seem Erimonte is indeed in league with Illuria. I knew he had been supporting the Legion, but I had figured his political goals clashed with Illuria. I say it’s time we pay Erimonte a visit and find out where he imprisoned Cyrenia.”

“Isn’t Erimonte’s estate on the opposite side of the city?” Valkorius didn’t answer, instead breaking into a run towards a side alley. Aurelian rolled his eyes, muttering a curse as he took off after him.

[patricia-von-arundel]

Shards of Life: Prologue

Rating: T

Summary: There is magic in the world - perhaps there always has been. But the world is changing. The wielding of magic is changing. 

There are those who seek to control it. Those who seek to destroy it. And those who seek to understand it… whatever the cost.

From seasons born, time of winter  Eternity as a sword (shard?) in a woman’s hands It will find all, and many from one Festering and dead lands, a cankered heart Draw forth from the wound and purge decay Only in her death can seasons change From winter is born new life, world anew

~A.G., c. 1835, trans. from Old Norse

It felt afterward as if the whole day had been awash in shadow, doom hanging like a fog, no matter how outwardly innocent events. He knew it wasn’t true. But truth, in the end, was irrelevant. The emotions ruled all, the entirety of his existence, as they had for as long as he could remember. And that day, more than any other, truly showed the strength that they might wield. He walked into town immediately after breakfast, that day. They had fish, he remembered that, and there was bread and butter and jam, and he tucked his letter into his shirt pocket so he would get nothing on it. He had rewritten it for the third time the night before, and his father said one of his ships was going to Oslo and could take it along, see that it was delivered. "Do you need a ride in?" his father asked, but he shook his head and said no, he would walk - he liked walking, the freedom of keeping his own pace, his own schedule. He sometimes wondered what would happen if he never stopped, just kept going with the shoes on his feet and the clothes on his back, following the road wherever it might lead. How far would he have to go to escape? His brother was looking at him, stealing glances from beneath the curls that hung stubbornly over his eyes. His brother, he knew, did not want him to go - to town, to Oslo, to anywhere - but at nine years old, he knew that he was unhappy, but not how to prevent the loss, not how to keep his family here, where he wanted them. He was the youngest, he had known nothing else. And for now, he accepted it silently, glancing but saying nothing. "You’re sure this is what you want?" his mother asked. It was. "Be certain," she said - no pride or hope in her voice, but also no argument. Perhaps they had already, in some way, let him go. "I’m certain," he said. He saw his brother watching from the window as he set out. He waved, but his brother did not wave back. The day was cool and overcast, but not uncomfortably so; it felt good to be out of the house, outside, late spring awash in budding trees and blooming wildflowers and the smell of turned earth in fields newly planted. He wondered if there would be anything like this in Oslo, a big city – would there be trees and flowers and fields, narrow dirt lanes and quiet sounds and all the pleasure of solitude in an hour’s walk to town? He had never lived anywhere but here; had never seen anything like he imagined Oslo to be except in pictures, in books or in the journals to which his father subscribed. He patted the pocket of his shirt, reassuring himself that the letter was still there - and, peripherally, attempting to reassure himself of the decision he had made. He had claimed he was certain. He wanted to be certain. And certain or not - the further he got from home, as always, the more clear became the knowledge of the necessity of leaving. He had begun to fear that if he didn’t leave soon, he would never be allowed to go at all. Reaching the fork where the narrow path home met the wider coast road, the two merging towards the smoky blur of the town walls, he hitched a ride in the back of a wagon delivering what smelled suspiciously like crates of onions. That was alright - up until that day, it was not a smell he particularly minded. Town was bustling, as it always was at the changing of seasons. The old medieval roads might be paved now with stone, but they were still narrow and quickly congested, wagons and carts slowing to a placid crawl of grumbling drivers and resigned horses. He paid the driver of the onion crates a few skillings for his time, then set out once more on foot, ducking down the alleyways of the oldest streets. The buildings here were looming and crumbling, ancient structures dating almost as far back as whichever of his half-mythical ancestors had decided to abandon foreign pillaging in exchange for a perhaps less adventurous, but certainly lengthier, life of farming. Now, the tiny heart of the town that had built up around his sons and grandsons was squalid and make-do, stinking of damp wood and rotting food and the effluvia of too many people crammed into rooms built for half as many. There was talk every year of tearing it all down, but