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tojisbbygworl · 1 year

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Know Your Place - Hobie Brown x Black!Reader x Cuck!Miguel O’Hara

Unbeknownst to him, the affair between you and Hobie did not go under your husband’s radar

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Smutttttt, Semi-Public sex, Cuckhold, Really from Hobie’s POV, Hobie is 21+, kind of a Threesome, Reader can be any age, but I’m imagining you being slightly older than Hobie at least

author's note: HAIIIII!!! I keep saying 'oh im probably not going to write blah blah blah' and then I think of a story idea like right after that. I have been FEIGNING for a Hobie x reader x Miguel and I didn’t even think that tag existed like come on! People! There's a hole in the market! I'm pretty sure I've only ever read one and it was more Hobie focused and full fledged cheating instead. I can not find it again and I'm gonna lose my mind because of it. Anyway enjoy I hope I made it as raunchy as y'all wanted. (it could always be raunchier)

Also if this kinda plays like an imagine at some point while you’re reading just bare with me. It was an imagine originally but I got too into it.

Part 2

Masterlist

Hobie isn’t sure how things got this way. One day he went from adjusting his pants at HQ and going home to fuck his fist after being in your presence and now he’s watching you ride him while Miguel stands to the side beating his own dick.

It all started a month ago. The conversation began normally, “How’ve ya been, love? Something a miss?” and then you started making all these comments about how much you loved his piercings and how smooth his skin looked with you caressing his hand. He's not one to be startled, but his eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of their sockets.

And then you dropped a bomb: your husband (i.e. his boss) was not doing it for you in the bed anymore.

“I know you can give me what I need, Ho-baby,” you had whispered to him. He was nervous admittedly, but then you gave him a sultry smile and he just couldn’t say no.

The both of you snuck around HQ feeling up on each other in every closet, nook, and cranny you could. In a corner, he loved to sink his teeth into your neck and fingers into your cunt humping your side as he revels in your sweet moans.

If you two managed to get a little more space, like a supply closet, he was holding the bottom of his shirt with his teeth with you bent over in front of him. He would roll his eyes back and groan every time you gave him a squeeze. He loved the sound and look of you gushing onto his abs and stubble. Your ass recoiled off of him so deliciously, he always found himself pulling out and cumming all over it with no shortage of curses and grunts.

It was like a drug, the two of you fucking behind Miguel’s back. Hobie could never get enough of it. He adored knowing that big bad Miguel O’Hara was a bad lay. Even if he wasn’t, even if you were actually a sex goddess in disguise, at the very least Hobie was better and if he had an ego, that would fuel it for miles.

If there was one thing Miguel cared about, it was you. He would never admit it, in fact he tries to hide it, but you made him soft. When you were in the debriefing room for a mission, his usually stern tone was careful. He was less tense around you. Hobie even saw him smile once or twice. Only when it was just the two of you with no one else around, then he would hightail it once Miguel noticed him.

It was cute, but if you were Hobie’s, he wouldn’t hesitate showing you off to everyone. As the boss’s wife, you were a pretty big deal around the society. He always wondered if Miguel knew about all the things people say about you. About all the things they want to do to you and your body. All the things Hobie was currently doing and more.

Okay, so maybe he has a bit of an ego.

It’s all the more prevalent when you start being a little more risky with your suggestions. It went from isolated corners and locked rooms to rubbing him at a far off table in the cafeteria to giving you a creampie in the therapist’s chair during his break.

At first, it freaked him out. As much as he loves a risk taker, he didn’t want to get kicked out. And, he would hate for you to get in trouble. But the way you were acting, it seemed as though you weren’t even a little bit concerned about getting caught. So, he chilled out. Actually, he got way more bold.

He's always loved to piss off Miguel, usually to make you laugh which it always did, but now there was some merit behind it. Miguel would walk by an area that Hobie made you cum in the other day and would snicker loudly getting his attention. Or, Miguel would send the both of you on a mission and Hobie would send you back with three more hickies than you had before, all with a shit-eating grin in his face.

He found that he loved looking Miguel in the eye and talking back to him with your pussy still on his breath. He was never the wiser, just slightly more annoyed by his newfound hubris. It made the anxiety all worth it.

This, though? This was way too much.

“Are you taking the piss?” He asked incredulously when you presented your newest place of coitus.

You had the audacity to look at him confused. “What do you mean? What’s the problem?” You ask, your voice echoing off the large and infinite walls of Miguel’s office.

“Listen, babe,” he starts, “You’re proper fit and all that, but I'm not fucking you in my boss's lair."

You pouted, you little minx, and you began to strip off your suit while keeping eye contact with him. Hobie scoffed and chuckled to himself. Of course, only a woman as crazy as you could stand a stick in the mud like Miguel. He looked back at you backing onto the floating platform. You dropped the suit all at once revealing your completely bare body; a habit you picked up from your husband.

Hobie looks back at the large entrance that was now closed and locked, you and Miguel being the only ones with the access code. He turns back around at you who was now sitting in Miguel's large swivel chair smiling and giggling at him and slowly lifting your legs. He shrugs and walks towards you, the platform turning on and lifting when he steps on it.

He freezes in place and stares at you in terror, immediately relaxing when your laughs get a little bit harder and you reveal a small remote from behind you. He looks up to the ceiling saying a silent prayer and continues his trek.

You bite your lip when he reaches you, closing your eyes and humming when he leans over to kiss you. His hand rubs your waist. You sit up and scoot out of the chair making him look at you in confusion. You turn him around and sit him down resuming the kiss.

Like always, the two of you waist no time getting right to it; every second counts when you're having an affair. You pulled off Hobie's shirt and he tugged his pants down, his dick standing straight up and leaking his thick, clear liquid. He beats it for a second while watching you get on your knees. The sight alone is enough to make him moan, more pre cum escaping his dick and gliding down his shaft and fingers.

You lick the drop from his base to his tip. He bites his lip and admires your pretty face as your mouth encloses around him. "Oh, yeah," he whispers watching you bob your head up and down. You twirled your tongue around his head making him jerk his hips. "Ffff-fuck!"

Hobie steady humps into your throat, his mouth hanging slightly, looking at you like a desperate puppy. He thinks about how glad he is that he always follows you wherever you want to go. He admits that the riskier the place, the better it feels. And it helps that neither of you have even gotten close to getting caught.

He starts to do something he's only ever said in his head. "You love sucking on this dick, don't you?" You seemed a bit taken aback, but ultimately, you liked it. You take him out of your mouth and nod your head sweetly going right back in soon after. Hobie takes the back of your neck and pulls you off of him. "Stick out your tongue."

He proceeds to slap his dick onto the pink muscle groaning and biting his lips with each plop. "You like getting slutted out like this? My dick slapping your tongue?" You nod again letting out an "ah-huh" from your open mouth. Hobie grins wildly. "My dick, right? Not his?"

That made you excited. "Yes, baby," is all you can get out before he stuffs himself back into your mouth.

The sounds leaving him are completely incomprehensible. His breathing is staggered, heavy and loud, but not nearly as loud as your mouth as you coat his dick in saliva. He has to put his hand on your shoulder to stop you before he feels like cumming.

He let's out a large and winded breath. You smile up at him, the entire bottom part of your face matching his dick and lap, wet and shiny. He can't wait to put it inside you. He just knows it'll slide right in.

And he was right. In a commanding tone, he grabs his base and tells you to sit on it. Without breaking your smile, you do. He moans louder than you and immediately attaches his hands to your hips. He filled you up so nicely, you could feel him hitting your abdomen. Every time he was full sheathed inside of you, you whined from the bumping sensation.

Hobie, on the other hand, did not stop moaning. He slowly leaned his head backwards to rest on the chair and closed his eyes. He couldn't speak, his mind racked with excited thoughts about what the two of you were doing.

Now he knows, he does have a big ego. Not only does he have a beautiful woman rolling her hips on his dick, desperate to make him cum for her, it's his boss's wife. His boss who he, on the lowest of keys, can't stand and vice versa. And she's riding him in his own office. In his chair.

He hears you begin to pant harder. Then he looks up into your eyes. He holds the contact with you while guiding you through your orgasm. "You want to cum? Yeah? You want to cum on my dick, you fucking slut? What about your husband, huh? How would he feel knowing your getting off on me instead?"

You sighed deeply and slowed down. Hobie could feel you clenching and spilling around him. "That turn you on, baby? Knowing he can't make you feel like this?" You do something he doesn't expect, you smile and giggle. While it's cute, it's a little off-putting. Soon after you look at him and nod again, picking up speed once more.

He sighs and closes his eyes again. His stomach coils and he can feel his release coming soon. "Mmm, mmm, mmm..." He moans.

His bottom lip finds itself under his teeth once more and the only thing he regrets about this moment is how he didn't get a chance to pound you on Miguel's devices. You put a hand on his chest "Baby, look at me~," you beg.

How could he deny you? He opens his eyes only slightly, then they shoot wide at the sight in front of him.

He clammers to get up and opens his mouth to warn you, only to look down and see a hand wrapped around one of your tits. The man's face sits right next to yours with his chin in your neck. He's smirking right at Hobie, red eyes glowing. "She asked you to look at her," says Miguel. "Do it."

"Please~?" You plead. Hobie's eyes shift to you and take everything in. You were still riding him, faster now, with one hand on his own chest and Miguel playing with one of your nipples. He watches his boss lean his head down to kiss your soft neck and leave love bites making you purr like he's never heard before. Hobie looks at your free tit and holds it. His thumb rubs your nipple and he gazes up in adoration at your cries. The ghost of a smile that was about to show up on his face disappears when he makes eye contact with Miguel.

He can not read his face for the life of him. He looks perfectly content; in fact, he was jerking himself off, his thick dick laying over and leaking onto yours and Hobie’s thighs. He humped into his hand not caring that he was hitting his leg too.

The grunts Miguel made were only heard by you. They turned you on even more, making your second orgasm approach quickly. With the way he played with your breasts, all you wanted was for someone to put their mouth on it. "Hobie," you pant. Said man brings his gaze back over to you. "Will you suck on it? Pretty please?"

'This woman is trying to kill me,' he decides. He half expects Miguel to shut down whatever the hell this was, but he doesn't. Instead, he smiles. Genuinely.

"Trying to make me angry, hermosa?" He mutters in your ear. Then you both do something that made Hobie's stomach tingle and twist in lust. Miguel chuckles against your ear with you following suit. You lean your head back and turn it capturing your lips in his. The two of you have a heated make out session on Hobie's dick. Miguel lets go of his dick and grabs your thigh instead. He continues to thrust into the air, slowly now.

You're both moaning into each other's mouths, tongues flying everywhere. It's so erotic, Hobie sits up a bit more and leans his head into your chest encasing your nipple in his wet, hot mouth. It makes you gasp, moving your head from Miguel's leaving him hanging in the air. He watches as you cum for the second time on Hobie. Because of Hobie. With Hobie. He glares at the two of you, his dick harder than ever.

The younger man refuses to lift his head from your chest even as he spills into your pussy. He whines and groans, "Yes, baby..." "That feels so good..." "Keep milking my dick..." He wraps both of his arms around your waist pulling you closer into him. You both come down from your highs panting and staring at each other. You smile at him and lean down to give him a kiss. Hobie accepts it quickly, he rubs your ass and grips it slightly, trying to get you in the mood to kiss him the way you just kissed Miguel. He starts to over stimulate himself by humping into you some more. It works, you start to whimper again and you stick your tongue into his mouth. His pride overwhelms him causing him to say:

"I'll fuck a fucking baby into you..."

Miguel refuses to sit there with his dick in his hands and watch his employee talk about impregnating his wife. Hobie's had his fun, it's time for him to go. Miguel takes his previous spot behind you and leans into your ear, his eyes not leaving Hobie's. "Tell him he has to go."

Hobie blinks at what was just said and looks at you. You're looking as at his lap sheepishly, but there's a mischievous glint in your eye and just the smallest gleam on your face. You look up at him. "You have to go now, Ho-baby."

Miguel growls and grips the back of your neck. “Don’t fucking call him that.” He leans you backwards. "Open your fucking mouth." When you do, he gathers up as much saliva as he can and spits it onto your tongue. "Now kiss him goodbye."

You do as your husband wishes and hold Hobie's chin. Winking at him, you lean down and lick his lips. At first, he doesn't know how to feel, but his heart starts racing and he thinks it won't hurt. After all, Miguel's technically been kissing his dick for a month now, he wouldn't mind swallowing his spit. You're such a good girl, you saved so much of it in your mouth.

You and Hobie proceed to leave each other's faces drenched. You hadn't lifted yourself off of him just yet which he was grateful for. Eventually, the both of you hovered your lips over each other, too stimulated to focus on kissing from the feeling of him growing inside of you. Miguel smirks evilly as he connects with your ear again. "It's time for Hobie to go, mi amor."

He knew if felt good, but he would make you feel even better. And you knew it to. So you slowly lifted yourself off of Hobie. Miguel pulls him up onto his feet and pushes you into the seat, back first. Hobie tries to keep his balance, and when he finds it he lifts his pants back up. He turns back to the two of you who were paying him absolutely no mind. You were staring up at Miguel, your legs spread and in almost in a mating press. Miguel was furiously beating his dick over you, using his thumb to spread your pussy lips and watch Hobie's cum drip out of it. Hobie hears him groan, but he quickly jumps back when Miguel twists his head around and glares at him furiously. "Why are you still here?" He spits. He plants the head of his dick directly onto your pearly spunk covered hole. "You want to watch me show you up? You want to watch me make my wife cum on my dick?" He ends the sentence with a smile. Hobie looks away from him to your fucked out face. Your hands were rubbing Miguel's torso with your fingers raking it, silently pleading for him to fuck you. Hobie wished he could tell him, ‘fine, you can fuck my baby into her instead,’ but he decides against it. His good girl still needed to be fucked and his attitude would not help with that.

As much as Miguel wants to continue taunting Hobie, he was ready to give you some real dick. "Damn, baby," he tells you, rubbing his dick between your folds, staining your region and covering himself with white. "You're such a fucking whore for me. He just came in you and now you want more?"

You shake your head. "No, daddy," You whimper. "I want you."

Miguel smiled. "I know you do."

By the time he's started fucking into you, Hobie had long since swung away and took a portal back to his home ready to hump his sheets and imagine he was fucking you again. Maybe this time he'll imagine that Miguel's in the corner.

Miguel thought about what went down yesterday as he waited for Hobie and his team to return from an assignment. You had told him hat the two of you were meeting up again when he got back. Today, you would go to his universe.

He doesn't completely understand how you all got here. He has always known that you had a little thing for Hobie, but he never imagined that it would get this far.

For the longest time, Miguel was looking at you, looking at Hobie, looking at you. He wasn’t stupid; he knew you were a bombshell; perfect brown skin, tasty full lips, a cute round nose and a body that puts anyone to shame. Why wouldn’t Hobie get weak at the sight of you? Hell, you’re married to Miguel and he still gets butterflies when you look at him.

He could pretend that it pissed him off that you wanted Hobie too, but when he thought he should have been angry, he felt blood rushing to his member instead. Imagining you on your hands and knees while someone who wasn’t him drilled into you from behind, hearing you moan someone else’s name, lubing his own dick with someone else’s cum and fucking you with it…it made him excited.

Yeah, it was a bit annoying how excited you were when he told you he was okay with you starting a sexual relationship with Hobie, (more like he wanted you to), but as long as you were happy, he was happy. And then he got really happy. When you told him about the small meet-ups you and Hobie had, he couldn't believe himself when he told you to fuck in the therapy sector. He would keep Peter-78988 occupied while you two did your thing in his office. His morals kept him from recording, however, and he desperately wanted to see it happen.

He guesses you knew that, you told him you would be fucking in a new place that Miguel would really really like. He was prepared to wait for you to tell him when it was all said and done, you sitting on your knees and jerking him off as you did it like always, but imagine his surprise when he entered his own office and saw his platform activated and Lyla turned off.

Yesterday was nice, and he hoped that you all could do it again one day, but that day may not be soon.

He didn't appreciate the way Hobie sauntered into HQ that morning, clearly thinking that his shit doesn't stink. It was already annoying that he looks like that regardless, but now he knows he's the shit and that makes him worse. No, he's not actually. He just thinks he is. And Miguel needs to let him know that.

"You," he points at the man after they turned in their reports. He raises his pierced brow. "Stay." Gwen and Margo make a childish ooo~ sound waving bye just before the entrance closes up again.

Hobie stands in front of him, taking his a stare head on. Miguel has his hands on his hips, like he always does, looking like a dad about to scold his son. He fights back a scoff, but he’s annoyed. He had more important things to attend to; he really wants to see if he can make you call him daddy, too.

Miguel gives an ingenuine grin. Hobie's bored expression doesn't change. "Yesterday was something, huh?"

Even though it was clear that this was what Miguel wanted to talk about, it still surprised him that he would. Hobie doesn't let it catch him off guard, though. "Yeah, did you hear her begging me to suck her tit? That was something."

Miguel's "smile" grows wider. "You know what you didn't hear? That you can't make her feel like I do."

Hobie gives him a cocky beam, something that wasn't really becoming of him, but it's been building up for a month now. "You mean like how you can't make her cum? Why she came to me in the first place?"

Miguel gives him a look of realization. "Ohhh." he says. Then, he laughs. He crosses his hands over his chest and shakes his head. Hobie's smile widens. He knows he’s in for it now.

Miguel sighs and calms down. He waves a finger at him. "You know, you can be really funny when you want to."

"I usually get like that when I'm dying of boredom."

"Oh, is my presence not enjoyable?"

"Not nearly as much as your wife's." Hobie lifts his wrist and looks at a pretend watch. "Who I have to be meeting soon, so if you don't mind..."

He turns to walk away but is stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. He looks back at Miguel and his unsettling grin. The smile that was on Hobie's face has been wiped off. He looks at him unimpressed, despite being nervous inside.

"I don't want to keep her waiting either," he starts. He turns Hobie around fully and looks down at him. "So let me make one thing clear, Hobart." He leans over just enough for Hobie to feel his breath on his face.

"You're only fucking my wife because I allow it. I'm the reason she's keeping your dick wet. Remember that. You will never be enough for her. Ever." With that, he slaps his shoulder encouragingly and pushes him out, ready to get back to work.

Hobie stands outside the room and contemplates what the fuck just occurred. He looks to the floor as his mind runs with memories of every time the two of you fucked. All the "sneaking", all the lying, it was never what it was...He knew about it the whole time.

Hobie could probably find it in him to care, but your pretty face popped up on his watch with you asking where he was and that you wanted him to show you his place.

Yeah, he'll be fine with this.

ending a/n: Tell me what you thinkkkkkkk

Okayyyyyy lmk if u wanna be tagged in part 2 OR WHATEVER

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x you #black reader #spider punk smut #spider punk x black!reader #hobie brown x black!reader #spider punk x reader smut #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x black reader #Miguel o hara x black reader #Hobie x reader x Miguel #Hobie brown x reader x Miguel o hara

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skyfallslayer · 2 months

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Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Five - Part 2

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Part One || Series Masterlist

🎲Word Count: 22,544 (In Total)

🎲Date: 7/31/24

🎲Warnings: Heavy Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death"; Funerals; Crying; Talks of Corpses; Being Drugged; Brief Alcohol Consumption; Unwanted Touching; Suggestive Dialogue; Suicidal Thoughts; Minor Blood; A Certain "Curse" Comes Into Play Early; The Byers Family's Mental Strain; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Gangster & A Overprotective Brother; The Harringtons' A+ Parenting; Steve's Emotional Damage & Signing Up To Be A Babysitter; Stephanie & Will Deserved All The Love, man. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Heads up, Readers! This document is split between two parts. For some reason Tumblr said I reach my 1,000 space limit, or something like that and wouldn't let me post it because it's so long. PLEASE read part one first or this won't make any sense :) Enjoy!

-Continuing...-

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Steph stares at her deadbeat Dad, scared, shocked, confused. Out of all the people her mind could conjure up for her to see today, it just had to be him, it just had to be the guy that ruined her and her family’s lives. As much as she wanted to look away, her gut was telling her not to (Just like the old days, huh?).

She swallows, trying not to get teary eyed in front of him. “This isn’t real. You’re not here.” She says, making him laugh, that same laugh that gave her chills.

“Oh, but I am.”

“No you’re not. You’re a million fucking miles away.”

“So?” He shrugs, still smirking. “By all means, you still need me.”

Steph clenches her jaw and sends him the dirtiest look. “I don’t fucking need you. Neither does Dustin or my mother. I’m leaving.” But when she tried she couldn’t, her whole body was stuck to the chair, frozen.

That seemed to fuel his ego a bit. “See? You still need me. Stay. Let’s talk. We haven’t done that in so long, munchkins.” He leans over to touch her forearm, sending another shiver down her body. “Talk.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie! What’s wrong with you?” Will starts shaking her shoulders, not really sure what else he could do. “Stephanie! Stephanie! Stephanie!!!”

He doesn’t know what’s happening! She seems like she’s in a trance, but what kind of trance? How did she get into it? Who put her into it? And more importantly, how does he get her the hell out of it?

“Stephanie! Come on! What happened to you? How do I…” He grabs the sides of his head. “What do I do? What should I do? What can I do? I…” He gasps, eyes widening. “Music…”

His coco orbs landed on what he had brought back, and he wasted no time to take his coat off and to dump out his brother’s cassettes everywhere. He starts shuffling through the pile, trying to find something he knew she liked. She liked metal, but Jonathan wasn’t a fan of that, so that rules out bands like Metallica or Dio, but she was a big fan of rock too.

Come on, Jonathan. You have to have something. Seriously, there has to be something he can play! Eagles, Heart, The Police…

His heart skips a beat. Got it!

He recalls another band that was in her top five, one of them being Journey, And Luckily, his brother had the ‘Frontiers’ Album that so happens to have a song that was always on her mind. He pulled the cassette from the case and placed it inside the walkman (thank heavens her favorite song was the first one on set). Will replaced her hat for the headphones, and as soon as they were secured…

He presses the play button and prays.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan had everything he needed for their little hunting mission. His dad had left behind a few of his guns when the marriage ended, and his mom always warned him and Will that those would be used in emergency situations only. And in Jonathan’s defense, he should count this as an emergency. This… faceless beast was somehow responsible for the disappearance of his little brother, Stephanie, and Barb – and he’s not even sure if there’s more or not, but he’s hoping it’s stopped at them – and he needs to know why and where this thing even came from, and where it took them. He’s just hoping he can get those answers before finally slaying the beast.

Now, he was just confirming with Nancy over the phone. “I was thinking we can meet in the area about an hour before sundown? Maybe get some practice in shooting? Unless you’ve… shot before?”

[ ‘No, no. I have not. Have you met my parents?’ ]

That got him to chuckle a little. “So, no? What are you taking as a weapon then?”

[ ‘I mean, I’ve got my old bat when I’ve played softball. I could trying seeing if I could sneak out a kitchen knife but…’ ]

“That might be a little hard, especially since your mom’s in the kitchen all the time.”

[ ‘Speaking of, are you sure your mom can’t hear us?’ ]

“Positive.” Jonathan said, sparing a glance over his shoulder to the sleeping figure on the couch. “She’s sound asleep. I’ll have enough time to make an excuse if she does wake beforehand.”

[ ‘If you say so. I’m just a little nervous. I’m a little afraid to see that thing for real this time.’ ]

“Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll try to get answers, and if not…” He takes a deep breath. “We kill the faceless thing. End of story. At least… I won’t have to worry about it terrorizing my mom anymore, or anyone for that matter.”

I have to kill this thing. I have to make it up to my Mom somehow. He didn’t realize how quiet he went, and wasn’t sure how long she was calling out his name for. “Uh, sorry. W-What did you say?”