his father didn’t want to pay for it, and who else was going to do so? But it wasn’t his problem to solve. He was going to Oslo. He wasn’t equipped to be a leader - something everyone would always make sure he understood, had always made sure he understood. He went down to the docks, which were marginally less crowded than the center of town - there wasn’t a whole lot of trade in and out, this time of year, water still too rough for safe travel. The wealth of his family came from here: north and south met at these shores, where kingdom and continent negotiated and the mediator reaped the spoils. He had once come here with his father, sometimes his brother too, and as his father talked trade agreements and negotiated pay disputes, he played along the shoreline, searching for treasure: bottles and broken crates and fraying coils of rope. He watched ships laboriously making their way to port, cumbersome and heavy-bodied. He listened to sailors shouting in a hundred tongues; marveled at the accents of the captains and commanders who spoke to his father. Once, this had been a wondrous place. His father’s master of trade was in his cluttered little shed of an office, muttering over ledgers, the grunt-work of actual negotiation left to his underlings. “Oslo, eh?” He took the folded paper, ran a finger over the seal. “Sure you’re ready for that, young thing like you?” "I hope so." "Well, your mama will miss you. They always do." She wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be allowed. But he said nothing. "I’ll see to it it goes on Haraldssen’s boat, all right? Should be no more than a few days. And tell your papa that the Uppsala shipment is expected before the end of the week, if he wants it expedited onward." "I will." "Good boy." He left before he could ask for the letter back. He walked quickly and along the main roads this time, dodging and weaving through crowded streets, keeping his mind occupied. No rides now; he wanted to keep moving. The wind was picking up as he turned again homewards, whipping through the trees, sending the long grasses bending across the path, lashing at his legs. The clouds were restless, boiling and rolling and darkening, and the promise of rain hung heavy in the air. But there was something more. Not just anxiety about the letter - this was something else, something darker, and the closer he grew to home, the more oppressive it felt, a weight on his chest, settling around his lungs, his heart. He walked faster. Then he started to run. He reached the house breathless and terrified. The sky was black, rain beginning to fall, leaving dark, muddy splotches on the round pathway that led to the front door; he ran across the grass. The letter. The letter, he should never have told them, he could have gone, disappeared. He shouldn’t have been a coward. He had known. He had always known. And he had done it anyway. Good boy. Fear and rage and a manic glee - they hung heavier than the clouds around the dark house. He felt his breath hitching painfully, the weight on his lungs now a clamp. His hands fumbled and shook, struggling with the door, his arms weak, flaccid. Inside, all was dark and silent, the pattering of rain against the window the only imperfection in the stillness. The servants would have gone away, of course - probably no explanation nor orders given, but not a single one of them would ever question it. They might not come back at all; it had happened before. His heart was pounding; he felt lightheaded and weak, shaky, his feet too heavy. But he forced himself to search - methodical, down the halls, room by room. He had fought these feelings so often, in the past. He would do it again. They were in the library. The blood was already congealing on the rug, hardly visible against the dark weave, the heavy shadows: the curtains had not been drawn, nor the lamps lit. They were seated next to one another, as if discussing a matter in private. Their son moving to Oslo, perhaps. His mother had been run through repeatedly, her midsection a torn, bloody mess; her head had fallen back against the couch, sightless eyes fixed on the criss-crossing beams high above. His father was slumped forward, his hands still wrapped tightly around the sword with which he had run himself through. For a long, breathless moment, he could only stare - and in that moment, he felt nothing at all. Then it hit again, a wave of terror and grief and anger, and he stumbled backward, clutching the doorframe, his hand sliding sickeningly along it, the skin of his palm shredding against the rough wood, his knees giving out. He collapsed onto them, hissing at the pain when his torn hand found the cold floor. He threw up: fish and bread and butter and jam. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He stood on shaky legs. He walked back down the hall and up the stairs, clutching the banister with his uninjured hand. His head was throbbing, resisting. He ignored it. His brother at the window. At the breakfast table, eyes beneath that fringe of hair, morose and hopeless - and so young. His brother’s room, now - a small figure, huddled in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, face hidden. He went to him, crouched before him. And he said, “I’m still here.”