[ ‘Hour before sundown, right?’ ]

“Yep. I’ll meet you there.”

[ ‘Kay. I’ll see you there.’ ]

Jonathan hangs up the phone, sighing and heading back to his room to make sure he has everything – completely unaware that a certain someone was actually awake.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Later that day, both Powell and Callahan finally decided to check on their boss who had failed to come into the station this morning. They pulled their car in next to his, not really seeing much out of the ordinary so they went for the front door.

“Hey, Chief!” Callahan called out, before knocking. “Hello? Whoa!-”The door was practically pulled from him, and out came their Boss who looked a lot worse for wear.

“Jesus, Chief. You all right?” Powell asked, concerned.

“What are you doing here?” Hopper asked, pistol by his side with an itchy finger.

“We tried calling, but–”

“Yeah, the phone’s dead.” He snaps, missing the way his two pupils backed up a bit at the sight of his weapon and tone.

Callahan tries to steer his trigger finger away with a conversation. “Hey, so Bev Mooney came in this morning all upset. Said that Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday… and they didn’t come back home.”

“She thought they were on another binger, but she’s not so sure now.” Powell adds.

“I think this whole Will Byers, Stephanie Henderson thing has everybody on edge.”

Hopper’s heart sank a bit. “Where was this?”

“It was at the station.”

“No, no. Where did Henry and Dale go hunting?”

“Oh. Uh, out near Kerley.”

Hopper felt himself go paler. “Mirkwood.”

“What?”

“O-Okay. You go back to the station. I’ll take care of this, all right?” He explains, and tries to go back inside.

“Are you sure?” Callahan asked, worriedly.

Hopper nods and opens his door back up. “Yeah, leave it.”

“Oh, hey. Uh, they found Barbara’s car.”

“What?”

“Barbara Holland’s car.” Powell specifies. “Seems she ran away after all. Staties found it late last night at a bus station.”

“Funny, right?” Callahan jokes. “They keep doing our job for us.”

No, definitely not funny. Hopper’s jaw clenches and he nods. “Yeah. It’s funny.” He says, heading back inside and mentally cursing.

“Is he off his meds again?” He asked in a low whisper.

Powell shrugs. “He’s been spending too much time with Joyce Byers. That’s what I think.”

“Maybe he should stick with the Henderson woman. I heard they were friends through high school.”

“Yeah…” He scoffs. “Like she’s any better.”

Callahan gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

“Let me just say she was… quite the wild card back then.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When the doorbell rang at the Wheeler house, the family honesty wasn’t sure who to expect.

Except the three boys who had bolted out of the basement knew.

They had loosened their funeral clothes a bit since they arrived here, and were trying to act like everything was A-Okay! And totally not suspicious when the rest of the family sees who their mysterious guest is.

“We got it!” Dustin shouts, surprising and stopping Karen in the hallway.

Karen halts her son, confused. “What? Did you guys order pizza or something?”

“No! Uh, we, um…” Mike was fumbling his words a bit, fueling his mother’s suspicions more.

“We asked someone to come over. From the funeral. Uh… A teenager from high school.” Lucas explains.

“Yeah. W-We got to talking to him, and we really think he could help us with this history project that is due in a few weeks.”

“He’s actually a friend of Nancy.”

“Oh, really?” Karen asked, and spoke of the devil.

“A friend of mine?” Nancy said, halfway down the stairs, clothes changed into something more cozy and warm.

“Who’s the friend?”

And that’s when Dustin had opened the door, pretending to be overjoyed. “Steve!”

“Steve?” Nancy said, coming completely down the stairs now. “W-What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well, I had the chance to talk to them early, and sounded like your brother and his friends needed help with a school project.” Steve replies, hoping he sounded convincing. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, I’m just… a bit surprised, I guess.”

Steve smiles, and holds his hand out for her mother. “Hello, Mrs. Wheeler. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“Steve Harrington?” Karen said, shaking it. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Her eyes trail to Nancy who was looking away with a nervous laugh.

And I just made it awkward. He brushes it off quickly. “Uh, I won’t be long, Mrs. Wheeler, I’ll just go over a couple things with the boys.”

“Oh, take your time. It’s nice that they actually asked for help once.”

“Thank you. Alright, kids–” He smacks his hands together. “Let’s go.” He makes a mental note to talk to his girlfriend later, but as right now he doesn’t want her to get involved with whatever this was. He follows the kids to the basement, but a few steps down, Mike stops him.

Mike makes sure his family wasn’t around to hear this, and starts talking in a low tone. “Before we go down, there is something we have to tell you.”

“Which is?” Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

“To make a long story short, the night after Will and Stephanie disappeared we decided to go looking in the area her car crashed, and we found someone.”

That’s not concerning at all, Wheeler. What was this kid getting at? It was making him a bit nervous. “Someone?”

“Yeah. She’s–” Mike sighs, and gives him a stern look. “You have to swear you won’t tell my parents, or Nancy, or… anyone for that matter. Do you understand?”

“I… understand.” He holds his hand up. “I swear.”

“Good.” The kid nods, satisfied. “Come on.”

Steve follows him down, and that’s when he notices the girl on the couch. A young girl, probably not much older than twelve was sitting there in a Mötley Crüe band shirt, jeans and a pair converse on the floor; Along with a plaid jacket too. That outfit looked… quite familiar.

“Is that…” He begins, gesturing to the redhead who was trying to figure him out too.

“This is Eleven, or we call El for short. She’s…” Mike trails off, thinking. “We don’t know where she’s from, all we know is that it’s from a bad place. And she has powers.”

Now that got his attention. “I’m sorry, powers?”

“Yeah. Like… Magneto.”

“Magneto?”

“Yeah. Like from the X-Men.”

“Uh…”

“Oh, my god.” Dustin says, throwing his head back to his obliviousness. “How were you and my sister friends?”

“Hey, we had other things in common.” Steve pushes back, hands on his hip like a stern mother.

“Oh, yeah?” Dustin squares up. “Like what?”

“You’re really going to quiz me right now?”

“Yes! I am!”

“Dustin, man, come on. We don’t have time for–” Lucas said, sitting up straighter from his spot on a chair. But of course, his friend wouldn’t listen (and they all accuse him of being the stubborn one).

“What is her favorite color?” Dustin starts, getting an eye roll and a sigh from his ‘opponent’.

“Seafoam green.” Steve replies, going along with it.

“Favorite band?”

“It’s a tie between Journey and Metallica.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mint chocolate chip, however–”

“Ah, ha!” The youngest Henderson jerks his thumb at him, like he caught him in a lie. “Wrong! That’s not her–”

“But, but, but!” Steve cuts right back in, taking control. “I wasn’t finished. She says that’s her favorite, because she’s too embarrassed to tell everyone that her actual favorite is bubblegum, which no one, and I mean no I know besides her, likes that flavor. Correct?”

Dustin makes a face like he’s been kicked. “Damn it…” He mumbles, pacing off to find something to do.

“Ice cream?” El said, and it took Steve a second to realize she phrased it as a question.

“You never had ice cream?” He asked, and she shook her head. “Where the hell was she living before?” Then he stops himself. “D-Doesn’t matter! We’ll discuss that part later, maybe over some ice cream, but for right now, why am I here?”

It took a bit to get him up to speed about the past few days, leaving him with a spinning head, and asking more questions that needed to be answered.

“Holy shit…” He mutters, rubbing his temple. “Holy shit. So… you guys are all convinced that Stephanie and Will are stuck in another dimension? All because El took you guys to his house and said they were there but couldn’t see them?”

“Correct.” Lucas said, with a nod.

“And it pretty confirmed it when you heard Will over the radio explaining that?”

“Correct.”

“That’s… insane, but… it makes sense.”

“So you’re saying you believe us?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised.

“Look, like I said earlier, when the evidence was laid out about what happened to them, It didn’t really sit right with me, you know? And–” Steve fiddles with his hands again. “And Stephanie, I mean she knew the Quarry pretty well, so I thought it would have been odd that she would have fallen in like that, even if she was being chased. And Will… he sounds like he’s a smart kid too.”

“He is.” Lucas said, a bit of sadness there.

“He’s really smart.” Mike adds.

“That’s my point.” Steve agrees. “So, if what you’re suggesting is true, and they really did end up in some dimension, whoever found or knows, or even is responsible for that to happen to them, they must have planted the fake bodies to take the heat off the case. I mean, let’s be real here. Kids get kidnapped to another dimension? Who’s going to believe that?”

“So someone had to open that gate to the Upside Down, realize what happened and wanted to cover their asses.” Mike turns towards Eleven who seemed like she wasn’t fully into their conversation. “Do you know where the gate is?”

She shakes her head. “No…”

“Then how do you know about the Upside Down?” Lucas asked, as she looked away in shame.

“Hey, uh…” Steve leans in to whisper. “Not to budge into this spat, but uh, did I break Henderson?”

Now all eyes were on him, and he was pacing around in a small circle with something in his hand; He looked like he was in deep thought too.

“Dustin, what are you doing? Dustin?” Mike tries, and gets irritated. “Dustin!!”

That seemed to do the trick because he stopped. “I... I need to see your compasses.”

“What?”

“Your compasses. All of your compasses, right now!”

Of course Lucas and Mike decided to humor him a bit and start searching for what they had, while Steve locked eyes with El who looked just as confused as he was. She seemed painfully shy, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying to get on her goodside.

“Hey–” He whispers. “I think he’s the nutty one.” And he makes a goofy expression that got her to smile. Good enough for me.

And he stands up to join the boys around the table who had all the compasses laying out.

“What’s exciting about this?” Mike asked, unamused.

“Well, they’re all facing north, right?” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, that’s not true north.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked, slightly intrigued.

“I mean exactly what I just said. That’s not true north.” He looks between them like they’re crazy. “Are you both seriously this dense?” His friends shrug and he sighs. “Steve?” And all hopes go out too when he shrugged. “Wow. You’re useless.”

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve said, trying not to strangle him yet.

“So, the sun rises in the east, and it sets in the west. Right?” Dustin points towards the left wall, east. “Which means that’s true north.”

“So what you’re saying is the compasses are broken.” Mike said, clarifying.

He sighs again. “Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack in this?”

“No.”

“No, you don’t. Because it doesn’t need one. The needle’s naturally drawn to the Earth’s magnetic North Pole.”

“So what’s wrong with them?” Lucas questions.

“Well, that’s what I couldn’t figure out, but then I remembered.” He perks up with a grin. “You can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there’s the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power. And then I remembered what Mr. Clarke said. The gate would have so much power–”

“It could disrupt the electromagnetic field.” Mike said, smiling.

“Exactly.”

“Meaning, if we follow the compasses’ north…”

��They should lead us to the gate.”

And the boys begin praising Dustin for figuring that out–

Why El was looking like she heard the worst news ever.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jonathan fixes his jacket and slings a bag over his shoulder as he comes out of his room when he notices what time it was (He could even see that the sun was starting to change color). But as soon as he reaches where the hallway meets the kitchen, he sees his mother sitting at the table reading over some paperwork.

His heart skips a beat a bit, and as he calmly tells himself to stick to the script. “Y-You’re up.” he says, getting her attention. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up tonight.”

“Yeah, I guess that service really took a lot out of me.” Joyce replies, setting what she was reading down to look at him. “Heading out?”

“Y-Yeah, um… a classmate who was at the wake wanted to cheer me up. I-I was going to turn it down, but I thought it could take my mind off a few things.”

“Oh, well that’s good.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m going to head out.” He says, turning to leave.

“Okay.” She said, crossing her arms. “Does your outing include guns?” That got him to stop. “I noticed you raided your father’s old gun safe.”

Jonathan bites his lip for a second, before turning around with a dry laugh. “It wasn’t like he was going to use them any time soon.”

She raised an eyebrow, stern. “I thought you didn’t like shooting?”

“I thought it would be nice to pick it back up. You know, just in case that thing comes back.”

“Well, that’s actually rather thoughtful of you, Jonathan.”

“Uh, thanks, mom.” He sends her a quick smile and starts leaving again. “I’ll be back.”

“Alrighty.” She says, standing up silently. “Is that before or after you kill the faceless thing?” This time her son couldn’t hide his shock when he turned around, and she couldn’t really hide her irritation either. “You really need to learn whether someone is fake sleeping or not.”

He swallows. “Mom–”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Mom, it’s not–”

“Jonathan, you will tell me who you’re going out with right now. I am not playing any games.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Despite their agreements to go out to look, Dustin was still salty enough to try to get Steve to leave. His first attempt was to try to go get him to see Nancy, but that backfired when she apparently had left for something. The second was when he pointed out to Steve that he still had his suit on, and tried to get him to go home and change – But the teenager proudly declined, and saw right through his crap, and said he can just take his jacket and tie off and he’ll be fine. His third attempt was a bit later on in their adventure, when the temperature started to drop and so did the sun in the sky, he tried again with the clothes, pointing out that dress shoes weren’t exactly made for hiking – this attempt was just flat out ignored.

“Dude, just let it go.” Lucas said, since he was partnered up with him (Now, he’s lucky that they lived close enough to actually change out of their funeral clothing. He can’t imagine how Steve’s doing it). “He’s going to be helpful whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, sure.” Dustin said, sarcastically. “What? Because he’s carrying a bat around? Who carries a bat in their trunk?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Dude, drop it. It’s actually kind of relieving that someone else brought a weapon too.” He waves around his slingshot furiously to make a point.

“Whatever…”

He sighs, and takes a glance at his compass. “How much further?”

“I don’t know.” Dustin shrugs. “These only tell direction, not distance. You really need to learn more about compasses.”

“I’m just saying. How do we know when we get to the gate?”

“Uh, I think a portal to another dimension is gonna be pretty obvious.”

Lucas sighs again, this time glancing back at the others. Mike and Eleven were paired together, while Steve was a few steps behind them keeping guard out. But his focus was more on the girl that has been suspiciously wiping her nose every few minutes.

“Do you think she’s acting weird?” He finally asked in a lower voice.

“You’re asking if the weirdo is acting weird?” Dustin said, confused.

“I mean, weirder than normal?”

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

Meanwhile, Eleven was remembering a few scary things from her past, and the guilt and fear was starting to eat away at her. With a shaky hand, she tugs on the boy’s sleeve. “Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Turn back.”

Mike blinks, puzzled. “What? Why?”

“I’m tired.”

He sighs. “Look, I’m sure we’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer, okay?” He says, making her stop.

She worriedly looks at the way they came from, practically aching to start running away from all this. She knows once they find out the truth, they’re going to be mad.

“Hey.” Steve calls out softly, standing right in front of her. “You okay?”

Her eyes scan his face, seeing how genuinely worried he was for her, despite they met only hours ago (Why weren’t the people she grew up with this kind to her?). She nods subtly. “F-Fine.”

“Fine?” He asks, getting another nod. “Okay.” He wasn’t fully convinced, but he wasn’t going to push. “But your nose is bleeding.”

She perks up at the news, and quickly wipes it away. She just gives him a quick smile before jogging to catch up with the others, Steve’s concern only growing a bit stronger.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie felt like she couldn’t breath. She suddenly felt like she was a kid again, practically having to be on her toes whenever he was around. Right now, her father seemed pretty ticked off about something, something that she was going to have to continue to push back on and try to get away.

“You ratted me out.” He hissed, arms crossed in disappointment. “You and that little rich friend of yours.”

She tightens her jaw again, her hands managing to make a fist as she glares. “I never ratted you out.”

“Oh…” He whispers, realization creeping across his features for a few seconds. “So it was him, huh?”

Fucking prick. She bares her teeth at him, angry herself. “Steve did what any friend would have in a situation like that.”

His eye twitched. “By selling me out!!”

“You got child endangerment and illegal gambling. You’re lucky that’s all you got.” She says, raising her tone. “He decided to be a good person and respect my wishes, respect my dignity, and save me from some humiliation from every fucking school kid – to save my mom the guilt, and Dustin some confusion.” Steph scoffs. “Selling you out? You got fucking lucky, Pal.”

“Pal? I ain’t your pal! I’m your fucking father!” He points at himself furiously. “I raised you!”

“Mom raised me! Not you!” Now she felt the tears start to sting, but not from sadness, no, these were angry tears. He opens his mouth to speak, and she cuts him off. “And don’t you dare say you raised Dustin! You were never there for him. Never there for any school events, or the time he tried to play hockey. For fuck’s sake, you were even there when he was born!!”

“I WAS BUSY!!”

“Busy fucking GAMBLING! You were always doing that!” She scoffs again. “You were never our father, you were never his father. When mom wasn’t there it was me. It was always me, it was never you.”

“I was always there for you.”

“Oh, please…”

“We hung out, you can’t deny that. We always did something every week.”

“Oh, yeah, take your child to a black jack table and let them watch as you bet money we don’t have. Yeah…” She rolls her eyes. “That was a wonderful father-daughter bonding moment.”

“Stephanie–”

“Don’t say my name.”

“Stephanie.” His face softens. “Munchkins, you have to understand, what I did, it was necessary. I was on my way of making the big bucks, and moving us to the hills with beautiful and big houses your mother and I always dreamed of.”

“That was a lie you just love feeding to mom.”

“Stephanie–”

“Stop.” She snaps, calming herself a little. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know if I hit my head a little hard, or that weird monster that keeps following me is doing this but…” She shakes her head. “You’re not real. You’re in prison. And if this is just some sick joke to get me to forgive you, it ain’t going to work. I hate you, and I will always hate you. Period. Now–” She manages to push herself off the bar stool to stand. “I’m leaving.”

Stephanie doesn’t want to bid him another thought or word as she turns and starts heading for the exit as her father starts yapping away.

“You hate me, I get it.” He sighs. “I hate myself as well. But… I know you hate yourself too.”

That got her to stop. It got a nerve that she was trying to hide.

“Deep down, you hate yourself. A lot apparently.”

“I don’t hate myself.” She replies, turning around.

“Oh, yes, you do.” He said, standing up too, a gleeful look on his face. “You see, you’ve hated yourself for quite a while, and it didn’t start after the whole… broken friendship thing, no… it’s been happening for a while.”

“You’re…” She swallows, shaking slightly (She was unaware of the room growing darker and more suffocating). “You’re crazy.”

“This whole self hatred thing has been going on and off throughout your life. There were so many key moments that made you think that way.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re fucking crazy–”

“There were so many times that made you stop and think, ‘Hey. Why don’t Steve’s parents like me? What’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough?’ Hmm…” He moves closer, the abyss growing around them both more. “Ring any bells? Remember when you thought that and tried to change?”

“That’s…” She touches the side of her head. “That’s ridiculous. I… I just thought maybe I should change a little, wh-what would it h-hurt? Right…? I…”

“See? It’s in there? It’ll always be there.” He taps his own chest twice. “There will always be that hatred in your heart that you can’t get rid of.”

“I… I c-can get rid of it.”

“You can bury it, but you can’t get rid of it. It’s your genes, it’s engraved in your bones, sewn into your heart.” He smiles. “Think about it, even after your friend ended everything, sure you were mad at him, but you were more mad at yourself than anything.”

Her eyes widened, shaking. “S-Stop…”

“You were so mad that you thought about…” The abyss grows more and pulls them closer together. “Ending it all for everyones’ sake.”

She felt like something was grabbing a hold of her now, pushing on her lungs and in her throat, suffocating her. She felt her eyes sting and burn, and her father’s started to change into something or some else.

“And you…” He laughs, the pain in her body intensifying. “Probably should.”

He starts extending his arm out for her, bruised fingers coming over to ghost her face and–

It was like someone had opened the shades and let the sunlight in. Everything felt warmer and lighter, the pressure was suddenly taken off her body. She gasps with relief, her father’s hand pulling back as she hears a familiar song playing in the distance.

[ ♪ Here we stand

Worlds apart, heart broken in two. Two. Two.

Sleepless nights

Losing ground, I'm reaching for you. You. You ♪ ]

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

Her eyes widened, turning around to see some kind of opening in the distance. “Will?” She croaks, and she swears she can see him too.

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! PLEASE! ||

Wake up? I’m asleep? She couldn’t believe it. She really was stuck in her head.

|| STEPHANIE!! ||

“I–” She swallows and takes a step. “I’m coming.”

Her father frowns. “You can’t leave.” He says, snatching her by the arm. She shutters at the sudden voice change, scared again. “We haven’t finished talking.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You told me you weren’t going to do anything stupid! You promised me, Jonathan!” Joyce yells, as her son shakes her head.

“W-We’re not going through this again!” He said, almost laughing.

“Not again? What do you mean?!”

“Mom, seriously!” He points at himself. “Let me do this! Let me find this thing!”

“You want me to allow you to go find some wild, dangerous beast that could possibly take you away or have you killed?” Joyce scoffs. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I’m not out of my mind! I am stopping–”

“You’re not going out there!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am.” He says, as his expression was something that no one could pinpoint. “Let me prove this to you.”

“Prove what?” She asked, throwing her arms out. “What so desperately do you have to prove? Prove that this is the stupidest–”

“Let me prove to you that I AM SORRY!!”

Between that sentence and the front door being pounded on at the same time, Joyce was definitely lost for words. But she continues to stare at her son, trying to see if something would come out before another set of knocks came about.

As she makes her way to the door, Jonathan blurts out her name. Part of him was afraid what would happen if that was Nancy; If he thinks his mom is mad now, he could imagine when she puts two-and-two together. He calls her out again just as she opens it, both of them startled by who it was.

Hopper had his finger up in a ‘shushing’ motion, and was holding up a sign that the son couldn’t read until his mother moved out of the way. The sign read: DON’T SAY ANYTHING.

The Chief locks eyes with Jonathan, silently telling him to stay quiet too as he shuts the door. His blue orbs glanced around the room, mostly focusing on the many strings lights that were up.

Oh, Jesus. He thought, realizing this was going to take some time.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sun was halfway set when the boys arrived at an old, abandoned scrap yard that was up in the hills. When they got about a quarter of the way inside the place, one of them noticed something terrible.

“Oh, no.” Dustin said, after triple checking his surroundings.

“‘Oh, no?’ What’s, ‘Oh, no?’, Henderson?” Steve asked in a teasing way, which will fade in a second when he realizes how serious this was.

“We’re headed back home.”

“What?” Mike perks up.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked, not buying it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dustin points to the sky. “Setting sun, right there. We looped right back around.”

“And you’re just realizing this now?”

“Why is this all on me?”

“Because you’re the compass genius!”

Dustin sighs. “What do yours say?”

Both boys glanced down at theirs and replied, “North.”

“Makes no damn sense.”

“Maybe the gate moved.” Steve asked, trying to think what would be most logical.

The boy frowns. “No, I don’t think it’s the gate. I think it’s something else screwing with the compasses.”

“Maybe it’s something here.” Mike said, gesturing to their surroundings.

Dustin shakes his head. “No, it has to be like a super magnet.”

“It’s not a magnet.” Lucas hiss, bitterly, his eyes landing on the only girl with them. “She’s been acting weirder than normal. If she can slam doors with her mind, she can definitely screw up a compass.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Steve said, half stepping between them, trying to cool him down. “Why would she do that? Isn’t she your friend?”

Lucas ignores him, and swats his arm away. “Because she’s trying to sabotage our mission.” He starts stalking towards her. “Because she’s a traitor!”

“Lucas, what are you doing?” Mike asks, fearfully.

Steve tries to deescalate him again. “Hey, Sinclair, maybe cool it before–”

“Can it, Steve!” He snaps, stopping right in front of El who’s guilt started sprouting full blown. “You did it, didn’t you? You don’t want us to reach the gate. You don’t want us to find them.”

“Lucas, come on, seriously–” Mike rushes up next to him. “Just leave her alone!”

“Admit it.”

“No.” El whispers.

“ADMIT IT!” He snaps, scaring her enough to grab her arm and show off her jacket sleeve that was stained bright red. “Fresh blood. I knew it.”

“Lucas, come on!” Mike says, smacking his hand away from her.

“I saw her wiping her nose on the tracks! She was using her powers!”

“Bullshit! That’s old blood. Right, El?” And Mike’s stomach sank when she didn’t say anything. “Right, El?

“It’s... not…” El chokes back on tears, her lip quivering in shame. “It’s not safe.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After unscrewing a hundred goddamn light bulbs later, Hopper was satisfied enough to realize that the Byers’ household was untouched by the unknown.

“Okay.” He breathes, and collapses into a chair, the adrenaline he’s felt all day has finally given out. “Should be okay, I mean… I can’t guarantee it, but it should be okay.”

“What the hell is going on, Hopper?” Joyce finally asked, still keeping her voice a bit quiet. I mean, all she and her son could do was wait and let the Police Chief raid her house to get some kind of answer.

“They bugged my place.”

“Bugged?” Jonathan asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“They put a microphone in the light.” Hopper sighs, the mental strain finally hitting him hard. “It’s because I’m on to them and they know it. I don’t know…”

“Who?”

“I thought they might be watching you, too.” He shakes his head, shutting his eyes for a second. “I don’t know, the CIA, the NSA, Department of Energy... I-I don’t know.”

“You gotta explain this to us.” Joyce said, getting an agreement from her eldest. “‘Cause we’re not–”

“I went to the morgue last night, Joyce.”

That got their complete attention now. “...What?” She muttered, feeling like she was losing her breath from his words.

“It wasn’t him.” Hopper replies, getting teary eyed.

Jonathan had to hold up his mother who looked like she was about to faint from the news. “W-What do you mean?” He asks, heart pounding in his ears.

“Will’s body, it was a fake. His and Stephanie’s. They’re both fakes.” He stands up to make sure he was looking her in the eye to tell her these words, “You were right. This whole time, you were right. I should have believed you. I am so sorry, Joyce.”

“Oh, my god…” Joyce sobbed into her hands, as her son took a step back to process. “Oh, my god. I mean… w-why though? Why the fakes? Who made the fakes?”

“I don’t know.” Hopper replies, upset himself. “Like I said, someone bugged my place, I don’t know who though. Although…”

“‘Although’… what?

“I saw…” He swallows. “I saw something really strange last night. At the lab.”

“The lab?” She tilts her head. “You went to the lab?”

“I snuck in. I ended up getting punctured with a needle that knocked me out. When I woke up in my trailer, I think the people at the lab were trying to make it seem like I went on binger. My whole table was trashed with beer cans and pills. Bastards.”

“Well what did you see?”

“It’s…” How does he explain this? “First, I ended up in a hospital setting, you know, white walls, beds, cold temperatures. But then I went down lower and… I saw it.”

“Saw what?” She asked, nervously.

“I don’t… I don’t know what it is. It look like a plant, it was on the wall, it was gross looking and sticky and–”

“Was it like a bubble? And it and like a red hue to it and it was pul–”

“Pulsating?” He asked, getting a nod. “You know what I’m talking about?” But before he could get an answer, the teenager had finally spoken.

“So it really is that dangerous…” Jonathan whispers, eyes landing on him.

“What?” Joyce asked, her son started shaking his head.

“Fuck.” He mutters, and starts grabbing his hair. “Fuck…”

“What, Jonathan?! What?”

“Nancy and I both agreed to go look for that thing!” He spills, all distraughtly.

“Wait.” Joyce blinks a few times, trying to wrap her head around what she just said. “Nancy? That’s who you were talking to?!”

“What is going on?” Hopper asked, looking between the two.

“We wanted to find out what happened to Barb.” Jonathan explains. “Nancy… she… she saw that thing when she went to Steve’s house, she–”

“What? What thing?”

“She saw it too?” Joyce cuts Hopper off, intrigued by this shocking news. “What… what were you guys going to do?”

“We were going to kill it!” Jonathan replies, truthfully. “W-We… we agreed to meet at the spot Stephanie’s car was found and… shit.”

“Jonathan–”

“I fucked up.”

“Jonathan.” She pressures, trying to calm him down a smidge. “Maybe she’s by the road. She wouldn’t go exploring on her own. Right?” But her son sends her an un-assuring look that deflates her confidence. “...Right?”

Jonathan frowns, trying to hide how scared he was now. “We need to find Nancy, now.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What did I tell you?” Lucas explodes. “She’s been playing us from the beginning!”

“That’s not true.” Mike pushes back. “She helped us find Will and Stephanie!”

“Find Will and Stephanie?” He scoffs. “Find Will and Stephanie? Where are they, then?” He starts walking around the place to make a point. “Huh? I don’t see them.”

“Yeah, you know what I mean.”

“No, I actually don’t. Just think about it, Mike. She could’ve just told us where the Upside Down was right away, but she didn’t. She just made us run around like headless chickens.”

“All right, calm down!” Dustin says, cutting between them.

“I’m siding with Henderson on this one.” Steve says, eyes batting back and forth between the two. “Let’s just take a moment to breathe, and figure this out.”

“No!” Lucas yells, not listening to this. “She used us, all of us! She helped just enough so she could get what she wants. Food and a bed. She’s like a stray dog.”

“Screw you, Lucas!” Mike yells back.

“No! Screw you, Mike. You’re blind… blind because you like that a girl’s not grossed out by you. But wake up, man! Wake the hell up! She knows where they are, and now she’s just letting them die in the Upside Down.

Mike balls his hand in a fist, trying to contain his own anger. “Shut up.”

“For all we know, it’s her fault.” Lucas says, jerking his thumb towards her.

“Shut up.”

“Sinclair–” Steve warns.

“We’re looking for some stupid monster… but did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s the monster?”

“I said shut up!” Mike shouts, and tackles him to the ground.

“Stop!” El yells, worriedly.

“Knock it off, you idiots.” Dustin says, as he tries to get close.

“Stop it!”

“Oh, my– Wheeler, get off!” Steve says, and tries pulling the boys off one another. But for being only kids, they were putting up one hell of a fight to stay on top for dominance.

The shouting between Steve and Dustin went back and forth, and all their efforts to stop it suddenly ended when the girl behind them screamed ear piercingly. All of them could only watch helplessly as Lucas was flung off, hitting the ground hard, and landing against one of the scrapped vehicles.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve shouted, and raced over to the boy.

“Lucas! Lucas!” Mike yells, shaking him on the shoulder. “Lucas, are you all right?

“Lucas.” Dustin says, doing the same. “Lucas, come on!”

“Hey, hey! Careful with his neck!” Steve urges, moving their hands away as carefully examines the boy. “Shit… come on, kid.”

“Why would you do that?” Mike snaps at Eleven, who was trembling again. “What’s wrong with you? Huh?!” He could believe she would do something like this. "What is wrong with you?!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“What’s wrong with you?” Stephanie croaked, trembling at the way his voice changed into something almost demonic. He know longer sounded like the man who was supposed to be her father. “Why do you sound like that?”

Along with the voice change, his whole demeanor seemed different too. The way he stood, the way he smiled and his eyes seemed dead, yet controlling.

“Admit it…” He whispers with fire on his silver tongue. “You’re tired, you really don’t want to live anymore.”

Her throat started to feel tight again, her body was aching too. Whatever was holding her down earlier was trying to latch onto her again. “I-I…”

“You don’t want to live anymore because everything’s gone to shit.” He gestures around, still having that stupid smug on his face. “Your long friendship with Steve is over, crushed because you were an embarrassment to him.”

She shakes her head. “N-No.”

“Even after what happened at the dance, it meant nothing to him. That he didn’t love you like you thought he did.”

“St-Stop it.”

“You try to fill the gaping hole by hanging out with your brother, but he’s growing up, he’s got friends when you don’t have any. He’s already pushing you away to be with them. You’re an envious freak.”

“I’m not.” His jabs were like sticking an imaginary knife in her heart, and for some reason, deep down, she knows his jabs have some truth to them.

“Your own mother knows you’re in a rut, knows you’ve been lying to her, but you don’t want her help. You love the abyss.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“And you… are failing to keep your promise to the boy.” He says, making her gasp. “You told Will you were going to get him out, but you don’t even know how.” It was another stab to her heart. “You’re having doubts.” And another. “You’re having thoughts about how you’re never going to get out.”

“N-No…” She whispers, on the verge of tears once more, and he wasn’t done with his troubling words.

“How you’re thinking in what way the No-Face beast will get you both. Do you let it take a bite out of you first, and let the boy be a desert? Or…” His expression grows sinisterly. “Do you let it take the boy first as a mercy kill?”

Stephanie sobs, tears rolling down her pale cheeks. “N-No… No…”

“I think… that’s what you think is best. Let the boy’s suffering end quickly.”

“N-No…” She shakes her head before grabbing the sides of it. “I… I…” She sobs again. “W-Will…”

|| STEPHANIE! ||

He calls out again, but it’s barely audible, and the music is starting to sound distant again.

“I… I don’t know… I don’t know…” Stephanie said, brain feeling like it was going to melt with everything going on.

“Come.” Her father beckons. “Let it all go.” He opens his arms out wide, like he is asking for a hug as the abyss grows back around them, blocking some of the light. “You can rest, my dear daughter.”

Then the room sprinkled with a little red, and the sound of an old grandfather clock chimed around in an echo. The sound… seemed scary, but strangely welcoming. It was telling her to find it, and she almost wanted to.

“Let all go, Child.” He urges, his voice now echoing as well. “You know you want to.”

She wants to, she really wants to. But something was keeping her from doing that, something inside was telling her to stay away.

“But–” She managed to say before ‘Separate Ways’ was turned up to max volume. She screams, her head pounding as the room gets brighter again, along with Will’s voice.

|| WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! ||

“Will…” She says, looking at the opening before her head was magically moved back in her father’s direction.

“But don’t you want to leave it all behind?!” He screams. “The bad memories? The times you were called a freak? The times you were forgotten or ignored? Unloved? The times that people told you you weren’t good enough for him?”

That was another piercing to her aching heart. “B-But, Steve’s just–”

|| STEPHANIE! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?! WAKE UP! ||

Will. She needed to get back to Will. She didn’t need all this crap to be happening!

She tries to stand her ground as firmly as she can. “What is going on?”

Of course, he ignores her question and presses on harder. “Don’t you want to be free?! Give in! Forget all the bad times you’ve had! Give in!”

“But–”

And then she feels like she lost the opportunity to get the upper hand.

She gasps harshly as she feels something wrap around her throat, squeezing it tight. She feels her body freeze, and something grabbing onto her limbs to hold her place. Her father, or whoever he is now, looked even more deranged as he gave her look like he was trying to shatter her mind. And maybe he was, maybe he really was the one responsible for the tingling feeling inside, the feeling like her whole life force was being drained. She swears she can hear Will screaming her name again, but the hold on her was drowning out most of her senses.

Her father, the being, grinned even wider as his hand reached out to hover over her face. “Now… Give in, dear child.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Stephanie!” Will cries out in desperation, giving her another shake. Why isn’t the music working?! It worked for me!

This can’t be happening. This can’t be how he loses Stephanie. What was he supposed to do if she ended up dead? And what would he tell her family? Tell his family? How will they even believe him?

“Stephanie, come on! Wake up! Please!” He felt his own set of tears start rolling down his delegate cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you!”

I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lo– His pleas were cut off when her body slipped away from his hands. In something he’s only seen in horror films, he watches the teenager start floating into the air.

Way, way, way up into the air.

He couldn’t even jump up to touch her, grab her to pull her down as she was descending up into the night sky, limbs jittering like they were trying to spring free.

Will didn’t know what else to do but scream her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Lucas wakes up in a flash, his friends sighing with relief, and the teenager silently thanking the universe he was alright (He wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this to anyone if he didn’t wake up soon).

“Lucas.” Mike says, happily. “Lucas, you okay?”

“Lucas…” Dustin begins, watching him slowly prop himself up, mind wandering. “Lucas, how many fingers am I holding up?” He holds up three. “Lucas, how many fingers?”

“Hey…” Steve begins, reaching out. “Let me see your head–”

“Get off of me!” Lucas snaps, swatting everyone away.

“Lucas, just let us see–” Mike urges, which results in another slap.

“Get off of me!” He says again, standing up this time, and storming away.

“Lucas, come on.”

“Let him go.” Dustin replies, stopping him by the arm.

“But what if he–”

“He needs to cool down.”

Steve frowns, still worried that the kid might have a concussion, but what could he do? The kid was irritated, probably still didn’t like him, so more likely he wouldn’t listen (and he wasn’t listening to his friends anyway, so…).

He sighs, running a hand through his locks, thinking. “This is… insane. That little girl really does have powers.”

“Told you.” Mike said, head hung low in shame.

“Hey, relax. Your friend just needs to–” Steve frowns after counting who was present. “Where is she?”

Dustin and Mike’s eyes begin bolting around in the low light, searching for any signs of her. Them and Steve started shouting her name, concern was evident, and time was the essence. Did she really take off? Did she really feel that guilty about everything she just had to leave?

“I…” Mike begins, getting mad at himself. “I knew I should have yelled at her like that!”

“Hey, you had every right to do so. She did fling Lucas.” Dustin points out.

“Yeah, but we need her! We need her to find that gate for us.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like she was never going to.”

Mike frowns, that sentence punching him right in the gut. Maybe Lucas was right. Maybe he really was being played for a fool this whole time. “Even if she wasn’t, we still got to find her.”

“We can try, but it’s getting dark.” Dustin says, gesturing to the fading sun. “We don’t even have flashlights.”

“Well, then we’ll go back to our houses to get some.”

“Mike–”

“We have to!”

“Mike, our parents are not going to let us out. Especially if Lucas tells his parents he got hurt hanging out with us today.”

“But–”

“Hey, listen to Henderson, alright?” Steve cuts in, his mind made up about something.

“But, we have to go look for her, Steve!” Mike pushes.

“I get that, but your parents are going to expect you home. And they probably are going to bug me on why we were out so late. So you’re going home.”

“But El–”

“I will look for her.”

Mike blinks. “What?”

“I will look for her, okay?” Steve repeats. “I will go back to my house to change and grab some supplies, and then I’ll come right back here and search around.”

Dustin looks surprised. “You’re actually willing to do that?”

“Yeah. I am.” He nods. “I’ll do my best to try to find her, and if I do, maybe I can convince her to actually help us. Or get her to at least explain why finding this isn’t safe.” He looks between them while finishing with, “But you two need to go home. Let’s not worry your parents. Especially you Henderson. Let’s not make your mom worry about another kid.”

Dustin averts his eyes away, feeling a bit ashamed at the thought of hurting his mother like that. He was so hung up on finding this gate that he didn’t wonder how she must be feeling right now. And she thinks she just buried her daughter today. I can only imagine how worried she is.

“So does that sound reasonable to you guys?” Steve asks, interrupting their thoughts.

“Yeah.” Mike says, nodding. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Good.” He looks at them worriedly before waving for them to start walking. “Let’s head back.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When they arrived they saw her car parked on the side of the road with no one inside. The three of them never got out and slammed their doors that quickly before, as they ran into the woods, flashlights and weapons in hand.

“NANCY!” Jonathan called out, his heart racing what he might find. She had to be okay. He wasn’t sure how he would live with himself if she wasn’t. So he screams out her name again, both his mother and Hopper joining in.

“Nancy!” Joyce yells, running to look behind every nook and cranny amongst the trees and shrubs. “Nancy!”

“Nancy Wheeler!” Hopper shouts, eyes glue to the ground, looking for any signs of life.

“Nancy! Where are you?!”

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries again, the guilt in his gut has started to take huge chunks of him now. “Fuck. Fuck…”

“Hey.” His mother says, getting his attention. “Don’t beat yourself up yet. We just started.”

“How can I not, mom?! For all I know is, she’s that thing’s dinner.”

“You don’t know that.” She shakes her head. “You don’t know that.”

“Mom, please, I–”

“Hey!” Hopper says while snapping his fingers. “We might have a problem.” He waited for them to get closer for him to shine his flashlight down by his feet, and there was a trail of blood that stretched further into the woods. “It’s fresh.” He frowns, nervously. “Come on.”

They start following the trail, their breaths caught in their throats. What if this was hers? What if that thing did show up and caught her? Was she still alive? Was she badly hurt? What would the outcome be?

“NANCY!” Jonathan calls out once more, half expecting no reply until–

“Jonathan!”

The three of them paused, startled to hear a girl’s voice. He says her name again, and gets the same reply.

“Shit–” Hopper curses and bolts off, the two of them hot on his tail.

“Nancy!” Jonathan shouts again, the blood path ends right at a tree trunk. But what was at the base of the tree is what made him gag, the sight of something so disgusting with veins oozing out of the bark like it was infected.

Joyce gasps sharply. “T-That’s it! That was what was on my wall!”

“And that’s what I saw in the lab.” Hopper replies, crouching down with the rest of them. He brushes away some of the sticky cobwebs, a red hue covering his hand. “What the hell is this th–”

“JONATHAN!!”

The three of them flinched when they heard her voice again.

Her voice that was…

Coming out of the tree.

“Nancy!” Jonathan’s eyes widened as slams his fist into the tree, trying to see if he got the bubble to pop. He wasn’t going to lose her like this. Not when she was literally at their fingertips. He tries again, and again, screaming her name.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Stephanie heard her name again in the far distance, and all she could do was move her crying eyes towards the opening. Even in this… whatever this place was, the light was trying to come in, trying to save her from giving in, but…

It was getting so hard to not give in.

She felt his fingers start brushing the sides of her face, drowning out her favorite song that was likely the last time she’ll ever hear it.

So this is it. She thought, depressingly. This is how she dies. Not by the cold, nor the starvation, and nor getting killed by the beast, no. She was going to die by an imagination of her father. She felt some more tears roll down her paralyzed body, and started accepting her fate.

If this is it, then I guess I’ve lived… a pretty decent life. She starts closing her eyes, her soul in this force’s grasp–

|| STEPHANIE! WAKE UP! ||

Will… I’m so sorry. Her heart clenches for him. I failed you… I am so–

|| PLEASE, WAKE UP! I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! ||

She gasps quietly. Will…

|| I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU! NOT LIKE THIS! PLEASE! ||

He’s… he’s not mad at me?

|| WE’RE SUPPOSED TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! ||

But, I–

|| WE ARE GOING TO GET OUT OF THIS TOGETHER! SO FIGHT IT! ||

Fight it? Can she? Can she get out of this hold?

Her father must have realized she was thinking this and intervened. “You don’t want to fight it. You want to give in. Let it all go.” He says, making her start doubting again.

Maybe… I should.

|| WHATEVER HAS A HOLD ON YOU, YOU NEED TO FIGHT! FIGHT IT! COME BACK TO ME! ||

Another gasp.

Come back to me.

He wants her to come back to him. He wants her too. He wants her to be with him.

He wants me to be with him. He actually does.

|| REMEMBER WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR! WE HAVE TO GO HOME! WE HAVE TO GET HOME TO OUR FAMILIES! REMEMBER WHAT WE HAVE WAITING FOR US WHEN WE GET HOME! ||

Remember.

Remember what she has waiting for her.

Remember.

Remember everything that brings her joy.

// Dustin, meet your big sister // Her Mother said, placing the tiny baby in her arms. Stephanie remembers how happy she was to become a big sister. She remembers how much that title meant to her.

She remembers the clown costume she wore for one Halloween. The first one she was hanging out with her brother and his friends. They all decided that year to dress as their D&D characters, and how happy they were when their costume were finally done being made – and how much candy they scored from the creativity of it all.

She remembers her mom teaching her to sew. She ripped a hole in her favorite shirt, and her mother was patient and kind enough to show how to do it the next time it happens.

// Thanks, mom //

// Anytime, sweetheart //

It rained halfway through the concert, that warm season rain. But the band kept playing, Munson even cracking a joke about it in the middle of their song. Stephanie laughed in excitement, slicking her locks back from her face as her and the crowd cheered them on.

// This is amazing // She said, looking at her friend. // Thank you //

// Even with the rain? // Steve asked, smiling fondly.

// Even with the rain // And she smiles back.

// This is the best gift ever! // The eight year old birthday boy, Dustin, shouts, and holds up a vintage X-Men comic. // Thank you, Phanie! //

He almost knocks her over, hugging her tightly and giving one of his rare kisses to her cheek.

// Hey… Hey… I wanna… I wanna tell you something // Steve slurs, leaning his upper body against the cafeteria table. The two of them had snuck away from the ‘Snow Ball’ and decided to be a little naughty. He somehow managed to sneak in some alcohol to celebrate them going into the Teen Years.

Stephanie giggles, a bit of a ditzy drunk. // W-What? Spit it out, S-Stevie //

// Ooookay… // He leans forward more. // Fia… I… I l-love you //

She hums, smiling. // Well, I love you too, Steve. //

// Noooo, no. N-Not like that. // He says, partially laying half his body over the table now to grab her hand. // Like… I love you, love you //

She remembers the second day of being here in this strange place. And despite how scared she was for her and Will, she honestly enjoyed the boy’s company. He reminded her of so much like Dustin, just a bit quieter, unless you were talking about his favorite things.

Steph shakes her head with a sigh. // Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to prove him wrong when I play //

// So you are going to play with us! // Will said, joyfully, like you just told him Christmas was coming early.

// If that’s how I prove Lucas wrong, then so be it. So how does one newbie play D&D? // She asked, hopefully this will keep him occupied.

The last thing she remembers is Steve pressing his lips into hers, proving his point that he loves her more than a friend.

Stephanie doesn’t know what possessed her, but she snaps her eyes open and uses her new found strength to push her father away from her. Like she was being held by rope, the invisible hold snapped and she fell to her knees, gasping in air.

Will. I got to get to Will. She tells herself, as she feels someone looming over her. She takes a look and screams. Whoever replaced the appearance of her father was someone who looked inhumane. Its whole body looked burned and bent, some hair stuck out from the top of its head, and it had an eye that looked like it had been blinded. Its pissed off expression was enough to make her scramble away and break for the opening at the end of the darkness.

She took only a split second to look back as she felt like she broke through an invisible barrier, the gambling room was gone and replaced with an area that was covered in gross vines and scattered in a crimson color. A storm brewed above her, in its own version of thunder and lightning. The figure stayed in one place, watching her try to run away before deciding to create some obstacles.

Stephanie felt the ground shake beneath her, and watched as what looked like spikes shot up and out of the bloody ground. She shrieked and dodged the best she could, trying to stay more hopeful when she could hear ‘Separate Ways’ again, and Will’s cries for her not to give up.

I can’t give up! I have to go home! She hears her inner thoughts echoed, along with somebody else’s. As she continues breaking into a sprint, something catches her eye. Alongside her she can see a few silhouettes that seemed to be running at the same pace as her. She blinks and turns to the otherside, seeing the same thing.

‘I can’t give up!’ They all shouted, but she couldn’t pinpoint the voices or who these people were supposed to be.

Is this another trick? Or were these other victims of this place?

Her thoughts were cut off when something fell from the sky, knocking her over, dousing her red. She wastes not a second of hesitation to push herself back up and run, the silhouettes disappearing from her sight. Now, she has to put all her focus on the opening that was starting to grow smaller and smaller.

She balls her hands into fists, pushing herself to the limit. She hears her name being screamed, and the room rattling more. And as she gets closer and closer to the light, she prays she’d make it through – taking the literal leap of faith, she jumps with all her might into glow…

She screams awake, and begins free falling to the ground.

“Stephanie!” Will shouts, as the girl went splat across the ground. “Stephanie!”