[theajaheira]

imperfections (40/?)

ao3

y’all this update came about because i reread most of the braveryverse over the weekend and remembered why i loved it so!!!!! enjoy!!!! i’m going to throw myself into this. and the soulmate fic. and the office au. and the 50,000 other projects i’ve started. yikes

Xander woke up early and felt a moment of confusion before remembering the fight he’d had with his dad last night. It wasn’t the worst that had ever happened, just loud and drunken accusations from his dad while his mom stood tight-lipped and washed dishes, but for some reason Xander had completely lost his temper and ran. He’d pushed past his dad and ran down to the basement and grabbed the emergency bag Willow had made for him when they were in freshman year and ran the fifteen blocks to Giles and Ms. Calendar’s.

Giles stepped into the room and sat down in the easy chair, looking supremely uncomfortable.

“Uh, hey,” said Xander awkwardly, not sure how to deal with Giles this early in the morning. “I can, I can leave,” he fumbled, all of his determined conviction dissipating at the concept of being unwelcome.

“No, it’s fine.” Giles took off his glasses, polishing them furiously. “Jenny’s under the impression that—well, that your home life isn’t exactly ideal, and she wanted me to extend an invitation for you to spend some time here. A-at least until you’ve figured out a more permanent living situation.”

This was when Xander caught sight of Faith, leaning against a wall and watching him from behind a history textbook in the kitchen. “You sure you guys have enough space for me?” he said awkwardly, trying not to let on that he’d seen Faith listening in.

“Not for anything permanent,” Ms. Calendar answered shortly, entering the room and sitting down on the arm of Giles’s chair, “but you can crash on our couch for the rest of the school year if that’s the way things are looking with your parents.”

Xander breathed out. Ms. Calendar looked unusually angry, but he got the sense that it wasn’t directed at him. “I don’t—I don’t know,” he said finally. “I—ran away, once, a few years back, but I ended up going back."

Ms. Calendar and Giles exchanged a look that Xander didn’t quite get. Then Ms. Calendar said in a strained tone of voice, “You should have told us things with your parents were bad enough for you to want to run away, Xander.”

“Right, when you’d just been tortured by a crazy vampire and Giles had skipped town because he couldn’t deal?” Xander was being awful, he knew that, but if they focused in on how awful he was being then maybe they wouldn’t get as upset about the other thing he’d just said. He didn’t want their pity. “You had a lot on your plate last summer. No way I was adding to it.”

Giles looked down and didn’t say anything.

Ms. Calendar nodded to herself. “Okay,” she said quietly. Then, louder, “Okay. Xander, you are staying here. Rupert, Faith, we’re not going in to school today, I’ll call us all in sick. This is—” She drew in a sharp, pained breath. “You should have told us,” she said, and exited the room, hurrying down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Giles’s expression was unreadable, his eyes downcast.

“That was a low blow on my part,” said Xander awkwardly. “About you not being able to deal. Sorry about that.”

“The worst accusations are the ones with truth to them,” said Giles quietly, and looked up. “If the people around me are getting hurt and I am so willing to overlook it on so many different occasions, it’s safe to say that I, as you so aptly put it, can’t deal.”

“Yeah, well,” Xander shrugged, feeling suddenly awful, “it’s not your job to take care of me. It’s your job to train Buffy.”

Giles looked over his shoulder and down the hallway. In the kitchen, Ms. Calendar was leaning down to place her hand on Faith’s shoulder and saying something that Xander couldn’t hear. “I think I need to re-evaluate my job options,” said Giles.

Giles drove everyone down to a diner in the same part of town as the Bronze. While Xander and Faith were having a stilted conversation about school and putting overly gratuitous amounts of syrup on their waffles, Giles and Jenny went out under the guise of getting money from an ATM and had the first genuine alone time they’d managed in weeks.