Steph screams again, shooting up a sitting position as she claws the walkman off her head. She takes in a whole gulp of air that sounds like she’s choking, and panting at the same time. The thought of her almost dying was repeating over and over again on a loop in her mind.

“Stephanie!” He cries out, and tackles her for a hug. “Stephanie…” He squeezes her tight, the reality of it all settling in for the both of them. Tears were rolling down his face as he buried his head into her neck. “Steph… I-I thought I lost you. I r-really, really d-did.”

It took a split second before she broke down crying too, sobbing loudly as she wrapped her arms around him in the same vice grip. The thought of almost leaving him alone in this place scared her so much.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” She whispers, trying to comfort them both. “I’m okay… You saved me…” She hears him start bawling at her words making her break even more. “You saved me… you really did save me…”

And that was one hundred percent the truth.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve manages to get the kids home, bidding them goodbye and reassuring Mike that he was in fact going out to look for El. He just needs to go home first to change out of his suit and get the appropriate equipment. When he arrived home a little after nine, he noticed all the lights were off, and felt a bit of relief.

Good. I can get in and out. But his hopes were just burned at the stake, ‘cause as soon as he opens the door, the living room light turns on. He freezes and winces when he knows who it is.

“You went to her funeral?” His mother said, arms crossed as she was sitting in a chair.

Jesus Christ, of course… He keeps a straight face to look at her. “My girlfriend asked me to come to Will Byers’ funeral. He was the best friend of her brother. The only reason I went to Stephanie’s is because it was a joint funeral.”

“Joint funeral?” Jessica asks, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Yeah.” He nods. “The families are close, and they both died together so…”

She hums, standing up, walking over to get right in his face. “You’re not lying to me, are you, Steven?”

“No, Mom. Why would I lie to you?”

“‘Cause you have before.”

“Well not this time. I went there to support Nancy and family through this hard time.”

She hums again, buying his lie this time. “Okay. Just checking.” Then she sighs. “It’s a shame though, the Wheelers are close to those Byers. Not exactly a classy family.”

Steve felt his blood boil a bit, and had to hold his tongue. He should have foreseen her saying something like this.

“But…” She continues. “You are dating a Wheeler, so I can let that slide.”

Oh, he really wants to say something to her now, but he doesn’t want to start a war. At least not yet. “Where’s dad?”

“Sleeping. Long day at the office for him.”

“Sounds like it.” Steve shifts his stance. “Uh, listen, I’m going to uh, hit the hay myself.” He starts making his way towards the stairs. “Night, mom.”

“You going to shower first?” Jessica asks, stopping him again.

He quietly sighs, no point in pushing back. “Yeah, mom, I’ll shower first.”

“Good.” She smiles, and squeezes his shoulder as she passes by. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He lets her go up the stairs first and up to her room before doing the same. Their interaction wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be, probably because he didn’t push back on her like he sometimes did. Steve snags some comfortable clothes in his room while stepping inside the bathroom, turning the shower on. Knowing his mother, she was probably staying up and waiting to see if he actually listened to her “suggestion”.

Sicko. He thought, shedding off his funeral wear to change into the extras. He cleans his face off, thinking of his plan. El could have gone anywhere, and he wasn’t sure what a one man show like him can do about it. But he’s made a promise to the boys, one that he has to keep.

And for my sake, I have to find her. I need to know if she’s okay.

He has to.

He needs to.

She might be the key to finding Stephanie.

(TBC)

-A/N: Fin! Thanks for sticking for the two parts :) -

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theoriginalivyannazimuth · 2 months

Text

Cyberpunk 2077 AU Fic // Dead But Pretty - I - The Heist.

V and Jackie Wells are the frontmen, T-Bug the netrunner, DeShawn the brains, and Parker the employer. We know how this will go. We know who will live and die, and we know who’s left in the wake of the failed op on Arasaka tower; but what if things were different? What if the chip found its way into the head of a nobody? Not a merc, solo, or netrunner, but a chump off the streets or a janitor?

Forward:

I don’t really know the etiquette of writing fanfiction, the last time I did was over 10 years ago, but coming off of autistic burnout I’ve found myself obsessed with Cyberpunk 2077 and hoping to regain the ability to write again. I don’t have any big plans for this fanfiction and don’t even know if I will continue it for more than a chapter. Either way, thank you in advance for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments.

I - The Heist

Konpeki Plaza was supposed to be a safe job. A swanky hotel in the good end of town attended by the upper crust of society, so well funded that even the janitors had a trauma team package. Chloe rarely had to worry about putting bread on the table since starting and while it was a dead end job, gone were the days of considering joining a doll house or the military just to get by. Neither of which she would do well in with her soft body, short stature, and meek nature. The only thrills she got were from watching Watson Whore in her tiny apartment, and from her Samurai-fueled daydreams while she changed out the Konpeki Plaza bedding in a trashed hotel room.

Her cochlear implants were the only cyberware she sported other than the standard personal link and ports. She spent her life glued to the radio as she dreamt away her day cleaning a hotel that made more money on a single-night rental than she made in a month. Rarely was her attention ever diverted from her tunes and her chores. When it was, it was because the shit hit the fan. A corpo cunt got zeroed and she got the honours of picking up the room afterward, a bomb threat after a Militech negotiation went wrong, and of course, that one time a cyberpsycho decided to shoot up the bar. She was expecting a similar shit show when she clocked in and was met with her manager’s glowering face.

He was never a happy man. He could have Lizzy Wizzy riding him with a fist full of eddies and a head filled with drugs and he would still find a reason to run his mouth, but today was different. His scowl and posture were more akin to a drill sergeant than a hotel house keeping manager. There was purpose and pride behind it.

“Yorinobu Arasaka will be here today-”

Chloe rolled her eyes and held back a “Isn’t he always?”

“- but that’s the least of our worries. We have it on good authority that The Emperor himself will be giving us a visit.”

The words set Chloe’s hair on end. The Emperor. Saburo. What could he possibly be doing here? If it were an official visit, all of Night City would know, but this is the first time anyone was hearing about it.

“I don’t need to tell you that this needs to stay under wraps. Don’t go bragging to your chooms that you served him, talked to him, or wiped his ass. Don’t slack off, no tunes, no phones, no unapproved implants, we are running a tight ship tonight.” He paced, arms held behind his back. It was like watching an oversized child playing soldier as his words slurred, struggling under the overwhelming weight of his own inflated ego and alcoholism.

He rambled going over basic chores and duties as if they were all new hires and not people who have been working there for years at this point. Konpeki has a low turnover and a lower hire rate. Chloe’s mind wandered to the upper gardens by the penthouse where she was set to tend to this week. Nobody else knew how to keep the plants alive and vibrant to the hotel’s standards. She lacked the pressure this visit placed on the others. No beds to make, no complaints to listen to, no accusations of theft from the upper class, just her tunes which she would use despite her manager’s demands, and the plants. She came to when he demanded, “Got that?”. She gave a curt nod, headed to the changing room got into uniform, and wandered off expecting another uneventful day.

The day was as uneventful as she expected until sundown. She made idol small talk with some of the guards, pruned the hedges, raked the stones into their perfect little patterns. In the evening she swept the halls as the wall mounted TV’s chattered over the muffled typing of the security manager’s computer.

“- Karina, what is relic exactly, in a word if you could”

“In one word? I’d say Immortality.”

“Immortality, really?”

“That’s right! Relic allows you to transfer the consciousness of a dying person finding a new home for a soul on a transferable chip. This person, they’ll never leave your side; a companion forever with you in your own consciousness! Just imagine if-”

“Child, child, think for a moment about what you’re saying. This relic is an abomination that feeds on human misery. It is an unnatural likeness, a golden calf born by false prophets! What’s more this technology is just another tool for correction and corruption. Only the wealthy and powerful elite will have access and they will pay any price in exchange for a chance at “”immortality””. Arisaka speaks of preserving the soul but they can promise nothing more than a heartless mindless algorithm speaking with the voice of the departed.”

“W-Well that is true that Arisaka corp has specifically limited access to the relic to-”

“Your promise is a lie! An evil lie motivated by greed and lust for power-!”

Chloe groaned and rolled her eyes.

“What? Not a religious person?” One of the guards, Tom, asked.

“Not particularly, no, but that’s not my issue.”

“Well?”

“I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t say considering our guests of honour today.”

“Come on, Chloe, It’s not like they care what we say. Certainly not what you say, anyway.”

“Gee thanks man.” She sighed. “I dunno. They’re both tools. I don’t care if they can directly clone your personality, ego death still happens when your body dies. They can copy you but you still die, all that they do is have a probably not completely accurate copy of you for the living to control.”

“Ego death? You been hanging ‘round that Misty chick again?”

Chloe blushed. “I mean- yeah but what’s that got to do with it? I’m right.”

“So you’re on the father’s side?”

“No fuck that tool. Ziggy’s right, they’re shilling out the same crap but on a spiritual level. The only difference is the corps pray on the rich and the church preys on the poor. Same shit, different ass.”

He let out a sigh. “Damn choomba, you’re a drag sometimes, you know?”

“Nah you’re just bored and wanted me to argue with you. We should grab drinks when we’re off. This place is melting your brain.”

“Can’t argue with that. If I have to tell one more rich idiot that I can’t give them a refund and don’t control the room temps I’m gonna blow a fuse. Do I look like a maid?”

“To the rich assholes here, anyone who’s not them or their superiors are. Trust me it doesn’t get better when you actually are one. You can point your gun at them, what do I have? A mop and 5 feet 4 inches and 30 years of spite with nothing to back it up with. Y’know a guy last week took a wine bottle-”

“Attention-” The lights flicked to a malicious red gleam. “-code red as been initiated throughout Konpeki Plaza. Please remain in your rooms, and follow all instructions given by staff.”

“What happened? Tom?” Chloe’s heart fluttered and her hands tightened around the broom handle.

He was pale as a ghost as information was passed through his implants. “Saburo has been murdered..”

“What?! HERE?!”

“Here. The hotel is on lockdown. Let's get you to the meeting point- never mind, just got orders all staff on this level are under suspicion-”

“All? Lilly’s shift ended and Jay is late! It’s only been me for a half hour! You guy know-”

“Orders are orders. You didn’t do anything, you’ll be fine.” He planted a firm grip on her arm and started pulling her towards a room by the security desk. “You’ll be ok, it’s fine, just stay put and-”

Gunshots echoed through the glistening red halls. He turned away only for a moment before his head popped and hot blood, brains, and skull pelted her face. Her ears rang so loud she didn’t hear her own scream as guards fell around her. She covered her head and pinned herself against the wall, the world blacking out for a few seconds as her brain tried to shield her from what was happening. When colour returned Jackie was there. Covered in blood, his giant hands pulled her own away from her face.

“Chloe?! Chicka p-please say that’s not your blood!”

“J-Jackie?! You killed Saburo?! You killed Saburo!”

“We didn’t!” A frantic voice insisted from behind the behemoth of a man.

V, clad in corporate silk and blood, pulled Jackie by the shoulder away from her. V was a skinny woman she only met once. A friend of Misty, basically family to the Welles’s, and a two-bit street kid with nothing notable behind or ahead of her.

“But it doesn’t matter now, we gatta get the fuck out of here!” V stammered. “Do you know a way out?!”

“Fuck you, I ain't goin’ down with your shit! There’s a goddamn reason I’m a maid and not a fucking thug, and it’s shit like this!” Chloe pushed Jackie away.

He stumbled back into V’s steadying arms. “Jackie doesn’t have much time, this ain't about the chip, he’s gonna die!”

“I- what chip? Jack-!”

More guards flooded out of the elevator and the halls were once again filled with the cacophonous echoes of gunshots. She plastered her hands over her ears and adrenaline filled her body with the need to run or fight or do something. It sharpened everything and made time slow to a crawl.

Jackie dispatched two guards with his gilded Tsunami Nues. They fell, V rebooted another’s optics. As he stumbled back V plunged a dagger into his throat. Blood slicked her hands and the last guard locked eyes with Chloe and raised his Shigure submachine gun. His finger tensed on the trigger at the exact moment Jackie’s bullet took his jaw off.

“Come on mija we gatta go! ‘Sides l-looks like they made their minds up about you.”

“Fuck you!” Chloe wiped the viscera off her face.

V huffed “Stay if you want but we need to go!”

V pulled him towards the elevator. Chloe froze for a moment but the sounds of boots rushing towards them pushed her to follow. Jackie stumbled in and her throat tightened. It looked bad. She swatted away V’s hand from the floor buttons and punched the 4th floor.

“What are you doin’?!”

Bullets pelted the wall and a few whizzed passt as she flinched and imbedded themselves into the elevator’s glass accent panel behind them. The doors closed, protecting them from the hale of gunfire.

“There’s a maintenance elevator we use for shipments.” Chloe exhaled and wiped the grime from her face with her pink apron. “Few cams, low security, garage access. Faster and safer than the main way. You have a ride?”

V blinked, clearly not expecting her to be of any help.

“V?”

“Uh, yea, hopefully. You have access?”

“Assuming nobody’s flagged my account yet, yeah, my card should work.”

Chloe’s green eyes honed in on Jackie’s side. “Looks bad.”

“I’ve had worse.”

They lurched to a halt and the doors opened into an empty corridor bathed in red strobe light. The trio trotted through, weaving between carts filled with towels, toiletries, and linen. They turned a corner and Chloe grabbed a sheet from a stack of clean laundry.

“Jacket off. Now.” She barked as she struggled to fold it flat and thin.

Jackie forced a chuckle. “I’m a taken man-”

V peaked behind the corner they turned. “Jack, do what she says.”

He struggled to shrug it off. It clung and stuck to his soaked torso.

“V. Take this end. Hold it here. Apply pressure.”

The pink-haired mirk did as she was told. Chloe could see her hands shaking. She wrapped Jackie as tightly as possible and tied a tight knot.

“Fuck, tight enough?” He hissed.

“Not nearly but it’ll do.” Chloe muttered.

Flashes of med school flicked through her vision. Books, diagrams, rotations, the look of her mother when she dropped out after her first cyberpsycho victim. She pulled a booster from a medkit on a trolly and plunged it into Jackie. The massive man hissed as it was tossed away.

“Bought you a few more minutes but we need to get you to Vic’s, stat.”

“After you, then.” He wiped the sweat off his pale brow.

The labyrinthian halls were disorienting in the dark. She nearly took more than a few wrong turns but found her way past the staff meeting point. They snuck by unnoticed and into the elevator. They were nearly in the clear. She tried to shove down the anger that was bubbling in her gut.

“Saburo fucking Arasaka…” Jackie muttered.

“And you gonks zeroed him. What did you think you’d get from this??”

“Wasn’t us, wasn’t what we were here for.” V grumbled. “Just wanted the fuckin biochip, wasn’t our fault Yorinobu-”

“Shh!” Chloe waved at her and pressed herself against the wall as the doors opened.

More guards than she could count huddled together, guns trained on the main garage access.

“What do we do?” She whispered.

“See that Delamain?” V motioned with her head to the car in the middle of the sea of guards.

“Yeah?”

“Run for it!”

V launched herself out of the elevator. Jackie tried to follow but wasn’t nimble enough. Chloe pulled his arm over her shoulders and tried to speed him up, half in an attempt to help, half to use him as a shield. The men took a millisecond to notice the trio running from across the parking bay but their autoaim implants reacted almost immediately. A bullet grazed Chloe’s cheek and thigh but she stumbled into the Delamain and pulled the massive man with her.

The three were piled upon each other as the cab’s tires screeched against the pavement. They peeled out of the garage and for but a moment, there was a sliver of hope. The way was clear.

And then it wasn’t.

The earth shook as the biggest borg Chloe had ever seen made impact with the ground. Tarmac went flying and the unshakeable Jackie screeched as the man sprinted towards the car.

“Please remain calm. Roadblock ahead.” The car’s VI chimed cheerily.

“No shit “road block”!” V screamed.

Chloe covered her head as the cab made a U turn and gunned it for the exit. There was a barricade of cars waiting for them which the cab paid no mind to. They plowed through as bullets peppered the car, shot from behind the death machine in pursuit.

“A hostile enemy aircraft has a lock on us.” The car reported.

“Leave it to me!” V pulled her sidearm from the center console and hung out the window, taking potshots at the drones that pursued.

“Ugh! Why can’t they just give up?!” Jackie demanded as he clutched his bandaged side.

“Head down!” Chloe demanded. “It’ll be ok, Jack!”

“Don’ think it will, Chika.” He groaned, head on a nod and eyes losing focus.

“Jackie?? Hold on, we will get you to Vic’s! Take us to Vic’s!” She demanded as V took down the last of the drones.

“I’m afraid that will not be possible. Our itinerary has been arranged and paid for in advance, I am not at liberty to alter it.”

V punched the back of the seat. “Fuck your liberty!”

“I’m fine… it’s fine… V… the chip-”

Jackie pressed his finger against the port behind his ear and a glowing red chip popped out.

“Nuh uh! No way! I’m not putting that thing in my head! After all this-”

“Someone has to, I’m not gonna make it.”

“Don’t talk like that” Chloe reprimanded. “You’ll be fine, just gotta chill and keep pressure-”

She was cut off by V’s cold wet hand pulling her by the hair to her. She pulled the chip from Jackie and thrust it into Chloe’s port.

“The fuck, V?!” Jackie demanded. “Civilian! She ain't part o’ this!”

“She is now! Not about to let her wander off and tell the PD about this, no free rides!”

Chloe pushed V’s hands away. “Mother fucker if this thing has some sort of virus-”

“You’ll do what? Clean me to death?!”

“Chingada madre! Will you two stop?!” Jackie yelled. His laboured breaths spoke louder than his words.

“Fine” Chloe grit her teeth. “Delamain, after we reach our destination, take him to Vic’s right away-”

“That will come at a cost-”

“DeShawn is footing the bill.” V huffed. “He can-”

“Request has been denied on the part of your benefactor.”

Chloe let out a yell and clawed at her hair. “Fine, I’ll pay, I’ll take your stupid chip to your stupid fixer, and I’ll deal with the fallout of your stupid fucking decisions!”

“Transfer received. We are arriving at your first destination.”

He pulled into a back ally behind the No Tell Motel and V pushed her way out, dragging Chloe with her.

“... knew this was a fucking bad idea, shit two-bit fixer, shit job, shit team- keep up!”.

Chloe was tripping over her own feet as V led her by the collar through the roach-infested motel. The room where DeShawn was held up in was no cleaner than the rest of the dive.

“WNS, N54, even the pirate networks… you blowin' up everywhere! And the rando! You got the chip?”

Chloe swallowed hard “Yes! Take it. I just wanna go home!”

“Hmph. I was afraid o’ that. Saburo Arasaka dead. You got any notion of the shit you pulled me into?” He turned from them, taking a drag on his cigar. “You offed the fuckin’ Emperor! His Majesty! Anyone with so much as a pinky toe dipped in this mess is as good as dead!”

V bristled. “You’re the one who got us into this mess! Let’s start with your “prep work” You had no idea Saburo Arasaka’d be at the hotel?!”

“I don’t have access to his personal fucking schedule, and besides, nobody asked you to kill the old man!”

“That wasn’t us!”

“No shit?! Tell that to the ‘Saka ninjas they send after you!... A’ight settle down. Gatta be tactical ‘bout this.” He sat down. “Parker, eddies, then we leave the city limits behind…”

“W-What about Jackie?” Chloe asked.

“Choom wasn’t well enough to drag his ass in here, he’s on his own. You, girl, your face… got blood all over it. Bathrooms there. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

Chloe shakily nodded and stumbled into the bathroom. She b-lined for the toilet and let the day's lunch out into the bowl. Her body started to shake as the quiet sank in.

“God… Tom.” She wiped her forehead. A chunk of grey matter plunked into the vomit-filled bowl below. She filled the sink with cold water and plunged her head in. Partially remembering her therapist saying that’s how you should handle anxiety, but mostly because it was everywhere. Blood and skull and brains and gore mixed with tears she didn’t know she shed and snot she didn’t know was running. She looked into the mirror, black bangs clinging to her face, mascara streaking down her cheeks, and her two braids still sporting mysterious chunks.

She turned to leave and the moment the door opened two shots rang out and the world went black.

#will post to ao3 when the waiting list is done. apparently I have a week long wait to get a account #cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #v #femv #jackie welles #konpeki plaza #fanfic #fanfiction #au #Dead But Pretty #Johnny Silverhand #hurt/comfort #friendship #suspense #possible romance?

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deepfriedseagullfeet · 2 years

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me spending all day in bed thinking of all the ways my version of Jack could be even more fucked up and horrific than anti

#tws in tags for abuse and drugs #what do i talk about first......jack in my canon torturing anti #or perhaps the au i came up with where he keeps jameson and anti locked up in his basement #or maybe the one where jack fully funds anti's life in secret including down payments on his house despite anti being a vicious murderer #jack even going as far as to hide the bodies of antis rampages #and even sometimes watching emotionlessly as anti violently abuses jameson right in front of him #also what if i gave jack a crippling drug addiction that he shared with anti which leads to them committing crimes together #to fuel their need for drugs all behind the other egos backs #or how about a concept i came up with at work where after anti stole jacks body jack was still alive behind antis eyes #and in their shared mind continually verbally abused him and forced the body to do bad things #and everything anti ever does is fight back against jack #idk bro my anti is rly bad and im like. what if there was someone Worse than him #cause thats kinda terrifying to me #i have this idea that anti is perpetuating a cycle of abuse #or that he blames all his behavior on Jack #like. its already canon that jack left marvin on the side of the road to die like an unwanted litter of kittens #what else is this piece of shit capable of ya know #ego posting

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roanniom · 4 years

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The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield.

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

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tintentrinkerin · 3 years

Text

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

#wincest #dean x sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #rating:nc 17 #dean with a pussy #wincest smut

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midnight-in-town · 3 years

Text

About the current (last?) arc of AnY and going full circle

Sorry if some fans already mentioned those ideas but I’ve been rereading the current arc, because it’s been quite long and the pace has its flaws sometimes, so I wanted to broaden my perspective on the story.

First of all, as an introduction can I just say that I’m, as always, impressed by Hak’s character. He had so much cliché and shallow potential when the story started (I really used to roll my eyes at him), but he became one of my absolute favorite by how deep and strong-hearted he actually is, once he allows people behind the walls he built around him. Anyway, my love for his character & development knows no boundary. I had to say this, ok. I’ll explain why later in the post. Moving on.

A conflict of generation

If there is one thing I love about Kusanagi-sensei, it’s the feminine touch she adds to her writing. For example, when she naturally addressed periods during the Xing arc and it fit perfectly, because that’s just how her writing goes. In this arc, it shows through the initial bold move to tell us readers about the past through the thoughts and words of a character we’ve never met, that is to say, Yonhi, Yuhon’s wife and Suwon’s mother.

And yet, it made absolute sense, because Yonhi was the reason behind the cataclysm that eventually led to Yuhon killing priests, as well as the falling-out between him and his younger brother, Il. All along, Yonhi was the silent but pained witness to this feud, watching as the ego of two brothers destroyed everything when none of the two backed down, leading to first Kashi’s death, then Yuhon’s murder and finally Suwon’s coup.

So, in a way, even if I think Suwon makes a far better king than Yuhon or Il, his circumstances kinda precede the logical decision to get Il out of the picture before he completely annihilated his own kingdom in poverty and war, because there is too much resentment and hatred that fueled Suwon while growing up, even if we readers know that his motivations are primarily about saving Kouka from war against the Kai Empire.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely despise both Yuhon and Il but, unfortunately for Suwon, Yona growing up sheltered and mostly unaware of the horrible truth highlights her own decisions throughout the series to be completely selfless and wanting to own up to her father’s misjudgement, rather than trying to get back at Suwon, effectively breaking the cycle of hatred amongst the royal family.

Why the Wind Tribe kept on supporting Il when everyone else could notice that he was betting on his daughter as the reincarnation of King Hiryuu to save his country is beyond me (Mundok plz explain). Not that Yuhon was better, preaching wars, and I’m glad that Il eventually reconciled with Yonhi, telling him that he would accept Suwon’s judgement but...

...I can’t forgive him for his words.

Like Yonhi, I’d rather he would have hoped that his conflict with his brother did not reach his children than entertaining it the way he did.

Hopefully though, now that Yona read Yonhi’s memoirs, she will work towards achieving that goal. Not that I have any doubt, since she never really managed to hate Suwon.

Speaking of the past generation, reading the latest chapters I couldn’t help but wonder about Yona's sad dream... could it be that she inherited Kashi’s gift? Kashi did say that she had these prophetic visions since very young which doesn’t seem to be Yona’s case, but I’ll keep the idea in mind, because it’s interesting. I mean, from Yonhi’s memoirs, it seems that Kashi envisioned that the child she would have would be Hiryuu’s reincarnation (whoever the father was going to be), so Yona inheriting the same prophetic gift from her mother would make sense.

What an ironic parallel to Suwon inheriting the Crimson Illness from Yonhi if that’s the case, am I right?

Yona as Kouka’s next Queen

And by that I do not mean Keishuk’s plan to marry her to Suwon, because of her popularity with Kouka’s people. Obviously, the story always was to conclude in Yona getting her throne back and that’s even easier to imagine with Suwon’s disabling illness, but becoming a ruler is tough work and Yona had no real experience acting as a leader for an entire country.

She didn’t know much before her father’s murder and, even after she became a runaway with Hak and the rest of the HHB, she finely dealt with crises affecting some parts of the kingdom but never the whole kingdom at once, like it’s doomed to happen with the war against the Kai Empire.

So I really appreciated her stepping up when Suwon couldn’t, because that’s definitely good training and we see the results in the latest chapters:

To be fair, I always thought that Keishuk would be the biggest thorn in Yona’s side during this arc but, as many characters have said in this arc, he’s rather clever and honest about what he intends to achieve, which is why it’s not in his interests to get in the way of Yona if they share a similar goal.

Looking forward to her facing even greater challenges. Good luck, Yona. <3

War against the Kai Empire: there is strength in unity

The Kai Empire has been depicted as the story’s big bad for a long while now and the common goal for which Yona’s faction and Suwon’s allies could unite, but I’m glad to get more specifics and new characters to explore that part of the plot.

Namely, Mei and Vall. With Chagol, they seem like the perfect foil trio to Suwon, Yona and Hak, except that Chagol seems like a real thorn in the other two’s backs, when a strong bond still ties our main trio in spite of the sad circumstances of the beginning. I particularly love the mirroring reflection between Mei and Yona...

...except that Mei is not at odds with one kingdom but with two and that she also deals with the Crimson Illness. :/

Now that war has started, the big threat that South Kai represents will obviously be dealt with, but Kouka kingdom will need more than its five tribes to win this. That’s where I’m sure we all expect to see old “enemies” come back, namely Xing Kingdom, since Kouren signed a military agreement with Suwon, thanks to Yona and Tao. I would bet that this won’t be enough either, but Xing are the only known allies that Kouka kingdom has.

There is another “enemy” we know from the previous arc though, who have strong feelings against the Kai Empire, specifically about rulers treating their women badly and they are...

...Ying Kuelbo and the Tully tribe.

The big difference between Xing Kingdom and the Tully tribe is that Suwon never met or dealt directly with Kuelbo the way he did with Kouren and Tao. The Tully tribe lost and Kuelbo ran away, betrayed and having to find a new way to take on the Kai Empire. That’s why I think the Tully tribe would eventually make for a good ally in this war: it showed good promises when Yuran and Yona got along and I think Yona understood where Kuelbo was coming from, especially now that Mei is with them and can probably tell them in details about Chagol.

Not saying this will happen soon, but since there is someone who met and fought against Kuelbo, probably gaining his respect, if this person was to seek the Tully tribe to make them Kouka Kingdom’s ally on Yona’s guidance, I think Kuelbo would give it a thought. That’s right, I’m talking about Hak, who’s currently on his way with Yoon to the Earth Tribe to fetch a drug that will not be able to save neither Suwon nor Mei, thanks Zeno for spoiling us.

That’s what I meant when I said that Hak slowly became one of my favorite characters throughout the story. While the Sky Tribe seems to be taking bets on who between Yona and Suwon will eventually sit for good on that throne, there is a good chance that Hak will be one of the key players when it comes to winning that war against South Kai. Not that we should expect any less from the Thunder Beast. <3

To be very honest though, I expected this arc to be very tough for his character, because the truth behind Il’s death and Suwon’s coup would never be easily understandable to him (Yona’s own words, not mine):

Yet, surprisingly he was able to at least listen and, no matter if he will ever understand Suwon’s choice or not, he decided to trust in Yona’s decision to back Suwon in the rising political issues.

In general, I love how Hak is the least bound by the past before Suwon’s coup. He did respect Il as his king, but he did not protect Yona in the beginning for anyone else’s sake but her own. Just like Kashi once asked him to always protect Yona (which is sweet since she could see the future) but, considering he never even thought about her words once in the story, it’s likely he doesn’t remember that at all, making the choice to be by Yona’s side defined as solely his own.

It’s this strength of his that eventually led him to say recently that he would go fetch that drug with Yoon, knowing that it was for Suwon’s sake (surprising Suwon himself), just like he will definitely fight for Kouka Kingdom, not because Yona wants him to but because it’s clearly his own desire (see ch211 where he let Yun go alone so that he could help the Earth Tribe fight):

All that makes Hak the wildest card of every agency in the plot, not simply because he’s strong and reliable and the biggest worry of the Sky Tribe, but because...

...Yona and the four dragons will never give him up.

Through Hak, Yona will be able to assert her political weight and he will be there for her, like he always was, making it impossible for their little group to lose. What a power move, I love it.

I think I should stop there because I already rambled so much. Looking forward to the rest of the arc, it’s going to be a wild ride!!

#akatsuki no yona #hak #yona #suwon #yuhon #king il #yonhi #kashi #any theory #as of:#any211 #my analysis

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yarichin-imagines · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! okokok, how bout a s/o who has a kind of quirk (just like bnha!), how do you think they would react? Like, I think they'd probably integrate into something related to sex or develop a kink (? LMAO

y'all i am so into bnha you have no idea!! also, for neutrality purposes, i'll be using the quirks of deku, todoroki, bakugou, uraraka, kirishima, denki, sero, iida, and satou, all from class 1A, mostly just because none of their quirks rely on physical appearances!!

tw: impact, dubcon (drugging, somno), dummification if you squint

Toono – S/O's Quirk: One for All – This Quirk is a union of two different Quirks, one that stockpiles power and one that passes itself on to another. The user can momentarily gain strength and speed far greater than any other Quirk and hero.

thankfully by the time he'd met you, you'd mastered the use of your Quirk

you were never the prance about type to flash around your power anyway

you preferred to use it for more mundane tasks – like opening pickle jars and carrying the groceries into the house in one trip

he found out about it on accident

he was on his way out when he caught you in the parking lot coming in––

with your car in hand, two feet off the ground

you'd dropped your fob somewhere underneath it and couldn't see

toono passed out

when he came to, his first questions revolved around whether or not the car was okay

once he wraps his head around it though..

he's way more into it than he tells you

but it also fuckin terrifies him

so much so that he really doesn't want you to use it on him

definitely has watched you use it so intently that he can nut off to it later

maybe one day he'll pluck up and ask you to activate it for some pictures he can keep

Kashima - S/O's Quirk: Half-Cold, Half-Hot – This Quirk splits the user into two, half of the user's body can emit ice, the other half emits fire.

honesty is a pillar to kashima's relationship

your quirk came to light a month or so into seeing him

and at first, he was mostly excited about the health benefits

he decides then and there that you gotta do him a solid and chill his side of the bed

that way he can keep cool when he sleeps

sometimes

even if he's half asleep

he'll grab your right hand with a lil soft tug

and in your drowsy stupor you chill his pillow so there's no need for a flip

makes him grin like an idiot every time

when he comes home from practice or from the gym he has you freeze and unfreeze the bathwater-- saves you guys a whole lot of ice

he doesn't mind letting you ease his muscles with your left side after all the heats works wonders that would make any rice pack green with envy

as a top, kashima's got complete control in the bedroom

all day, he'll ask you to close your eyes and heat something up, maybe it's a vibrator or a dildo

or when you chill something, they're usually beads or a plug

all for him to torment you with later on that night

Yacchan – S/O's Quirk: Explosion – This Quirk allows the user to sweat a substance similar to Nitroglycerin from the user's palms and ignite it to create explosions.

kyosuke recognizes it's too dangerous to use in the bedroom

but that being said, there's plenty of other stuff around the place to let you show off

your firework shows are always the best on the block

especially when he sets some off right when yuu isn't expecting it

mainly, yacchan appreciates your quirk when it comes to pulling pranks

It's really funny when you're popping ziploc bags full of nothing right outside tamura's dorm when he's trying to power nap before exams

and even funnier when he storms out in just tighty whities to yell at you

only to meet the flash of yacchan's cellphone

toono will fall asleep during study sessions sometimes and yacchan will facetime you so you can let out a boom and wake him up

he will most definitely fall off the bed and yacchan will most definitely record it

the two of you are the best of the worst that way

Shikatani – S/O's Quirk: Zero Gravity – This Quirk allows the user to cause people and items to float on contact. There is a weight limit on how much the user can levitate, and if this Quirk is used to much, it will cause the user to get sick.

it's really helpful when you help him deep clean

after all, if the supplies are gracefully floating behind him, that leaves his hands free to do twice the work, saving him half the time

but you're content to watch the beautiful boy work

if you help him clean like that, he won't ask for much more that day

he is very very conscious of how much you use your quirk

because he cares about you too much to let you get sick

since he knows for a fact that because of his ocd he won't be able to take care of you

and that stings

so on the days where the chores have all been done he gets the honor of experiencing the effects of your quirk in bed

he likes how it feels when your tease him from the air above

your throat feels more open

but it's not like he can do too much about it since the instant he gets too eager you always float just out of reach

sometimes if he's behaved very well, you'll suspend him

the headrush he gets is euphoric

but the best is how good you are when you blow out his back with your strap

after all, without gravity, your stroke game is literally out of this world

Akemi – S/O's Quirk: Hardening – This Quirk allows the user to harden any part of their body. This shell can withstand several tons of metal falling on the user, along with shock waves, explosions, etc.

there's nothing cuter to akemi keiichi than a brat

if you want to misbehave?

by all means

go right ahead

he'll leave it to you to exhaust yourself

that's the first time he saw you use it

he wasn't aiming to cause any major damage, he was only spanking you with his hand

but he'd been at it for almost an hour

then suddenly he'd pushed you off him after he'd slapped what felt like a solid rock

not that it could stop him

his eyes only grew darker

from then on out, it was all a game to see how far he could push before the shell wore down and you gave into him

Itome – S/O's Quirk: Electrification – This Quirk allows the user to discharge electricity out of the user's body. It goes out in all directions around the user, and can be used to even charge objects, such as batteries. There is a limit to how much this Quirk can be used, and if used too much, the user will short circuit their own brain, and won't be able to do anything for an hour.

of course you can charge his phone in a pinch when it dies at the worst possible moment

hotwire his car when he's already running late

restart the fusebox when there's a power outage

after hours, itome's not a hard dom

not in the slightest

but every once in awhile, he can be particularly malicious

like when he has you overcharge your vibrators to give him the liberty of overstimulating you for longer

really it's less about the scene and more about what comes after

due to the limits of your quirk, aftercare is all on him

that's what he likes the most

taking care of you completely

being able to coax you through your braindead state

clean you off and pose you all comfortable

you're all the sweeter when you come to, when you come back to him

Yuri – S/O's Quirk: Tape – This Quirk allows the user to shoot extremely strong tape from openings on the user's elbows.

the tape is good for fixing most messes yuri gets himself into, clumsy fuck

also waxing!

of course he's gonna be into it

he loves the sting it leaves when you pull it off him the most

and he feels it all over again when there's red rectangular patches all across his skin the next morning

though the gluey part is a bit of a pain to wash off

sometimes he'll leave it for him to pick at throughout the day -- that way he'll get the shivers, makes him hot all over again!

he literally cannot get enough

when you do your school work or anything that diverts your attention from him, he'll be tugging at your elbow

this way you can restrain him until you're ready to ahem

put him to use

you can also use your tape to toss him around, floor to bed to floor to wherever

sometimes you even tape up his face, cover his mouth until the drool renders the tape into a thin flimsy strip

you tie his hands tighter and tighter every time, and it never breaks him

he loves it

on the other hand, yuri can be quite the slippery fuck

for emergencies, you've got some of your tape stored away

you've woken up more than once hogtied, your quirk turned against you

like it or not, yuri can easily turn the tables and you're almost never expecting it

you might have an unlimited supply, but he's too quick for your own good

Tamura – S/O's Quirk: Engine – This Quirk gives the user incredible speed by engine-like protrusions in the user's calves. The engines are fueled by orange juice, and carbonated drinks will mess the engines up.

he calls a 40 meter dash every single weekend

he sets his treadmill to train for it the whole week

but he never beats you

and it seriously pisses him off

you're always faster, no matter the game

if anything, it motivates him

he'll take the bruised ego if it helps him get into better shape

the fact that sometimes, you let him win makes his "engines" overheat faster than you can blink

he'll chase you and chase you for hours

fueled on adrenaline and testosterone, there's no way he'll tap out before you

expect a long, hard bite once he catches you

he goes absolutely animalistic

that lilt in his voice when he finally gets to sink his teeth into your shoulder, even if it's through a shirt, that doesn't matter to him

"caught you"

Jimmy – S/O's Quirk: Sugar Rush – This Quirk allows the user to become stronger and faster every 10 grams of sugar they eat for three minutes. The more the user uses this Quirk, the dumber they get.

every time he catches you snacking on a chocolate bar his whole brain turns off

he's practically jumping, the way he bounces around

waiting for you to inevitably choke slam him against the nearest surface

wall, couch, bed, anything

he likes it when you just toss him over your shoulder

even more the way your hits are harder than usual

he antagonizes you on purpose

making sure to stuff a grocery cart full of sweets he knows you like so that he can catch you snacking and make him pay through the nose

he always asks so nicely

but when you won't give in, well that just won't do!

doses your miso with sugar, drops in three extra cubes in your milk tea, encourages extra flan for dessert

for the next three minutes, you're nearly tripping over yourself

everything is lighter

and then when the crash hits---

jimmy can finally take what he wants

and karma is quite the bitch

#admin yari #bnha au #ybc #yarichin b club

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terzos-edibles · 3 years

Text

Silver Linings

4. High Tide, Low Tide

Previous: Hello Bluebird, Hello Robin Summary: Din doesn't feel great. He has been shot and bitten. His ego is bruised. But he can't lay in bed - something is coming, and he needs to get both himself and the doctor out of there. Words: 1.8k Rated mature: stormtrooper violence, lots of violence, burning of a village, language, minor character death, Din is a grumpy Gus.

“Headed up, down the river Oh, Lord, I feel the reveling I feel a change on the rise.” - Change On The Rise, Avi Kaplan

Laasko Village -

Din didn’t know how long he had been asleep. When he finally cracked his eyes open, and he realized he was in a far comfier bed than his own on his ship. He grunted and sat up, taking a peek outside the window to gather his surroundings.

The usual clouds that hung heavy in the sky had made way for an unusually clear night. Ibaar’s two moons hung in the sky, casting moonlight over the village. Even from his small window, Din could see the brightness of the galaxy splashed across the sky like someone had spilled a bucket of stars.

Two things caught his attention as he shifted his gaze back away from the window. One - he really had to take a piss, and two - he was starving, and his stomach let him know about it. He eyed the cold soup, knowing that it would be better than nothing, and he had had worse before. Still, he didn’t want to drink it on a very full bladder. He stood up, reaching out to grasp anything in reach. The back of his thigh was on fire, and he had to stifle an involuntary grunt of pain as he put weight on it. The numbing had long since worn off. He took a ginger step forward. Alright. He could do this.

Slowly but surely, he made his way to the bathroom. The first stop was peeing - he pressed his hand against the bathroom wall behind the toilet to steady himself. The next order of business was washing his hands and face. He reached up, pulling his helmet off, and set it on the edge of the sink. He flipped the water on, washing his hands and leaning down to splash water on his face. Glancing up in the mirror, he felt like he looked - like a mudhorn had charged him down again. Dark circles rested under his eyes, and it had been a few days since he had been able to trim his beard. He took a paper towel from the dispenser next to him and patted his face dry, trying to avoid the man staring back at him the best he could.

The man that stared back at him was haunted.

He grabbed his helmet, moving a little too quickly out of the bathroom, grunting as he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. He took a few more ginger steps and sat back down on his bed, eyeing the soup. He picked up the bowl, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip.

Nope.

The cold broth nearly made him gag. Instead, he set the bowl down, picked up the hunk of bread, and ripped off a piece with his teeth. After chasing it with the glass of water, he put on his helmet and settled back into bed, his body tired from the trip.

——-

A loud crash of thunder startled Din awake. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. The clear night had given way, once again, to Ibaar’s ever-persistent thunderstorms. Lightning flashed as rain pelted the window, and he settled back into bed.

Another roll of thunder and a flash of lighting.

Except that wasn’t thunder, and the lighting grew brighter - burning orange.

It was an attack on the village.

Din moved, more on instinct than anything else. His armor and the rest of his clothes had been neatly stacked on a nearby chair, his amban rifle and beskar spear leaning up against the wall. His leg was screaming, and his side was protesting every move he made. Just like a thousand times before, he got his clothes and armor on in what felt like record time.

He moved to the door of his room, his amban rifle ready in case there had already been a breach. With his luck, the door would be locked, that had been par for the course since he had gotten to this fucking village, and - the door slid open.

“Huh,” came his reply as he slipped out of the room. There was another explosion followed by screaming, all too close for comfort.

Din made his way into the clinic, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t know why he was thankful the doctor hadn’t chosen to go home that night and instead fell asleep at her workstation. Her head resting on her arms, her lab coat was draped over the back of her chair. She had a bag resting by her feet - it looked as though she had been on her way out but got caught up by something.

Another explosion came, this time shaking the clinic. Bacta sloshed in the tanks. Blaster fire could be heard right outside.

He looked back at the doctor, surprised and a little annoyed that she was still asleep. He moved to her, his hand going to her shoulder as he attempted to shake her awake.

Maker, this woman could sleep through anything.

Finally, after a rather forceful shake, she lifted her head, blinking as she looked up at him - confusion written all over her face.

“We need to go,” he told her, watching as she processed what was going on.

Shit, what was her name?

Finally, after a long second, it seemed to click for her, and she was grabbing her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders.

“We can’t go out through the front,” he said, his voice low. There seemed to be a lull in both the thunder and the violence outside, and an eerie calm had overtaken the clinic.

She nodded. “The clinic is set into the mountain,” she replied, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “There really isn’t a back-“

The doctor was cut off by a loud banging, and a roar of flames lit up the clinic’s lobby. Din grabbed her upper arm, pulling her behind one of the storage cabinets. He reached down, pulling a slug from the holster on his boot. He loaded it into his rifle after pulling it back from around his shoulder. He loaded it up, priming it. They would need to go out through the front, which meant he would need to clear a path. He pulled another slug from his boot, handing it back to the doctor. “Hold this for me.” He whispered, and she closed her fingers over it. There was a pause and then the distinct mechanical shuffling of a droid.

“Who is knocking at this hour!” A9 called, clearly oblivious to the danger outside. Maker, he hated droids.

He could hear the doctor make a small noise from behind him, reaching out as though to try and use the force to stop him like Grogu trying to pull the ball from Din’s hand.

Before either of them could stop the droid, the door slid open and a stormtrooper followed by an incinerator trooper barreled into him. A9 fell back with a loud clang! And the stormtrooper pointed his blaster at A9’s head, pulling the trigger. The doctor made an involuntary yelp, instantly covering her hand with her mouth. The troopers turned, one looking at the other.

“Search for the doctor, kill anyone else. Then let’s torch this place,” he ordered the incinerator trooper.

Din charged his amban, immediately taking the shot. The slug hit the trooper in the chest, and despite the plastoid, the trooper’s body flipped once in the air before exploding into ash. He reached behind him, and the doctor handed him the slug he had passed her. He loaded it, and in one fluid motion, he had it in his rifle and fired it just as the incinerator trooper raised the nozzle on his flame thrower. The trooper exploded just as the one before had.

“Follow me,” Din ordered, slinging his rifle back over his back and pulling his beskar spear over his shoulder.

The pair made their way out of the clinic, and he saw the doctor stop out of the corner of his eye. The woman was staring, slack-jawed as she watched two troopers throw the doctor’s assistant onto a pile of bodies - silhouetted by the flames of the fire.

The sun was rising now, casting a pink hue over the sky - marred by smoke and flame of the burning village below. While the clinic may have been carved into the mountain, other homes around them were made with typical materials - and they were starting to come down. They needed to move. Now.

“Come on, doctor, if we want to live, we have to go,” Din said as he took the woman’s wrist and tugged her along.

She gaped at him for a moment, most likely trying to process what he had said. “We don’t have time. Come on,” he said, wondering just how many times he would have to tell her to get with it. He understood that she was most likely in shock. An attack on a village and seeing people important to you was startling. He didn’t want to diminish what she was feeling, but if they held out any longer, both of them would be dead. And as she put it, she did a good job on his sutures. He didn’t want them to burn up in a fiery inferno.

They needed to get to a speeder to get back to the docking bay; without one, the trip would be long and dangerous. The Empire would be patrolling more heavily now for people who fled in the chaos, and they wouldn’t stand a chance against TIE fighters on strafing runs.

They continued to run, the flames lifting higher and the explosions fading as they made their way out of the village. Once or twice they had to dodge out of the way of a collapsing building. Any troopers they met on their way got to know a beskar spear very intimately. The doctor tripped over a piece of fallen rubble, her shins, and palms a bloody mess, as he grabbed her upper arm and drug her to her feet.

Eventually, Din found the speeder he had been looking for - an old, faded brown X-37 land speeder. He threw his spear into the passenger seat and settled down into the driver’s seat. Satisfied the doctor was in the back seat, he flipped on the ignition, praying to the maker that it actually had fuel in it.

After a beat, it powered on.

“We need to go,” he heard the doctor behind him say, her voice breaking. He turned in his seat, eyes going wide behind his helmet. A transport was dropping an AT-ST into the middle of the village. There was no hope left for these villagers. They and their marshal were reaping what they sowed, and he found it hard to be sympathetic even though he was hired to poke the proverbial hornet’s nest.

“Hold on.” ** Chapter 5: In A World Upside Down Taglist: @novemberrain221, @blackdogdesignuk, @mistyfur5, @thepoisonofgod, @kesskirata, @hayley-the-comet, @absurdthirst @lellowberry

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cakelanguage · 4 years

Text

A very self-indulgent fluffy piece for RiVer. I just want these two to have a happy ending so I’m giving it to them! I hope you like this :)

You can also read this on AO3

It wasn’t even noon when V got a ping on her Agent from River. A small smile graced her face despite being in the middle of taking out another gonk for Wakako. The gig wasn’t hard - a simple in-and-out retrieval of some intel that’d fallen into the wrong hands, but even simple jobs sometimes involved taken out a guy or two. This one was harmless, not even worth the street cred it might get her for taking him out so she simply knocked him out and stuffed him in one of the bins conveniently posted outside the room.