“I feel awful,” said Jenny miserably. “I mean, he made allusions, but I never thought—god, and Willow’s parents are never around either, and I just ignored her in favor of Faith, Rupert why are there so many kids in my life that I’m doing such a shitty job of taking care of—”

“It truly isn’t as simple as that,” Giles managed. He felt even worse than Jenny. “You—you’ve been trying to mentor and support three children at the same time, completely on your own. I’ve been single-mindedly focused on you and Buffy, and I haven’t once considered that the rest of the children could use my presence as well.” He took off his glasses, polishing them even though he knew they were clean. He didn’t want to look at Jenny. “This is more my fault than it is yours.”

“You know,” said Jenny, “I kinda wish it was still last year. My biggest problems then were relationship drama and a homicidal vampire targeting me.”

Giles tried to laugh. It didn’t really work.

“You think he’ll be okay on our couch for now?” Jenny asked, still sounding thoroughly wrung out. “The house isn’t really big enough for you, me, him, Faith, and a bunch of your books.”

“We’ll work out something more permanent eventually,” Giles answered. “Right now, I think it’s most important that we’re there for him.”

Jenny snorted. “You realize the irony in saying that when we’re walking down the street away from him, right?”

“You make a good point.” Giles took Jenny’s hand, turning them back around toward the diner.

Faith had finished her waffles and had ordered herself and Xander two milkshakes by the time Giles and Jenny got back. “It’s a celebration breakfast,” she was explaining with determined cheer. “This is how you celebrate getting away from shitty parents. Day after I left my mom, I—” She stopped talking when she saw them both, taking a long sip of her milkshake to cover it up.

Jenny sat down next to Faith and hugged her, hard. Giles, after a moment of frightened hesitation, sat down next to Xander and began a panicked mental debate with himself about whether or not Xander now expected a hug.

“I’m fine,” Faith was saying to Jenny, but her voice caught a little and she hugged Jenny back. “Sheesh. Just—trying to be helpful.”

“I’m very proud of you,” Jenny whispered, and let go of Faith, turning to Giles and Xander. “Rupert, calm down, I don’t think Xander needs a hug. Xander, you want any more food?”

Xander shrugged distantly. “I’m good,” he said. “I’m full, I think.”

“Cool.” Jenny took a sip of her half-finished coffee. “We should get going, then.”

“Jenny, you can’t just have coffee and count that as breakfast,” Giles objected.

Jenny waved a hand dismissively. “Xander, Faith, we’re going to drop you off at the house so that Rupert and I can run a few errands,” she said.

“Errands?” Faith echoed, frowning. “What kind of errands?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” said Jenny in a suspiciously breezy tone of voice.

Giles had the distinct sense that whatever they were doing would probably upset one or both of the children. Honestly, the fact that this woman had hidden her secret motives from him for months last year was something he would never be able to understand; she was absolutely horrible at hiding her motives right now. Gracefully, he covered for her. “Groceries,” he said helpfully.

“And we can’t come why?” Faith inquired.

Xander smiled a little, looking up. “Yeah, last I remember it was you guys getting into a fight at the grocery store,” he quipped, which made Giles feel a bit better.

“Because we want to maintain our dignity and pretend that that was an isolated incident,” said Jenny with relief, shooting Giles a thank-you look. “So we’re going to drive you two home and you’re going to watch cartoons while Rupert and I buy groceries.”

They didn’t buy groceries.

Tony Harris had left for work, Jessica Harris was out actually buying groceries, and Jenny (being the impulsive and furious woman that she was) was now attempting to break into his house with a bobby pin. “That son of a bitch, scaring his kid enough to run him out of the house,” she was muttering ominously. “I’m going to take Xander’s stuff and I’m going to take a few other things too just so that asshole can—”

Placing a calming hand on the small of Jenny’s back, Giles reminded her, “First of all, dear, I’m fairly certain that the maneuver you’re attempting only works with practice. Also, you’ve overlooked the fact that his key is under the welcome mat.”

Jenny looked up. “What? Oh. Oh, god, Rupert, why did I not think of that—”

Giles turned Jenny away from the door and into his arms, reaching around her to unlock the door. She turned her face into his jacket, resting her cheek on his shoulder very briefly before they broke apart. “Do you know what we need?” he inquired.

“I don’t know,” said Jenny. “Everything. I don’t know.” She opened the door, hurrying into the house. “Find a bag somewhere, just, just take everything out to the car.”

Giles leaned against the doorframe, suddenly exhausted. There were too many moving pieces in his life, all of a sudden, too many things he’d invested himself in. Part of himself wanted to re-enter that mentality of the Council being the most important part of his life, but the Council wouldn’t condone what he was doing right now, and something about that made Giles more than a little certain that he wasn’t the type of Watcher they’d want.

Maybe he wasn’t the Watcher type at all. Most other Watchers didn’t have a past that involved joining a rebellious demon-raising cult and having a clearly unstable romantic relationship with a clearly unstable chaos mage. Most other Watchers had already accepted a solitary life as fact—

Jenny threw a bag of clothing down the stairs. “Honey,” she called, sounding stretched thin, “I get that you’re feeling awful, because I do too, but we really need to speed things up here if we’re going to get out of this house without getting caught.”

This’ll make truly excellent material for my Watcher diaries, Giles thought as he picked up the bag of clothing and exited towards Jenny’s car. Breaking into a civilian home. He picked up the bag, taking it out to the car.

Jenny came down to the car with two more bags, both significantly full. “There wasn’t actually a lot of stuff,” she said, shoving the bags violently into the backseat of her car. “Just a lot of clutter. I’m gonna have to apologize to Xander; this isn’t exactly the neatest packing job.”

Giles placed the bag of clothing down and pulled Jenny into his arms. She made a choked noise and buried her face in his shoulder, and some part of him felt comforted by the certainty of her. He felt like he was on the verge of figuring out something important, but he couldn’t quite discern what just yet.

[bonniebird]

Hunted

Elijah x Reader

Requested by Anon

Warnings: Not smut but still smutty, Klaus ripping into Twilight, Elijah being a weird horny vampire stalker

You smiled when someone sent over a drink. With a glance of confusion you went to had it to Rebekah before the bartender corrected you. Elijah smiled with amusement. Normally they were the ones that spoiled you.

As the night went on, Rebekah found something to entertain her, while you went on to chat with the person who had brought you a drink. Elijah was keeping an eye on you and every now and then you’d pull him into your conversation.

“Elijah you look so out of place.” You giggled and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top if his shirt.

“I do apologise.” He muttered sarcastically, smiling when you rolled your eyes and turned back to the man who was now trying to gain your attention again.

Elijah had been particularly fond of you. The two of you were close, so close he’d often threatened Klaus to protect you. At first assumption he assumed the man, who was dramatically telling you an absurd story, was trying to take you home. But the unsettling doubt sunk in. There was no reason to assume anything but for some reason the longer you chatted with him the more irritable Elijah was becoming.

You laughed and flirted while letting the man lead you out of the bar. “Elijah!” you yelped when he suddenly caught the man by the throat and almost growled at him all in a blur.

“Was I interrupting.” He asked calmly and let the man go, watching him scurry off.

“No, nothing.” You sighed out sarcastically and frowned at him.“You should a little nicer or you’ll get a reputation.”

“I already have a reputation Sweetheart.” He muttered as he strolled towards you and tangled his hand in your hair as he walked you back against the wall. “I’m not entirely sure you really want me to be nice.”

“Well nice for a Mikaelson so you know… no snapping teeth.” You snapped your teeth at Elijah who chuckled and leant in, humming as your body tensed as his nose brushed against your neck.

“Are you sure you want that, I don’t think you do.” He muttered against your skin as he dragging his blunted teeth against the skin of your neck, forcing a whimpered moan to escape you. “That's what I thought.”

In a flash Elijah moved you out of the street and down a side road that no one would spot you. Kissing you roughly and tugging your bottom lip through his teeth. Your fingers raked at his hair as he continued to kiss you and tease your skin.

“Really Elijah, I didn’t think you would be the one to have a lady in the streets.” Rebekah chuckled, wiping blood from her mouth as she strolled over and ‘rescued’ you from Elijah.