Really it was like they were asking for people to just dump bodies in them. Actually, that was probably exactly what they wanted to happen. Fewer cleanups for the police to have to deal with and all.

Pocketing the shard that’d been on the desk, she pulled up River’s text.

Hey babe, you busy?

She grinned and quickly sent a negative to him. She barely found time to hang out with River, what with all the Arasaka and Johnny bullshit she’d been dealing with the past few months. Now that she wasn’t in imminent death from the Relic she honestly just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend. Fuck if she wasn’t going to take advantage of River and her not being busy.

You available to call?

For you? Always. xoxo

She could almost hear Johnny groaning at her being mushy. She felt a pang of loss as she thought about the rockerboy and placed a kiss on her fist before she raised it to the sky. She hoped Johnny was out there somewhere giving the corpos hell from the deepest levels of cyberspace.

The call popped up and she quickly answered as she walked toward the drop-off point.

“Hey River,” V chirped, quickly taking in his appearance in the little window in the upper corner of her vision.

“V, hey yourself,” River said, a lop-sided grin settling easily on his face. “How’ve you been?”

She hummed noncommittally. “Can’t complain too much, definitely been missing morning cuddles though.” And perfect cups of coffee. And the polarity of temperatures between River’s cybernetic hand and the warmth of his skin. And kisses.

She felt needy, missing him so much and all the little things he did. But maybe needy wasn't so bad.

“I’ve missed them too.”

“Think we can change that then?”

“Yeah, case is closed and I’ll be back by this evening.”

If V could’ve purred with delight she would have. “Mm, I’m a lucky girl.”

River laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide her pleased grin. “As much as I’d love to just talk about how lucky we are to have each other, something tells me this isn’t strictly a pleasure call.”

Her boyfriend gave her an abashed smile. “You caught me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well go on, let’s hear it,” V teased. “What do you need? A contact? A lead? Someone, to do some super sleuthing?”

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s uh- it’s actually kind of a favor for me and Joss.”

Since she’d met River she’d steadily been getting closer and closer with Joss. It was nice to have another girlfriend, though with Judy and Panam, not to mention Misty and Rogue (if she could count Rogue), she wasn’t exactly lacking in them.

But Joss was different. She was a single mom who busted her ass to provide for her family. It reminded her starkly of her older sister back when the Bakkers were still around. And though Joss sometimes brought up painful memories for her, she loved the woman.

“I don’t mind helping you two out,” V reassured, finally dropping off the shard. She’d get the eddies within the next half hour and if need be she could split her earnings to give to the family. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”

A husky chuckle echoes over the coms. "Anything, huh?"

"I helped take down one of the leading corpos in the world with an engram of a rockstar slowly taking over my brain - I'm open to just about anything at this point."

"Fair enough." River let out a breath of air. "Joss asked me if I'd meet her this afternoon at Heywood General Hospital to pick up Randy."

V's eyes widened. "He's been cleared for release?" She hadn't thought Randy would be released for another few weeks. It'd been touch-and-go at the beginning and although he'd come a long way since the farm, he still had plenty of recovering to do.

"Yeah, I was shocked too, but I've been visiting him and he's doing a lot better than he was."

Anything would've been better than the drug-induced catatonia that he'd been in when River and V had found him in that barn. She was still haunted by the half-lidded eyes and slack jaw that had been behind that plastic mask. "That's great," her shoulders relaxed from their previous position, "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Me too, and Joss is happy she gets to bring him home."

"He gonna be in his trailer again?"

River made a noncommittal noise. "That's up to him really. We don't know how he'll feel about being alone now but we've decided to let Randy feel his way through this one."

Made the most sense to V. "Alright so you and Joss are going to pick up Randy and you want me too…?" V asked, shifting their conversation back to the favor River and Joss wanted.

"Oh uh right yeah," River scratched the back of his neck. V wanted nothing more than to ease the man's nerves about whatever he was going to ask. "Since Joss and I are going to be getting Randy, we need someone to watch Dorian and Monique." He didn't pause to let her get a word in edgewise. "Usually one of the neighbors can watch them but most of them are busy and then I might've suggested that we could ask you." He scratched at his cheek and shifted his gaze to the side. "You can say of course, but I figured-"

"Babysitting the little rugrats?" V asked with a grin, interrupting her boyfriend's spiel. "You trust me to watch 'em?"

"V," River had that tone to his voice that was part scolding and part fond, "you're their 'Auntie V,' they'll be cheering when they find out you're watching them."

"I don't know, you did joke that I was the one who needed a babysitter."

He snorted and raised a meaningful brow. "And sometimes you do, but I have total faith in you on this. As does Joss."

"Well I guess I can trust Joss' judgment," V teased. "I can be there in twenty."

River's shoulders sagged at her acceptance. "Thanks, babe."

That mushy feeling returned with vengeance and V was sure she had some stupid look on her face. “Want me to make something for dinner?”

Her boyfriend whistled. “Got myself a lady who can kick ass and offer to make dinner.”

“Riv, come on,” she rolled her eyes trying to appear stern, “Dinner a yes or no?”

“Dinner would be great, to be honest. Joss and I were planning on picking something up on the way home.”

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Uh-uh, nope, no way am I letting Randy’s first meal out of the hospital to be some fast food soy protein that’s no much better than the shit you can get with a kibble card.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat that crap before,” River argued, though he looked more amused than anything.

“Details, details,” V waved a dismissive hand, “Randy have any food restrictions or favorite foods?”

Food had been a big part of V’s life growing up with the Bakker’s. Food didn’t just mean fueling the body, but feeding the soul. Her mother had once told her that a good meal could heal the body just as well as medicine. Looking back, V knew her mother had been exaggerating but she’d taken the statement to heart because a good meal showed someone you cared for their wellbeing.

Her boyfriend pondered her question as she pinged Jackie’s bike to meet her so she could leave.

“Well, he liked my jambalaya when I snuck some in for him to try last week.”

“Hot or mild?”

“Believe it or not, spicy.” His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “Told me it was the first thing he’d been able to taste since everything went down.”

“Then it’s good he got to taste something delicious,” V said.

River’s smile lost that edge and regained the softness he only showed when he was talking about his family or V herself. “Feel free to keep stroking my ego.”

V shook her head with a snort. “Maybe later,” she offered while mentally going through the repertoire of recipes she still remembered. Something spicy, strong flavors that the whole family would like. “Think he’d eat gumbo?”

“Gumbo?”

“Yeah, learned to make it back when my family was still together...”

She remembered the crowded prep stations, her underfoot as she helped as much as she could under her mother and sister’s tutelage. She remembered her uncle sneaking bits from the cutting boards and popping them in his mouth, sending her a wink and an exaggerated shushing motion to not say anything.

River didn’t interrupt her musing, instead, he waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. He understood that if he interrupted V she wouldn’t finish talking about her past.

“Mealtime was one of the few times we all tried to be together and pause from our other duties,” V explained. “We made all kinds of stuff depending on who was in charge of dinner, but I know gumbo was my favorite and it’s similar to jambalaya.”

“A family recipe and your favorite, huh?” River commented, “I look forward to trying it.”

It didn’t matter that V hadn’t made gumbo in two years. She wanted to do something for her new family. "It’ll probably take me a little longer to get home since I’ll stop and get them on the way.” She revved the engine and patted the side of the bike. “See you, River, tell Randy we'll be waiting for him at home."

The silence stretched over the line and V had to make sure her Agent hadn't malfunctioned and dropped the call. But River was still connected, just stared at her with this shocked look. "You okay?" V asked.

Her question shook River from his stupor and he gave her a besotted look. "Yeah I'm fine," he reassured, "see you at home after Joss and I pick up Randy."

"Preem."

She snagged the veggies from an Aldaecado who sold some of their crops at the Sunset Motel and picked up some synthetic meat that didn’t look too bad and set course for the trailer park. The ride was as peaceful as ever and V cranked Jackie's bike to the max speed down the straightaways, shaving off five minutes from her ride. The Badlands were some of the best places to go full-throttle without having to worry about a bunch of traffic.

Joss stood on the porch while Monique and Dorian listened to whatever she told them, playfully jostling each other as much as they could get away with. As soon as they spotted V though, they dashed towards her with the exuberance that was only ever found in children. V knelt down with a laugh and opened her arms in invitation.

"Auntie V!" Monique cheered, reaching her first and throwing herself into V's waiting arms, scooping the little girl up into a full-body embrace.

V had quickly discovered how much the two kids liked their hugs and who was V to deny them that?

Dorian quickly followed, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Mom told us you're gonna watch us while she and Uncle River bring Randy home," Dorian said. "Which means we can play together again!"

V laughed and shifted Monique to her hip so she could ruffle Dorian's hair. "Only if you're willing to take this rookie under your wings," V said.

The two giggled and reassured her that they'd show her the ropes, both puffing up with pride.

She managed to slowly walk towards Joss with the two limpets clinging to her laughing and cheering. She saw the poorly hidden laughter that Joss was trying to cover up as just a smile. V was glad she could make the crow’s feet on the women's face crinkle instead of deepening the worry lines that were far too prominent on her friend's face.

“Hey Joss,” V greeted, shifting Monique enough so that she could pull Joss into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Hey, V,” Joss replied, pulling out of the hug. “Thank you so much for being willing to watch the kids.”

“Willing? I’m more than happy to watch them, you know that.”

V and the kids got along like a house fire and she cherished all the little games they’d play together. It gave V an excuse to check-out of adult stuff and focus on entertaining River’s niece and nephew. It had done wonders for her mental health.

Joss smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Monique’s ear. “Still, I know it’s last minute. Neither River nor I were expecting them to give Randy the okay to leave the hospital.”

“And Randy’s probably been chomping at the bit to leave that place, right?”

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “If he could’ve, I’m sure he would’ve broken out of there after the first five days.”

“A boy after my own heart.”

Despite going to a number of ripperdocs, regular hospitals, and trauma centers left her nervous and itching to leave ASAP. River practically had to drag her to the hospital just to get a full brain scan after the Relic incident.

Joss rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most. Pretty sure it’ll mostly be paperwork and finding out any home care we need to know about for Randy’s recovery.”

As usual, Joss was fairly matter-of-fact about the whole thing but she couldn’t hide her worry. V figured she’d be just as worried if her baby had gone through what Randy had. It didn’t help that her relationship with her son had been strained before and no matter how much they’d talked since the incident there was still the unknown of how their relationship would go once he was home again.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” V said, setting down the girl in her arms.

Monique tugged at Dorian’s shirt and the two were off chasing after each other.

Joss remained silent but her shoulders relaxed some. Finally, she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “If the kids get hungry-”

“Feed ‘em something that won’t give them a sugar rush,” V dutifully replied. “I know, Joss don’t worry, I can handle these two just fine.”

Joss sighed. “I know you can, but a mother can’t help but worry,” she managed to give V a sly smile. “You’ll understand when you and River have a kid.”

V made a choking noise as her face flushed. “J-Joss, we-we haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

“Hop to it, V,” Joss joked with a clap. “Need you to make an honest man out of my gonk of a brother and I want to be an aunt at some point in the near future.”

It was a nice thought, getting married and starting a family with River. It sounded terribly domestic and kind of wonderful if she was being honest.

But her and River could talk about that later.

Much later.

“Go on, get going,” V shooed, “Randy’s waiting.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about giving me nieces and nephews later,” Joss relented. ‘If you want to get takeout, I have a few menus in the kitchen with Dorian and Monique’s favorites circled.”

“Actually I was gonna make gumbo,” Seeing Joss’ surprise she continued. “It’s a family recipe and I haven’t made it in a while but River said that Randy liked his jambalaya so I figured he’d probably like gumbo too since it also has a strong flavor. But uh if they won’t like it-”

“V,” Joss interrupted with a grin.

“Hm?”

“I really hope River does marry you.”

V blushed and returned her grin. “Yeah me too.”

She’d managed to make the roux for the gumbo while Monique and Dorian were playing tag and now she just had to let the gumbo simmer which meant she was completely free to play. The two were more than ready for her to join them, bouncing around her as she quickly donned the AR set.

The blue tint to ‘Trouble in Heywood’ flooded her vision and she took in the kids’ game personas: Captain Joan McClane and Lieutenant Henry Callahan. It still made her laugh when she saw them, the two rough officers that looked like they were ex-Militech before joining the force. It didn’t help that the backstories they’d given them were so serious.

“Didn’t know if you’d come back, rookie,” Captain Joan, Monique said, her arms crossed and her face stern behind her shades. “Thought what you’d seen when we took down El Chamuco Endiablado was still clinging onto ya’.”

Lieutenant Henry Callahan, Dorian scoffed. “Nah, the two rookies we worked with for the takedown were good, and that’s coming from me,” he argued.

“Sounds like we might’ve grown on you two lone wolves, huh?” V teased, cocking her hip as she checked her gun.

“Don’t get cute with me, rookie,” Captain Joan said.

V raised her hands. “Fine, fine,” she bounced her eyes back and forth between the two. “What’s the situation today?”

“With El Chamuco Endiablado gone, we created a power vacuum and the force is flaggin’ under the pushback,” Captain Joan explained.

“Which is why they’ve called us in,” Lieutenant Henry added, “Regular force just won’t cut it, gotta call in the best of the precinct to take these goons down.”

“We called you in for backup, rookie. All you gotta do is keep up and watch our backs, we can handle the rest.”

“No doubt about that,” V said, “But y’know, I gotta make it home to my partner, promised him I’d make it back.”

“The other rookie?” Lieutenant Henry asked.

“The one and only.”

Captain Joan shook her head and cocked her gun. “Battlefield’s no place for emotion, rookie,” she advised. “We need to dedicate ourselves to taking this filth out.”

V nodded her head and squared her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” she saluted, “Are we ready to start?”

Lieutenant Henry gave her a wild grin. “Those bad guys can’t escape justice.”

They ended up playing three different rounds of ‘Trouble in Heywood,’ each round further expanding the narrative. In the last game, Lieutenant Henry had gone rogue to zero José Luis, a Valentino who’d gotten away with murder because the NCPD “didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.” According to Captain Joan, Lieutenant Henry had been harboring secret feelings for the murder victim and he was out for blood.

Honestly, V wasn’t sure where the kids pulled these plots from, but they were endlessly entertaining.

She looked up from the pot she was stirring and made sure the kids were still sitting at the table she'd sat them at with a snack. It didn't look good to her, but Monique and Dorian cheered at the sight of it so at least they liked it.

She tapped her spoon against the rim of her pot and set it to the side. "What do you two wanna do now?" V asked, taking a seat beside Dorian.

"Mom usually makes us practice our reading and math," Dorian grumbled, his eyebrows scrunching together. "We aren't even going to school yet, it's like lightyears away."

"Lightyears, huh?" V mused, propping her chin against her hand. "That's a pretty long time."

"I know!" Dorian threw his hands up. "She says she wants us to be ready and stuff but it's so boring."

"The worst," Monique agreed. "But maybe since Mom isn't here…" She trailed off and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. "Oh no-"

"Please, V?" Dorian begged.

Then it became a cacophony of pleading words and promises to work harder tomorrow. Taking them on one-at-a-time, but both of them at once? Not even worth considering arguing.

"If I let you skip this lesson time," she started, the kids already whooping beside her. "I said if. "

The two nodded seriously, “We’ll do it,” they promised readily.

V shook her head, squinting at them with a skeptical look. “I haven’t even said what you have to do if you skip your lessons.” Monique and Dorian traded confused looks before turning back to her. “The first rule of any kinda deal,” she held up one finger, “you gotta listen to the whole deal, otherwise you might be signing yourself up for something worse.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Dorian insisted.

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause you’re nice,” Monique said. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not to you guys, but I’ve conned my fair share of gonks.” Their faith in her left a warm feeling in her chest. “Alright, but back to the deal. I let you guys skip, but you guys have to help me make a welcome home sign for Randy.”

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at her, mouths agape. “We’re gonna make a billboard?” They asked.

V bit her lip and shook her head. “Not a billboard, little short on time and really out of our budget.” She rifled through her pockets and pulled out a small device. “Had this bad boy for a while now, usually I use it to pull up my schematics or tweak one of my daemons, but I’ve got an app that’ll just let us create a design we wanna display.” She fiddled with her Agent and turned the phone towards them. “I’ve got the words, but I need two experts to really make it shine, figured you two would be perfect for the job.”

“Really?” Dorian whispered.

“Really really.” She leaned back, her smile relaxed and open. “I can do some graffiti or graphic style stuff, but you guys know Randy best.”

Monique kicked her legs back and forth and stared at the screen with a frown. “Last time we saw Randy, he didn’t want to hang out with us and said we were annoying him,” she mumbled just loud enough for V to hear.

Her heart sunk at the solemn tone of the girl’s voice. That was when Randy had been in Peter Pan’s grasp when he was being gaslighted with promises of understanding and promises of help.

You can tell a kid that their sibling loves them and what they were going through, but it didn’t erase the hurt that kid felt. And they didn’t fully understand.

Even so, reassurance was better than nothing.

“When Randy last talked to you,” V stated, making both kids look at her. “He was going through some tough times.” She picked at her nail as she tried to find the right words. How much did they know about what happened to Randy? “Do you know what happened with Randy?”

Dorian hesitantly shook his head. “We knew he went missing, and Mom said that you and Uncle River found him and brought him back,” he said.

“And he’s been at the hospital because he was hurt when you guys found him,” Monique added.

V nodded her head. “That’s the gist of it,” V admitted. She hesitated before continuing. “Randy thought he had a… friend, but when he went to meet this friend, he turned out to be a bad guy.”

“Like… the bad guys in our game?” Dorian asked.

V fought a grimace. “Worse.” When her statement was met with silence she continued. “Randy was captured and was hurt real bad while he was held captive.”

She’d never get the image of those kids gassed up and comatose, hooked up to those fucking machines out of her head. No matter what she did, she still remembers the frantic way her hands shook as she checked pulses on cool bodies and tugged out crusted IVs from limp arms.

“According to your Uncle River, Randy’s doing much better,” she reassured, trying to assuage some of their unease. “But he’s gonna need you two to help him, even if he’s grumpy and being mean.” She playfully punched her palm. “Sometimes you just gotta break through their defenses and make them understand. Which is why,” V gestured to her Agent, “We’re making him a special welcome sign.”

“And… it’ll help Randy?” Dorian asked.

“Showing him you care and are happy to see him can sometimes be exactly what a person needs.”

Monique and Dorian turned to each other and nodded before turning back to V. “You can count on us!”

V clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear!”

#RiVer #river ward #female v #v x river #river x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #my fic

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

What if (Construction worker/ high school sweetheart AU)

Summary: Life leads Y/N and Grayson in different directions after high school and they meet years later, rehashing the past. But life has its own plans for old lovers who just wanted one another.

Warnings: angst, fluff, death

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N - This was in my drafts for a long time, so if you guys like it and want more, let me know.

* *** * *** *

Two hearts, one valve, pumpin' the blood, we were the flood, we were the body. Two lives, one life, stickin' it out, lettin' you down and makin' it right.

Seasons, they will change, life will make you grow, dreams will make you cry because everything is temporary, everything will slide, our love will never die.

I know that birds fly in different directions, but I hope to see you again.

Sunsets, sunrises, livin' the dream, watchin' the leaves, changin' the seasons. Some nights I think of you, relivin' the past, wishing it'd last, wishing and dreaming.

Imagine Dragons - Birds

* *** * *** *

There are few big moments that make a person. Moments that bear the weight of a thousand suns that claim pieces of your soul. Some are love, a goodbye or a tragedy. For me, it was all three, all at the same time.

I left New Jersey six years ago soon after a tragedy claimed the lives of both my parents. I was only seventeen at the time, still a stupid teenager with a conviction everything my parents say is useless and only there as punishment. We were on our way home from my grandparents, arguing about a party I wanted to attend when a car swerved into our lane and dad had no chance of avoiding it.

I remember every detail of the crash, every single moment in slow motion, including the moment I realized I would be an orphan before darkness took me too.

After that, my life changed irrevocably. The only comfort I had was my high school sweetheart, Grayson Dolan and his big bear hugs I melted into.

We meet very few people who can shake up your world and still keep you steady. Grayson Dolan was all that and more. My heart always felt comfortable and safe in his hands. I believe we all encounter three different loves in our lives – your soulmate, the love of your life and eventually the one you settle for. Some people get to meet only one, some two, while others meet all three.

I don’t know which one of these is Grayson, after all, our story had an abrupt ending.

The funeral came and went. My grandparents moved to our house to take care of me, but I felt suffocated. Every inch of that house represented them and it haunted me. Survival guilt ruined me. The guilt was like gasoline in my guts. My insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. The fire burnt me out so badly there was nothing left but a shell, an outline of a person. Staying in New Jersey would have killed me, I just knew it.

The moment I turned eighteen, I set off to a new beginning.

I begged him to come with me. He begged me to stay. Things were said and that night I had to say goodbye to the only person that anchored me.

Alas, I said goodbye to Grayson Dolan too.

So here I am, six years later in the big city with my very own company. I never self-medicated with alcohol or drugs, rather worked harder to reach my goals. More work you put in, less time you have to think about what hurts you.

And this distance hurt me. Leaving Grayson destroyed me.

I never stopped thinking about what I left behind, about what could have been. But I learned to live with my choices. I had to.

Some people are meant to leave a mark in your life, but they don’t have to stay. No one ever does. People always leave, some willingly and some are forced to, but the end result is the same – you can only ever count on yourself.

"Your meeting at 2 is pushed back. Now you have the time to meet with the construction team that's gonna stand in for Fred." Lily, my assistant informed and I nod, sipping on my tea before rushing out the door. My company deals with architecture, building and interior designing and my usual construction crew bailed in the last minute, forcing me to look for another.

"You also have to meet the new architect. It took me two weeks to find him and we will not cancel!" Lily ordered, making me giggle. “I mean it. He comes highly recommended and his work so far matches your vision so perfectly.”

"I'll do it. Just point me in the right direction." Hands raised in mock surrender, I follow her index finger to the conference room and I nearly gasp at the beautiful man waiting inside.

With my head held high and back straight, I walk into the room, ready to meet this exquisite specimen.

"Sorry for the wait." I start with an apology, immediately offering a hand to shake which he gladly accepts.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the owner and acting CEO of this company." I finish the introduction, noticing the man's smile growing which only accentuates his naturally handsome features.

"Pleasure is all mine." Bowing his head, angling my hand up ever so slightly, he presses his lips to the back of it like a proper gentleman. It’s almost impossible not to swoon over the gesture or the British accent I noted immediately when he spoke.

"Although, I must say I'm disappointed you do not remember me." He feigns hurt, letting my hand go slowly, reluctantly.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wetting my lips and take a second look at the man. “Pardon?”

His dark blonde hair is perfectly curly, long enough for them to form but not to fall to his forehead as it would make it seem unkempt. His large, deep-set blue eyes bore into mine almost as if he’s looking for something he cared for dearly but lost along the way. A spark hiding behind his heavy look reminds me of a flame I once lost myself. The color is different, but the emotion remains the same.

His lips are set in a confident smirk, aware of my hungry, shameless gaze. His lips are rosy instead of pink, small instead of plush. His cheekbones are set high and defined, just as is his sharp jawline that could cut glass like a diamond.

He's tall. Much taller than I am. The broad shoulders give enough definition to his muscles so one can easily conclude he works out, but doesn't kill himself in the gym.

He is the epitome of beauty. Perfection. I can't deny that.

"I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met." I apologize again, wanting to keep this man around. For business purposes.

"It's Troy Lahey. We met when I was just an assistant. I suppose I didn't leave a lasting impression." Quirking an eyebrow, Troy brushes the awkwardness away as he helps me take my seat like a gentleman would.

Grayson used to do that for me as well. Opening the door, taking out the chair, even carrying my bag no matter how pink or flowery it is. A rare quality in men these days. Even after all these years, I compare everyone to Grayson. It’s involuntary, almost like a compulsive need.

"I'll make sure I remember you now." I muss, steering the conversation business wise. It didn't take long for us to reach an agreement as he is an agreeable man, very open minded and open to adventure.

"Have you ever hear about Rosie's?" He stops to ask just as I stand to take my leave. I turn around with lips part, possibly some worry passing my features. No matter how hard I’ve worked on my poker face, I still can’t hide my surprise. I can’t remember the last time a man as attractive like him paid any attention to me. More likely, I can’t remember the last time I paid any attention to a man, any man.

"Please don't tell me they're closing. It's my favorite restaurant." I frown, seeing his face light up as he stands as well.

"Nothing like that. I was just wondering if I could buy you dinner this Friday. Or any day you please?" He proposes and I nearly choke on my saliva. He's handsome. He's intelligent. He's everything I searched for and everything I avoided to find.

My heart is still bleeding. My heart still needs time. Six years isn't enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

"Since we've just agreed to work together on a project, I cannot in good conscience agree to that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to." I say politely, noting his smile grow as if he took my rejection as a challenge and although I'm sure it bruised his ego, he won't just stop. He knows I like him and he seems like a man who fights for what he wants.

"I'm a determined man and I think you know that."

"Arrogant." I challenge, fueling the fire.

"Mhmm...I'd say confident." His charming accent can stop a women's heart and while I'd usually find the persistence annoying, he doesn't annoy me. If anything, he amuses me.

But I walk out the door regardless, waving over my shoulder.

Rushing halfway across town, I manage to get to my second meeting just in time. Still in a frenzy, I walk into the meeting only to find someone I never thought I'd see again.

Dropping my files, I feel my legs wobble as I stumble forward and lose footing.

Strong arms wrap around me, catching me in the nick of time and I open my eyes to find myself in a warm embrace of my first love.

"Grayson?" I breathe out his name, my hand instinctively cupping his cheek like I did all those years ago.

"It's really you." He says slowly, his eyes taking me in like I'm a mirage. His earthly hues glaze over with tears as I swallow my own.

Six years of distance between us. Six years of silence, of thinking what he must be doing and how he’s doing. Six years of picking up the phone to call him just to hear his voice. Six years and now he's here with me, holding me tightly like his life depends on it.

"Hi." I smile, feeling him slowly steady my body, but on the inside I'm fireworks and tsunamis, hurricanes catching on fire.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not meaning to be rude, just curious. Leaning back on the desk as his hold relents, I interlock my fingers to stop my hands from shaking.

Grayson rubs the back of his neck nervously as he always did, shyly looking to his feet first before allowing himself to truly look at me.

He's scanning my body, looking for something that remained the same, something to cling to. I find myself doing the same.

His hair is no longer floppy nor falling in his eyes, making it seem darker, cropped almost. His eyebrows are a little less bushy and I can't help but wonder if he has someone plucking the extra hair like I used to do whenever I managed to overpower him long enough or bribe him with a tasty treat...or myself. His lips are the same plushy pink, perfectly smooth and kissable.

Instead of smooth skin, he bears a stubble, adding age onto his once young looks. His eyes remain the same, the understanding, and kind, gentle soul shining through and he still has the wing shaped earring I bought him. It was a gift for our first month anniversary where I promised I'd be his angel, one to keep him safe as long as the earring remains in its place.

Holding my breath at that realization, I swallow thickly, allowing the need for tears to wither away.

He's grown wider, there are more muscles and definitely more tattoos. I wonder if he had our matching tattoo removed.

“It’s going to be fine.” Grayson speaks slowly, his hands clutching mine as a grin replaces his smirk. “I’ll hold your hand and everything.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I raise an eyebrow. “My parents will kill me. This isn’t even legal, Gray.” Biting my lower lip, I cast my gaze down to his thigh and the unmistakable ink etched into his skin.

“I won’t force you, but I really think it would be cute, ya know? Couple goals and all that? Imagine telling this story to our kids!” The excitement in his eyes is overpowering, entirely enchanting and I’m not sure if he’s even aware of the effect he has on people. His smile, his happiness is positively infectious. He’s incredibly charismatic and charming, turning heads without even trying.

Sighing, I nod. “As long as I get a kiss every time it hurts.”

Pecking my lips, Grayson nods too. “You have yourself a deal, my angel.”

I look at him and still see my Grayson, just a little bigger and stronger, teensy bit older but incredibly beautiful.

Does he still see me as me? Have I changed? Does he find me attractive now? Did I ever even cross his mind?

"I, uh...I was just supposed to deliver some papers. I didn't know I was delivering them to you." He puts his hands on his hips, licking his lips. His gaze wanders, scared to make eye contact.

"Construction crew?" I inquire, unsure what to do when all I want is for him to hold me like we're teenagers again and tell me all he's done or seen since we parted.

"Yeah. Ethan and I started our own little business. This was actually his idea." Grayson frowns, suspecting Ethan had organized this meeting behind his back, but I don't think so. I would have known, would I not?

"It’s really good to see you." He focuses on me once more and my heart jumps. "I missed you." He adds and I know it's over for me. All my what ifs are standing before me, incorporated into one man I had never stopped loving and no matter how hard I fight it, I want to be around him longer.

"And I you. Is it possible for you to stay? Have dinner with me while you're here?" I offer courageously, terrified he might say no.

"I'd love that!" He claps his hands together, a wide smile taking over his face and I see his eyes light up.

Smiling too, I let my heart guide me for the night. If nothing else, I should at the very least have the courage to spend a few more hours with him. After all this time, it will either offer us a second chance or give me closure.

“I have a car waiting for me, it can take us to Rosie’s.” Without thinking, I take his hand only to pause, questioning if it’s alright.

In my moment of doubt, Grayson interlocks our fingers and I let out a relieved sigh. “Rosie’s? Is it your favorite restaurant?”

Giggling, I nod. “Yeah. I always have my faves, but you knew that already.”

Once outside, Grayson steps before me, releasing my hand and just as I’m about to protest, I find he did it so he’d open the car door for me. Fighting the urge to smile, I pray my cheeks aren’t blushing at the gesture, but my eyes are flooded with emotions regardless.

“Are you okay?” Grayson’s hand rests on my hip and I hold my breath, nodding vehemently.

“Yeah, the wind is cold.” I point at my eyes, forcing a smile. “Cold winds are ruthless to my eyes.” Sniffling, I sit inside and send Lily a quick text to get me a seat at Rosie’s. Leaving my phone aside, I tuck my shaky hands under my thighs.

“It’s been so long since I came to New York. I didn’t even know you’re here now.” Grayson moves a little closer, his hand nearly brushing my thigh and I couldn’t help but glance at it every so often.

“I moved back last year. Los Angeles was beautiful and I loved the climate, but New York…It’s the closest to home.” Licking my lips, I shrug. “I guess I needed a change of scenery.”

“Miss, Lily wanted you to know Rosie’s closed for the day, but she made a reservation down in that new restaurant she mentioned. She said you’d know which.” The driver explains and I nod, grateful for the interruption. The last thing I need now is to overwhelm Grayson with all the reasons why I wanted to be in New York.

“That’s fine. Take us there.” Glancing at Grayson, I swallow thickly. His eyes never left me. Though I could sense he wanted to ask me something more, something that would likely bring up the past, Grayson remains quiet for the next few minutes. Luckily the restaurant isn’t far.

“Wait up.” Grayson runs out, circling the car before opening the door, offering his hand.

Reluctant, I look up only to meet his gaze. He’s uneasy, just as I am. So, I place my hand in his and let him help me out.

Sitting, ordering, it all happened so quickly, clouded with awkward silence neither of us could break. But he does. After all, he was always the outgoing one, speaking his mind with no restrain.

“Why didn’t you come back?” The uncertainty in his voice grips me as does my guilt, my heart sinking. “I always thought you’d come back after you finished college and I…I really thought you’d come back to me.”

Rubbing my forehead, I break eye contact. He’s pulling on my heartstrings, each of them breaking as he insists on answers I can’t be sure of.

“I can’t go home. I can’t be there. I don’t feel sane in New Jersey. It’s too much.” I sigh, hating the tears rimming my eyes. “I always thought you’d come after me”, I chuckle with a slight shake of my head. “Every day, for years, I expected you to show up on my doorstep and tell me you never meant to let me go.”

“I’m here now.” Reaching out, Grayson places his hand upon mine and I tense up. I don’t know why.

“But you’ll be gone by tomorrow. You said you’d never leave New Jersey. You said that and I hoped you’d change your mind, but you didn’t.” Cocking my head to the right, I glance at his quivering bottom lip. “Did you?”

“No.” Grayson draws a deep breath before leaning back, taking his hand with him. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know you’d want me to after that night.”

“I can’t breathe here! Everywhere I look, I see them! How can you not understand that?!” My voice is raw from all the shouting, the argument seemingly never-ending.

“Why can’t you stay for me? Am I not important enough? You know my family is here! My twin, my mother and father! My whole damn family, it’s not my fault”, I interject, stopping his thought.

“That I don’t have a family anymore? Is that it? You’re really going that route?” I croak, shaking my head. Running my hands through my hair, I turn away from him.

“You know that’s now what I meant.” Grayson sighs loudly, annoyed. “You’re making me out to be a monster because you need a reason to leave and not look back, but I’m not going to make it easy on you. I won’t.” He steps closer, his presence undeniable. “I will not be a punching bag for you. I love you. I want to marry you some day. I want to have kids with you. But I don’t want to leave my life here. I don’t want to follow you across the country just for you to look at me the way you just did.” Exhaling, his hand rests on my shoulder and I step away, needing my space.

“I’m not pushing you away.” I turn back, wrapping my arms around me. I feel cold, not on the outside but the inside of my body. I’m freezing and I’m burning, just the air here is toxic and I can’t live here. I can’t spend my whole life constantly being reminded of the worst thing that ever happened to me. If I stay, I’ll be trapped in misery.

“It sure as hell feels like it.” Grayson spat and I understand. I understand he doesn’t know how to handle this, because we never had to deal with this before. It’s new and strange and scary and it changed me in ways we can’t still fully smooth over.

“I’m not pushing you away, I’m holding on for dear life!” I choke up, shaking my head as I struggle to inhale. The pressure in my chest is crushing my heart and lungs and I can’t breathe, I can’t think. It’s too much. “I’m asking you to come with me. I’m begging you to, but you won’t.” Wiping my tears I step away from him once again as I notice him reach for me. “You’re giving up on us. You. Not me.”

I walked away that night, left New Jersey the next day as planned.

“Of course I wanted you.” A small smile appears on my lips as I notice his eyes are swimming in unshed tears as well. “I’ve always wanted you.” I add, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I couldn’t stay there. It would have killed me.”

“I could have helped you. I could have been there for you.” Grayson insists, his tone sharp and yet it’s laced with regret.

Does he wish he went with me?

“No one could have helped me back then. The only cure was to leave and I did it to protect my sanity.”

“I could have tried.” Slamming his fist on the table, Grayson stood abruptly, walking toward the exit.

Putting a hundred on the table, I rush after him, my purse in hand. “Wait!” I shout after him, catching him on the street as he tried to hail a cab. “Grayson.” I breathe out, taking his hand in mine.

“Go back to your perfect life, Y/N.” He remarks, hurt written in every line of his tearstained face. He’s crying. Is that why he left?

“It’s not perfect,” I croak. “Not nearly as perfect as it could have been.”

Cupping my left cheek, Grayson’s thumb runs from the corner of my lips to my cheek and back, drawing a gentle smile on my behalf. Leaning down, his forehead rests upon mine, his nose brushing against the tip of mine. His warm breath is tickling my skin, my lips parting and eyes closing in anticipation of his.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispers and I open my eyes. His brown hues are closed, his lips are quivering. Tears are still running down his cheeks.

Letting go of his hand, I cup his face too, breathing heavily. “So kiss me.”

He licks his lips, hesitantly brushing my cold ones. We have feelings that are not visible, we do things to prevent ourselves from being miserable. Being honest is all we have left. Our need to have a taste of the comfort the other one offers is undeniable.

Grayson is the first to end the wait. He kissed me and the world fell away. It’s slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my left cheek as our breaths mingle. Running my fingers down his back, I pull him closer until there is no space left between us and I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest.

It’s perfect. It’s mind-blowing and sensual, forming worlds where we weren’t torn apart six years ago, where we could have made it. There’s no tears in those worlds, no aching desire and longing for one last look.

I never want it to end. But it does. It has to. Everything ends eventually. For us, the end began with a phone ringing.

“Fuck.” He grunts under his breath, looking at me with newfound uncertainty as he picks up his phone, taking a few steps away for privacy.

Wordless, I stand to the side, breathless even now. All I thought I lost before is right before me and it feels like a dream. I’ve been in pieces and with a single kiss, Grayson made me feel whole.

“I, uh, I’m so sorry.” Grayson mumbles, typing something on his phone. “I really have to go. It was really great seeing you again.” He manages a smile as he hails a cab, successfully so.

“Oh.” It’s all I can say, feeling dejected by the sudden change in atmosphere. A part of me expected for him to come home with me, for us to take tomorrow off and stay in bed, talking and making love. I wanted more time. Is it wrong I hoped we’d get back together too?

“I’ll tell Ethan you said hi.” He adds before pecking my cheek. In a moment, he was gone once more.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The moments we spent together kept replaying in my head over and over again and I tried to figure out where I went wrong. Did I do something to make him leave?

Dragging myself out of bed, I arrive at work looking like a hot mess.

“You look like a hot mess.” Lily reminds me and I groan, ignoring her as I enter my office.

“Oh, good morning.” Troy’s chipper tone makes me flinch and I stop, wide-eyed as I realize he’s standing in my office, a cup of coffee in hand and a dazzling smile to go with it.

“I didn’t realize we have a meeting.” I admit, looking around to make sure I didn’t walk into someone else’s office.

“We don’t, but I like to be proactive. I’ve made the initial sketches and left them on your desk.” With a smile as bright as the sun, he passes by me only to stop right next to me. “You look beautiful.”

Glancing his way, all I catch is his back as he leaves me alone in the room. Just me, the coffee he bought me, a stack of papers and…a bouquet?

Wild flowers bring some color to my rather old-fashioned office, breathing some life into the room. I smile, stepping closer only to find a single rose in the center of the bouquet as well as a note. It’s typed, not handwritten and there’s no signature.

“Lily?” I call out for her while opening the note with a hint of a smile adorning my lips.

She appreciated the beauty of a rose, the symbolism. But she never liked roses. No. Her love was always reserved for lilacs, violets and other wild flowers that painted the very essence of her soul.

“Yes?” Lily enters and I turn to her with a wide smile.

“Who sent this?” Was it Grayson? Did he want to tell me something? The words are so beautiful, and just right. I’ve never liked to receive roses, but wild flowers made my heart go crazy. Who else could know this but him?

“I don’t know. I didn’t see them delivered.” Lily frowns, stepping closer. “Must have been delivered when I was in the bathroom or something.” She shrugs, still a little troubled.

“Oh.” I furrow my eyebrows, biting my lower lip.

“Why, what does the note say?” Lily narrows her eyes as I smile. “What’s that smile for?”

“Lily, book me a ticked.” I decide right then and there. My what if’s will no longer dictate my future. Whether these came from Grayson or not, I have to see him again. “I’m going home.”

* *** * *** *

A/N - If you’ve made it this far, let me know if you like it and want more. It’s an old draft I polished a little which is why it’s written in the reader’s POV, something I haven’t done in quite some time.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins

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huntergatherercreator · 4 years

Text

The Takedown | Part Five

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Violence and gun use, mentions of blood, injuries and death but no explicit details.

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Part 5 – 1,510 Words

Easing out from behind my shield I instantly lifted the gun and started firing. The first shots went wild but the sound of returned fire was enough to force them down long enough for me to get a location. Scanning the building at the end of the street all the lights were off. There were no open windows. No movement. Then I caught a glint from the rooftop. Ruse lost, the shooter was taking aim. Hands clammy with sweat I dragged in a breath. I’d shot people before, but never in a situation where I wasn’t wearing my badge. My moral compass screamed this was wrong, even with the large likelihood that this was a rival gang member, someone who was better off the streets. They lined up their sights. I made the shot. Their body slumped backwards out of sight, the gun clattering after them.

Shivers racked my body. My injured arm, exhausted from holding the firing position dropped to my side, the jolt causing a fresh surge of blood to seep down my arm. I struggled to push the pain to the back of my mind. I needed to keep on top of what was happening, I needed to memorise as many details as possible.

Fingers numb I barely felt it when Holland took back his gun, only registering the absence of its weight. Jerking to face him I expected to see it trained on me. Instead he placed it back in his holster and adjusted his suit jacket to cover it. Unreadable eyes met mine for a second before he gripped my good elbow and ushered me back into the club.

The bar went silent as we entered. I automatically glanced towards Zoey who fumbled the glass she was cleaning when she took me in. I wasn’t sure if she was surprised to see me hurt or to see me at all. I was swiftly deposited into the nearest chair at the bar as Holland strode off to gather his men. He’d no doubt update them briefly then give them the order to track down the culprit. The city would be swarming with his men come morning as they tried to flush out anyone who could be responsible. There wouldn’t be a fair trial for the men. It would be a straight execution, guilty or not.

I could feel their heavy stares boring into my back as I reached over the bar to grab the closest bottle of vodka. Zoey made to set down a glass for me. I waved her off and gathered a wad of napkins from the dispenser. I hadn’t properly looked at my wound, and I wasn’t about to start now. I wasn’t generally squeamish but my stomach was already swirling at the knowledge I’d shoot someone, killed someone, to defend Holland. That, mixed with the steady adrenaline crash and slow onset of shock, had me holding back from assessing exactly how much damage I’d taken on my rogue mission. I lined the bottle up with my shoulder and let the alcohol pour down my arm. My eyes instantly swam with tears as the liquid found two distinct points of raw flesh to sear at. Biting the inside of my cheek I swapped to the napkins and applied pressure to areas.

Zoey was hovering, watching me warily.

“How bad is it?” I managed to ask, my voice raspy and thin sounding. She paused clearly working out how to phrase her assessment.

“It exited, so worse than if it’d been lodged,” she advised referring to the bullet. I appreciated her lack of detail. I opened my mouth to ask if she thought it would need medical attention, stopping when the seat next to me was dragged out and occupied. Zoey retreated to the other end of the bar but kept her eye on me.

“I need your complete discretion.” The underlying insinuation that I was someone who needed that instruction annoyed me far more than it should have and I caught myself snipping at Holland.

“Regarding what; saving your life or killing your assailant?” Feeling the napkins start to drip under my fingers I balled them up and reached for a fresh set to apply. When he didn’t respond I titled my head to view him, his attention drawn to where his men were loudly forming a plan. I took him in, perched on the end of the stool. His forearm was lining the bar, fingers tapping without tune, while his other hand fisted against his knee. I didn’t need to see his face to see the impatient flare in his eyes. I knew the stance all too well. He was itching to take action, desperate to get back at whoever had challenged him.

“Given everything I know about your rivals, I’m neither stupid nor suicidal enough to mention anything. To anyone,” I offered. He addressed me then, a crease between his eyebrows.

“Do you really think they don’t already know?” His voice was mocking.

“They wouldn’t if your men had stopped wasting time and retrieved the bodies.” The retort came out sharper than I intended. I’d already bruised his ego once and I knew full well he’d intended to kill Arnold, but there was something about him that made me unable to refuse the bait. Something that made me need to assert myself accompanied by an overwhelming urge to chip away at him and see how far I could push back. I wanted to blame it on what had just happened, the mix of chemical reactions fuzzing my head, but it went deeper than that.

His fingers stilled. “You think you know what you’re talking about don’t you? You think setting up a small operation like this” his lip twisted as he gestured around the room, “suddenly makes you savvy as to how to deal with threats?”

With deliberate slowness I spun in my chair to face him, wound momentarily forgotten.

“One thing you need to learn, in life and in business, is that it’s not what someone is doing. It’s what they’ve done in the past that defines them. Don’t be conceited enough to think that this is my first foray in the seedy underbelly of the world. The only reason I got into your particular area is because it’s the only one I haven’t played a part in yet. As for this” I mimicked his movement, “this is the first bit of initiative I’ve seen anyone take to drive up sales. You’re welcome.”

His nostrils flared, lips thinning as he pressed them together in a hard line.

“My men don’t go behind my back; they follow the agreement and my leadership. That’s what has made this company what it is, not running off half-cocked with ideas of their own. They’re loyal. I get the impression you wouldn’t know anything about that” he spat. He’d risen slightly from his chair, his knees brushing against mine as he got closer. He was trying to intimidate me. It might have worked if it wasn’t for the slight shake to his hands tipping me off that he was letting his frustration fuel him. It was easier to get under his skin than I’d hoped.

“Fear doesn’t equate to loyalty, which is why fear and business don’t mix. So it’s a good thing I’m not scared of you.” I moved forward on the seat, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him. My head flashed back to how the warmth of him had felt in the alley and I shoved it away. He stood suddenly, head only just above mine as he glowered down at me.

“You should be. I’ve done things that would terrify you.” The warning tone to his voice was underpinned by the subtle boasting. It was blatantly clear that he enjoyed playing mob boss. He wasn’t in this for money alone, he enjoyed the power it gave him, the thrill of getting what he wanted when he wanted it and sweeping the repercussions under the rug. He’d shown his cards and now I knew exactly how to deal with him.

“So have I,” I countered. Sliding from the stool my body brushed against his. He stilled, eyes widening for a split second before smoothly covering his surprise with a glare that put credence to the saying “if looks could kill”. He made no move to back away, and neither did I. We were caught in a dance of intimidation, neither of us daring to back down and lose the upper hand.

After an endless minute someone cleared their throat beside us. We both turned as one of Hollands men stood nervously watching our silent fight.

“Uh, sorry Boss, Morgan and I are going to take over protection detail since Lenny…” he trailed off rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, let us know when you’re ready to head off and we’ll scout ahead.” He retreated quickly under Hollands stare.

“Loyalty.” He said simply and without another glance he stalked to the entrance leaving his new guards to rush after him.

----

Taglist: @spideylovin @lukesbabylon @panicattheeverywherekid

Part Six now up!

#mob!tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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goldenswan · 5 years

Text

Diary #2

Sunny morning and enjoyable coffee. Today was quite relaxing. No calls to ring, no big news to be rushed to me, no person in need of training. I've received some new gifts too. The one i am the most grateful is a beautiful set of oil colors. I've played with them during the day working on beautiful sunrise. Such a productive day made have such a good mood that i started preparing for the job a bit earlier this time. The dress for tonight was a long, close-fitting, backless dress made of with a deep blue velvet. Today i hade chosen a diamond necklace as my main accessory.

The bar opened like any other evening. People came and go. Jungwoo sent me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, again, which only meant today is friday. I wish i've could more but i can't apreciate men like him. His effort is something to be admired. But until he will be able to be more upfront with his desire for me it won't work. Come here, show yourself in front of me if you truly want me to see you as a man, do not just hide behind small gifts, like any man i've just worked with. I wish for the time you will actually be able to do it, maybe you might be able to change my heart but curently you're just one of my admirers, nothing more, nothing less.

Anyway, the day still went its own way.

From the people i chitchat with to the ones i've eavesdropped from what i learnt it seems that the new drug which showed up on the blackmarket is actually more dangerous than it looked at the first sight. It spreads like a virus, and big dossages makes people lose sense of themselves for bigger amounts of time, some actually don't recall but there have been some acts of violence because of them. The addiction grows bigger too after each usage. We need a deeper investigation. Our bussinesses might suffer but also win from it, if we play it right. We might need to get the cooking recipe from the source itself. We will need a plan.