“I assume you enjoyed your meal?” He asked as his fingers brushed the back of your neck and the tingle of being hunted ran through you as the hairs on your neck stood on end.

“It was delightful, as I’m sure yours would have been.” She smiled knowingly at you when your eyes remained blown while you tried to avoid looking directly at Elijah.

“I wouldn’t know I never got down far enough to taste.” He drawled out and your whole body jolted as you almost squeaked.

“Elijah your jealousy would be entirely to much for (Y/N).” Rebekah offered protectively and pulled you away from Elijah’s hand to give you enough space to recover some sense or control.

He frowned as his sister led you away. He wasn’t jealous. He simply couldn’t take the idea of the man you’d chosen being the one to do all the things that flashed through his mind as you smiled at him. He groaned at the thought of your voice that had him at your beck and call, moaning and begging for him. His name whimpered as your body arched into his hands.

His teeth and worn hands running over delicately soft skin. Your willingness to be pliable to his every need. After clearing his throat and gaining some control over himself he headed home, pleased to find everyone had left but the sound of your heartbeat told him you were sleeping.

“Elijah.” you whimpered as he walked past your door. For a moment he paused and opened your door, watching carefully to check if you were awake. The breeze rolled through your open window as you lay spread on your bed, the sheets almost covering you but not enough to hide your night shirt clinging to you, one leg exposed as the sheet pooled between your legs.

He stepped into the room silently and brushed his thumb over your lips, still swollen from his prior onslaught of kisses. When you moaned for him again he stroked across your cheek and down his neck.

Someone cleared their throat and a delighted Klaus stood in the doorway. “Watching a girl sleep how… modern of you, I believe the new agey vampires exit through the window as well and they sparkle which is all very exciting.” He taunted smugly.

“I wanted to check if she was alright.” Elijah muttered which was half true, he had at first thought you were afraid and calling for him.

“Yes well, I imagine nearly being devoured by an Original is rather traumatic.” Klaus sighed with a chuckle.

“Bloody hell what are you two doing in here!” Rebekah scolded as she found the both looking down on you as you slept. “It is disturbing how comfortable she is with us.”

“(Y/N) was dreaming of Elijah and our brother ever the gentleman, came to check on her.” Klaus declared quietly. “He may be about to burst into a sparkling display of bad choices and horribly written lines.”

You moaned and rolled in your sleep making all three of the Mikaelsons’ freeze and shuffled out of the room. “Do not, invade her dreams!” Rebekah snapped at Elijah who glanced back at you after she left.

“What do you think you’re doing in that head of hers, brother?” Klaus asked, taunting as ever. He smiled when Elijah seemed even more curious and leant on your doorframe.

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[sinkingsidewalks]

No Future But Itself

Jemma’s death because I am a monster.

Read On Ao3

There’s a snap, and before he even knows what’s happened Fitz is screaming, a ripping pain tearing through his chest.

It tosses her body away, like brushing dirt off a favourite sweater.

Rare sun shines through the window and falls across her bare back. Fitz grins through his sleepy morning haze and draws the tips of his fingers across her skin, connecting her freckles into a familiar constellation.

It’s not Perthshire, but it is a little cottage in Scotland that’s theirs if only for the week.

She mumbles in her sleep, about to wake, and instinctively she curls closer to him.

“Morning, Mrs. Fitz,” his voice grumbles with sleep and his accent is a little deeper than it was before they arrived. Their happiness swims around the room like the sunshine.

Chuckling, her eyes blink open against the intrusion of morning light. Her hand reaches out and slips around his bicep.

“Good morning, Mr. Simmons.”

There are too many of them. More than he has bullets in his gun. But it’s okay.

He rushes the others through the door ahead of him then slams it shut.

“We can’t change the future, Jemma.”

He pulls her fingers between his hands, traces around the creases of her palm then worries the bottom joint of her ring finger, where an engagement ring would sit if he’d had the time to make her one.

A tear drips down her cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“We can’t leave her.”

The door is already shut, they’re already taking off, she’s already dead.

“Fitz.” Coulson says with a hand on his shoulder in that voice he always uses when he’s trying to be sensitive.

“No!” he shouts, pulls uselessly at the airlock. Pounding his fists against the unyielding metal.

“Let me out!”

Coulson and May exchange a look.

“Son.”

Fitz collapses to the ground, fingers cold, chest hollow. Somehow he’s forgotten how to sob.

Coulson crouches next to him.

“You have to think of your daughter.”

“It’s simple recon Fitz, don’t worry.” Coulson slaps him on the shoulder as he walks by. It does nothing to quell his fear.

“I don’t like it Coulson.”

The older man stops packing. Across from Fitz, he settles into what was once his Director Face.

“I know. I don’t either. But she has to learn some time.”

Fitz sighs. This isn’t his choice and he knows it. He twists his wedding band around his finger.

“Fine, but I’m not staying behind.”

Coulson nods and hands him a gun.

His skin slips against hers. Their sweat and breath mingle in the darkness. Nothing exists in the world except his body and hers.

She gasps his name, grasps his arm as his lips slide down the curve of her neck into the hollow of her collar bone.

If he was cut now, he’d bleed his love for her.

Daisy bounces to meet them at the door. Coulson tries to pull her away, distract her with words that no one hears.

Fitz stays slumped against the side of the machine. The one that he built, poured his whole mind, he whole being into, the only other thing to carry on his immortality.

She looks at him with eyes wider than the universe. With the eyes that Fitz has been meeting across labs and bedrooms and light years for decades.

Those eyes peer up and around at the broken team.

“Where’s Mummy?”

He flips the ring over and over between his fingers.

It’s nothing fancy, a simple band with a few stones set into the metal so she’ll be able to wear it beneath lab gloves. He studies it for imperfections even though he knows there aren’t any.

Jemma leans against the doorframe of their new makeshift lab.

“I’ve already said yes.”

He startles, then grins.

She slips into the room and slides her fingers in a loose grip around his wrists.

“And I did technically ask you.”

Fitz opens his mouth to protest, but shrugs instead, his smile too wide to argue.

She picks the ring up from his palm. “It’s beautiful.”

With two fingers, he takes it back. “Humor me?”

Her head tilts in confusion for only a second before he’s down on one knee before her.

Third time’s the charm.

His beloved Jemma Simmons slumps against the cold dirty ground, neck cracked to an angle that it should not make, her eyes glassed over and staring blank.

He would have hit the ground with her if it wasn’t for May hauling him up. His feet stumble backwards. His mind screams that he can’t go, he can’t leave her like this.

She slips away anyways.

She’s so tiny.

He’s overwhelmed by it. To keep her cradled in his arm he has to tuck his elbow almost right up against his ribs.

They pace the hall together, just outside their room, trying to allow Jemma the peace to get some much needed rest.

Wide eyes blink up at him. They’re a deep but clear blue, like his, although Jemma has already reminded him a thousand times that all babies are born with blue eyes.

“Good morning.” He strokes his finger over the plump curve of her cheek and her lips part in a little yawn. “Little Daisy.”

Her lips smack and he wonders if she’s getting hungry. Then he wonders how he’s supposed to know when she’s getting hungry. Her little brow furrows and he tries to catalogue the expression for later study.

“Fitz?” Jemma calls from inside the cracked door and he takes two quick steps to return to their room.

“We’re right here.”

There’s a moment, when the harsh artificial light hits her just right and it looks almost like she’s got a halo around her head. His heart defies all logical science and stutters to a stop in his chest.

“Jemma, no!”

He’s too late. He sees the manifestation of a child’s drawing that was showed to him years ago.

The fabric of the universe rips apart.

The creatures overrun him. His back hits the wall. There’s one bullet left.

He presses the gun to his temple. Brings to mind the last memory of her, the one he’s been saving for a rainy day, where she’s smiling, a flush in her cheeks, laughter in her eyes, on one of the few holidays they managed over the years. He can almost feel the softness of her skin beneath his calloused fingers.

And he pulls the trigger.

May hauls on his arm.

He might still be screaming.