The night passed easily this time. No callamities this time. But even if they would have appeared I have a small protector this time. It's actually a cute feeling to have someone here, but still, not healthy at all for him. He doesn't even consume alcohol but he stayed and watched me for the whole night. I do understand the loneliness he has, i had it too. Living in an orphanage will always be harsh on a young mind. I let him sleep at my place from time to time, when he wants to talk, having my couch free, but still, he has his dorm room and friends of his age now. It was cute in the past but he shouldn't always just come to me. I don't want to break him. I feel flattered by him but still that's not how he should live. He's at the age where he should hang out more with his teammates, train with them and prepare for anything that might appear, maybe it's my fault for babying him too much when he first joined. Sorry Jisung, I need to be more cold and push you for a bit. It will hurt but it has to be done, towards many people around me, i can let only one person to rely on me, even with him i have doubts. But... how many times have i already wrote this but didn't actually put it into action. I've became too soft. I wonder, how much my past self would laugh seeing me like this. I can already hear the inflexions in her voice while calling me weak. In my voice, i am still her and she is me, i need to stop from putting boundaries to myself. But... It's still sad.

In the past I proclaimed myself as a man-eater, a cold woman who would stomp on any men that would show in my way, trying to lead me, fools that have been played. Now i desire more and more to belong in the heart of somebody, to truly be loved and love him too. Who is the fool now? Maybe i played myself or maybe this was always in my heart but only now i finnaly see it and admit it.

After all, look at you, the one who in the past woudn't even give a second chance of a man to talk to her now just as easily prepares the glass of wiskey to a man even before he reaches the club, even when you know it well he might not show up, again, just to jug it yourself when you have to close.

Open relationships are strange, i loved them in the past. They were the part that build my freedom mentality, but now i feel getting myself tangled with feellings that would only boast somebody's greed and ego. Getting all the attention i want, no need to actually give it back without a price or having any responsibility on anyone's feellings, flirting easily, getting any gift i wish just by pointing to it, thrill to step on a man heart, crushing him, only to give him a drop of hope after it, feeding the hungry eyes with my love but only by my rules, having a new expensive dress each night, i was living for these in the past. Now? I'm not sure anymore if this lifestyle.

Maybe i got old or got out of shape that i don't enjoy it as before, the wiskey glasses seems too get more sweeter too each time i drink another one of his, or maybe it's cause i use his glass, a small indirect kiss. How funny, only a teen would feel so naive at heart to dream like that, but this is my first time actually experiencing, ironic. Each piece of ice melts one day, maybe yours too will happen at the right time with the right person.

Ah, the right time, when I close my eyes and just let the memomries play again and again in my head. Him coming to the bar. The hard day being seen in his tired eyes, making me want to hug him and take all that heaviness away. His hand going up to loose his tie while he takes the glass that was already waiting him with the other free hand. A small smirk taking shape on his face because of me reading his mind.

I liked that. Just to stare at him while the low soothing music plays in the background. The dim lights kinda painting his features, sculpting his face and becoming a breathtaking piece of art to my eyes. Everything dragging me closer to him, being tempted by his tainting eyes and small sparkles within them, just like losing track of the time by simply staring at the night sky, dark, silent, mysterious. I always wondered what new sercrets took place again in his heart. Making his eyes getting darker and darker each time i see him. I fear that light that keeps fading might really dissapear some day, or worse, i will just let myself be eaten by it, his own darkness, together with him, getting myself covered in his own black. Romantic but tragic too. Tempting myself to just forget and lose myself in him. I can still picture it right. My attention would fall easily on his hands. Taking his coat off, raising his shirt sleeves up. Seeing his beautiful neck and adam's apple dance each time he would take a gulp from the wiskey. A small sound leaving his beautifull lips, together with a deep breath exhaled, relieving any tension from his body. His eyes locking on mine while his hand is traveling easily through his hair. I take my time, letting myself be mesmerized by each part. Soon my eyes travel again to his hands, each small detail that is elegantly decorating them, each vein pulsating from his blood rushing, how many stories can he write on me with those.

My own hands wish they would be his while i caress myself, letting my imagination run wild. Traveling and hugging each side of my body. Wishing to melt again in his touch. Feeling a rougher grasp but also gentlier feather like glide. Hearing his growls playing sweetly in my ears while i feel each part of him tensing stronger and stronger, his chest rising and lowering in the same rythm with mine, never allowing to catch my breath, selfishly drowing each of my moan i wish to let out with his mouth. The highs and lows i fell fought until we got closer and closer, relivieng with eachother climax and getting deeper into our desire with each new session. Open towards each raw fantasy we had. Embracing each shade of color we would have had it hidden. I might have learned how to work my body the best way but it's been too long not to crave for his way of loving me. His kisses and moans, the passion and hunger that he is able to pour into me, making me forget about any other woman that shared his bed in his travels. Making me forget about any man that took out a bit of my loneliness while he was away. I crave you, i need to see you showing up late at night, to enjoy eachother's silence while we get through our work and simply sharing in each other eyes the desire that only this walls will know it after i close. To scream your name and hear you calling mine. Doyoung, i swear i hate myself for it, but after so long away, i cannot lie, i do miss you.

All of this, because of her. She changed a bit of me, she made me see the beauty of such love, whishing to have it my own, to feel through my whole, she changed all of us, and her accident even more after it. I still have sour taste in my mouth looking back at it.

The only thing i could actually do was to show my support, which i am faithfully still doing it for you, my beloved brother. Even though i know you've strayed away from the man you wanted to be. I know you are aware of it. I know you won't allow me or anyone to get you out of this hell. You only wish to be watched. You wish for everyone to see and experience the purifying fire you want to unleash. Taeyong, you might have supporters on this dream, but, why i feel this is only a mission fueled by the guilt and resentment, a guilt you should actually share it with us, so we can all grieve fully, so you can heal. Cause while i look to the story that you plan i only see an ugly ending. I know i should let you do it, but you leaving me, is a selfish thought that i would never want to happen. I will support you, but i will also be sure somebody will stop you. You need a wake up call. Has the promise you made for your grandfather been forgotten.

I need to go back to church, i can only pray for you. Pray for you that for each night you visit my place and let out all your cries of guilt and desperation burried deep indside it will be enough to just be with you. Going together through this, trying to lift a bit of your heavy cross, even if it will mean making mine push me harder to ground.

I need time, time to find the right solution to make you keep going until a new light will show at your end of tunnel. Please don't leave me so soon my dear brother. I love you too much to see you turning away. Hope my own cry will be heard one time by somebody and hope you will truly understand that what i will do, it will be for your own good. Until then, i will need to keep working and become stronger, for the two of us. I will bring it back that life, we will be like the old times, when we were together, playing family. I will keep you strong. This time i won't allow myself to be weak, to anyone, not even to the ones i love.

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yasxgamal · 4 years

Photo

Basic Information

Full name: Yasin Gamal Pronunciation: ee-ah-ceen gah-mah-l Nickname(s): Yas, E. Birthdate: November 20th, 1986 Age: 34 Zodiac: Scorpio Gender: Male Pronouns: He/him/his Romantic orientation: Panromantic Sexual orientation: Pansexual Nationality: English Ethnicity: Egyptian Current location: London, UK Living conditions: Yas' place is a one-bedroom mess. It's a good flat, spacious and in a good location, all things considered, but he's not the best at decorating. Apart from the very odd artwork or two hanging crookedly on the walls, there isn't much more to it. He keeps his space clean and tidy when he has the time to do that, but it's not a very personal place. Also probably smells like smoke most of the time -- or, air freshener if he's trying to impress you.

Background

Birthplace: London, UK Hometown: London, UK Social Class: Wealthy if you count the parents' money, Middle if you consider his own money and lifestyle currently, and his tendencies to waste it all on cigarettes. Educational achievements: A really fancy degree in Computer Sciences and Computer Engineering at the most expensive college in the UK Father: Omar Gamal Mother: Safiya Gamal Sibling(s): Samir Gamal and Aisha Gamal. Birth order: Samir, Yas, Aisha is the youngest. Pets: Ramen, the stray cat that crawls in through his window and occasionally spends weeks sleeping inside, and then disappears for months on end. Previous relationships: One big relationship in college for 3 years, a miserable breakup. Then mostly only casual things after that, none he would consider true relationships. Arrests: N/A Prison time: N/A

Occupation & Income

Current occupation: Programmer for the Time Machine project Dream occupation: Programmer for the first working Time Machine Past job(s): College Era: various internships, waiter, freelance photographer for kids' parties, freelance I.T., tech teacher for the elderly, tech teacher for children, coder and manager for a pornographic film company's website. Post-College Era: has helped coding and programming several apps and softwares independently, then a stable job at GoodCore Software Ltd. as SQA Lead. Spending habits: Yas spends a lot on cigarettes and technology, but everything else he doesn't care enough for. In debt?: No Most valuable possession: Emotionally, his own laptop or phone, and all the photos and memories stored in them, as well as his work. Legally and monetarily, though, it's the BAFTA statuette from his sister, which he now gets to keep for a year because he won a bet (it's fine, she has more than one).

Skills & Abilities

Physical strength: Average Speed: Average Intelligence: Above Average when it comes to all things technology, Average on some other subjects. Accuracy: Average Agility: Above Average Stamina: Above Average Teamwork: Great in environments where everyone is delegated a certain job and he gets to do his thing in his corner to add to the mix. When it comes to people wanting to mess with his codes, he gets a bit stubborn and difficult to deal with. Shortcomings: often lets his pride ruin things, a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his work, bad at communicating. Languages spoken: English, Arabic Drive?: Yes Jump-start a car?: No Change a flat tyre?: Yes Ride a bicycle?: Poorly Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: If you count the guitar lessons in his childhood (he does) Play chess?: Yes Braid hair?: No Tie a tie?: Yes Pick a lock?: No Cook?: Yes, the very bare minimum, and he hardly does it.

Physical Appearance & Characteristics

Faceclaim: Rami Malek Eye colour: Greyish green Hair colour: Black Hair type/style/length: Shaved on the sides, originally short on top but it grows out too fast and he can't be bothered to get a haircut, so it grows out curly. When it starts to become a mop and look like he has a helmet of hair on, he cuts it short again, and repeats that cycle. Glasses/contacts?: No, but they're needed. He has shit eyesight and no one ever forced him to get glasses so he never did. Don't ask him to read any signs that are far away. Dominant hand: Right Height: 5'9 / 175cm Weight: 154 lb / 70kg Build: Slim Exercise habits: Nonexistent, but he does a lot of walking Skin tone: Olive (Type IV) Tattoos: The initials of his siblings, A.S. in a simple font, on the bottom of his ribs on his right side. They all have matching ones. He continuously tells them the joke that they should get a fourth sibling with an S name, so he can get A.S.S. tattooed instead. Piercings: None Marks/scars: Several small scars around his legs and arms, from climbing around and getting into trouble as a middle child desperate for attention. A more notorious scar runs up behind his left elbow from a night in college when he got wasted with his friends and had an accident with a knife (don't ask). Clothing style: Black, a lot of black. The most colourful thing in his closet might be a dark grey jumper. Very minimalistic in the sense that he never wears patterns or colours or graphic tees, it's always just very dry and kind of bland. He probably could get into fashion if he wanted to, but he feels bad spending so much of his hard-earned money on the high-fashion stuff. Also he can frequently be spotted wearing those compression gloves/braces on his hands, for carpal tunnel syndrome Jewellery: A couple necklaces that have no emotional attachment besides "I thought they were cool so I bought them", but he's never without them, even when they mostly just hang inside his shirts. Dabbles in rings if he's feeling fancy. Allergies: None Diet: Consists of mostly snacks. He occasionally buys the healthy kind, like a couple granola bars or some fruit, but if he's going through a big project, he'll only snack. Anything easy to eat with one hand goes. He does, however, understand the value of nutrition and that he needs to fuel his body properly every once in a while; when that happens, he resorts to ordering food from some healthy restaurant nearby. It's basically a couple salads a month and then nothing but Doritos for days straight. Physical ailments: Carpal tunnel syndrome happens often enough that it's almost chronic, because he doesn't usually take breaks or stretch his wrists out like he's supposed to. Back pain from sitting all day (and bad posture) is also so present that he barely notices it anymore.

Psychology

MBTI type: INTJ Enneagram type: Type Five Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Temperament: Somewhere between Phlegmatic and Melancholic? Element: Water Emotional stability: Who is she! Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert Obsession(s): Outdoing his siblings, no matter how much he loves them Compulsion(s): Working to the point of forgetting to take care of himself Phobia(s): Acrophobia and atychiphobia Addiction(s): Cigarettes/Vaping Drug use: Sometimes wrongly and terribly pops an Adderall when pulling all-nighters. Has smoked weed before, but he doesn't love the slowness of when he gets high. Alcohol use: Not very often nowadays, but the occasional blackout still happens. He's known to become a completely different person when he drinks, much more loose and fun and happy, so he does it sparingly Prone to violence?: No Prone to crying?: No Believe in love at first sight?: Yes, but doesn't think he's the type to ever experience that, since it takes a while for him to get close to people, so he believes in it as an abstract concept

Mannerisms

Accent: RP English Speech quirks: A lot of pauses between words and sentences, since he often thinks a lot before he speaks. The occasional ums and uhs and some stuttering if his mind is working faster than he can speak, too. Hobbies: Photography, playing video games, reading novels (graphic or otherwise), finding passive-aggressive memes to send into the Gamal siblings groupchat Habits: Stealing wifi, smoking and vaping, ordering delivery of everything instead of getting it himself Nervous ticks: lip chewing, tapping fingers, bouncing one knee, scratching his neck/jaw or touching his nose Drives/motivations: It's all for the glory, babey Fears: Never achieving anything grand Sense of humour?: It goes as far as memes and roasting his loved ones, but not much further than that. He's usually not comfortable enough to crack jokes, but you might get a sarcastic comment or two if you're lucky. Deep down, he can be sharp and quick-witted, but it doesn't come out often, unless he's having drinks. Do they curse often?: Hecc yes, probably as a form of rebellion against his posh parents

Favourites

Animal: Tarsier Beverage: Strong black coffee with two spoons of sugar Book: Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes Colour: Green Food: Zalabya Flower: Jasmine Gem: Peridot Mode of transportation: Walking, and if not, the metro Scent: Oranges Sport: Tennis Weather: Rainy enough that he doesn't feel anyone's judgement for staying inside all day Vacation destination: Japan

Attitudes

Greatest dream: Finally being famous for his work Greatest fear: Never achieving anything big enough to make him happy, and being forever miserable because of it Most at ease when: Left by himself or enjoying someone else's company that he's truly comfortable with, probably in silence, doing his own thing Least as ease when: Forced into environments where he has to put on fancy clothes and pretend to be enjoying himself when he's not. Alternatively: when he's going on hour 32 without any sleep and he's denied more coffee Worst possible thing that could happen: Achieving greatness but realising he needs something else in order to feel fulfilled and be happy Biggest achievement: His degree and hopefully the first working Time Machine Biggest regret: He doesn't like to say he regrets things, so there's nothing he'd call a huge regret. But if he had to say something, he'd probably say it was not telling that one high school crush that he liked them.

#yes i did choose a borderline pornographic photo that has nothing to do w my character #in hopes to thirst trap everyone #and what about it??????#rami deserves this #( task 001 )#( task )

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numba99 · 5 years

Text

Fatal Attraction - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

summary: When a mysterious man shows up at your job, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to him - and him to you. But behind the beautiful face is the dark lifestyle of a man who has made his wealth through becoming the most powerful drug dealer in the city. Word count: 3.1k

warning: smut, chunk of this isn't proof read don’t hate me

It took all of two mornings waking up to Mika to convince you to move in with him. You were surprised at yourself, usually your resolve was a lot stronger. But Mika was, well, Mika and even though he wasn’t putting any pressure on you to make a decision, the thought of waking up to a bed without him in it was enough to make up your mind.

You didn’t tell him, not yet at least. Mika was bringing out the sentimentality in you, something you haven’t felt in quite some time. You knew you wanted to make it special, you just didn’t know how yet. Mika had already made plans for the two of you today, so you were hoping something might spark your creativity.

“Shopping?” you asked as you fished through your duffle bag for something to wear. Another reason you needed to figure out what you wanted to do quickly: you were running out of outfits in your duffle bag.

“Yeah you know you go into a store and pick out what you li-”

“I know what shopping is,” you rolled your eyes, cutting off his joke, “I meant like I didn't expect that to be on the agenda today. I would have thought you had more important things to do.”

Mika shook his head, “That’s what I pay other people to take care of. They can survive awhile without me. What’s important to me today is that I get to spend time with you.”

You blushed, leaning into the soft kiss he placed on your forehead. “So where are we gonna go?” you questioned. You remember hearing something about Old Navy having a sale and you were in need of some new sweaters with the cold weather rolling in.

“I was thinking we could hit Madison Avenue, maybe a bit of 5th depending what you wanna get,” Mika replied casually.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I couldn’t even tell you what stores are there. Even if I could I couldn’t afford a single thing from them.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m buying today,” Mika replied, pulling on a sleek leather jacket. It fit him perfectly and looked incredibly expensive. You guessed you shouldn’t have been shocked that he was not Old Navy bound,

“No way Mika, I can't have you dropping that kind of money on me,” you shook your head.

“What’s the point of having tons of money if I can’t spend it on my beautiful girlfriend?” Mika replied, reaching his hand out for you to take.

“I know but still,” you nibbled your lip, taking his hand. Despite being unsure, you let him lead you out.

“Would it make you feel better if the first place we go is for me?” he asked.

“Yes actually, I would enjoy that,” you nodded. Watching him try on some expensive clothes? Sounded like a good afternoon to you.

In the back seat of the car you watched as the city streets morphed in a luxurious outdoor mall. Each storefront was more extravagant than the last, inviting shoppers to come in and spend more than most probably make in a few weeks of work. Luxury stuff had always seemed silly to you, you didn't necessarily believe it was any better than anything else. It was just the name you were paying to flash your status to everyone else.

Still, you weren’t immune to the lure of it all... the stuff was nice after all. There were a few stores that caught your eye and you memorized the names so you could tell Mika where you wanted to go later. You still planned to be conservative with your purchases, though. There was no need to ring up a crazy bill. Maybe just a sweater (which you needed) and a purse (which you just wanted).

“Here,” Mika broke into you imaginary shopping list. Mika helped you out of the car and led you into the store, which had La Perla in gold script above the doorway. You furrowed your brows when you were met by a store filled entirely with lingerie.

“I thought we were shopping for y- oh.” As the words left your mouth it hit you. The clothes may be for you, but the experience was for him. The smirk on Mika’s face told you you were right.

“Here I was thinking I’d be watching you try a bunch of suits on,” you remarked, running your hand over a lacy bra.

Mika chuckled, “Not exactly.” He wandered away from you, distracted by something red and skimpy in the corner. You did some wandering yourself, drawn to some of the softer pink items they had. You spent so much time in the overtly sexy stuff as a stripper that you thought it would be a nice change to try some of the more delicate pieces.

You flipped the price tag over on a pretty pink lace bra and nearly gasped. Over $300 fro a bra?? This place was definitely not your speed. You were about to go find Mika to tell him this place was ridiculous when you found him making a beeline to you. A black lace teddy in hand, of course.

“I need you to try this on,” Mika said, a hint of strain in his voice. You had to know, you grabbed the tag and read the price.

“Mika this is over $400!” you whisper exclaimed. As stupid as you thought it was you didn't the salespeople to hear you say it. “This is ridiculously expensive.”

“No it’s not.” Mika replied.

You picked up the bra you were looking at and shook it at him, “This should not cost $300 dollars. Thats insanity!”

Mika laughed at your indignation. “Look I know it seems expensive but image the number is off the price. It may say $429 but to me that really like $42 or something. This isn’t a lot to me, so don’t stress about it,” Mika explained, “And I definitely think you should try the pink one too.”

It was weird, you knew Mika had a lot of money - his apartment was more than proof of that - but it was still so foreign to you to have someone talk so nonchalant about spending all that money. It was so far removed from the life you’ve lived, that was for sure.

But the way Mika was looking at you right now... you couldn't resist. You handed him the bra, eliciting a triumphant smile. The two of you shopped a little while longer, which was basically Mika picking out the sexiest things he could find and you ignoring the price tags.

Eventually, the two of you collected an impressive pile and headed for the dressing room. Mika slipped the attendant a couple hundreds and whispered, “We’d like privacy.”

“Of course sir,” she replied quickly, squirreling away the money. Mika wasn’t famous and there was no way the woman even knew who he was aside from being a rich dude with money. Yet, there was a way people regarded Mika, it was like he demanded respect without even having to ask and everyone readily gave it up. His presence alone was powerful and, apparently, very palpable, even to those he has just met. Even with all the time you spent with him, it still made your stomach do flips.

Mika hung up the items he picked out in one of the dressing rooms - which looked nicer than any room in your apartment. “Save the black one for last,” Mika instructed, before pulling the curtain over, leaving you alone to change.

You stared at the array of luxe fabrics before you, trying to figure out wear to start. You decided on a barely-there red two piece because why not start it off with a bang?

It was strange, though, staring at yourself in the sexy little set. Sure, you’ve worn more provocative stuff on stage, which Mika had seen. Hell, you just had sex, there wasn’t much he hadn't seen of you. But something about being dressed up for him in the bright dressing room lights, with nothing to hide behind was intimate for you in away that made your heart race.

You couldn’t keep him waiting forever, though. With a deep breath, you pulled aside the curtain dividing the two of you. Mika immediately perked up, drawing in a breath.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you haven't seen this before,” you brushed him off, as if his reaction to you wasn’t fueling your ego.

“Doesn’t mean you still don’t take my breath away,” he replied, reaching out for you. You obliged, stepping close enough to allow him to run his hands up and down your sides.

“I don’t think you’re gonna make it through all the lingerie I have to try on,” you teased. Honestly, though, if he kept looking at you like that you weren’t going to make it through either.

Mika chuckled, sitting back in his chair, “Don’t worry baby, I’m a patient man. Now try on that pink one, yeah? I think it will suit you perfectly.” As you spun around to he'd back into the dressing room Mika gave your ass a playful slap. You let out a little shriek giggle as you shut the curtain behind that.

And you went on like that for a while, trying on ridiculously expensive lingerie and having Mika all but drool over you every time. Each time it got harder to retreat back into the dressing room and not straddle his lap and kiss that teasing smirk off his face.

Finally you made it to the black lace teddy, which you knew Mika was most excited about. At first you thought it would be nothing special, but when you put it on you never felt sexier. It hugged your body perfectly, accentuating every curve. The delicate lace inked a deep black made it a perfect balance of pretty and sexy.

“Wow,” was all Mika could manage when you stepped out for him.

“You like?” you arched your brow, a smile playing at your lips.

“Love,” Mika replied, standing up and stepping towards you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips found yours and it was like a switch flipped. His soft, demure touches were now hungry. He kissed you deeply, as he walked you back into the dressing you. He pulled the curtain over and pushed you agains the wall.

“Mika,” you gasped, surprised his sudden burst of dominance, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Mika asked, kiss down your body, his finger ghosting over your clothed core.

“We can’t do this, people are in the store,” you whispered, ignoring how good it felt to have him touching you. You knew it was wrong, but the idea of being caught any moment was getting you even more turned on.

“I told them to leave us alone,” Mika replied, lips still peppering kisses over your skin.

“I don’t think they includes having sex in their store,” you shot back, fighting back a moan.

Mika was eye level with you again, his hand cupping your chin. “You can be quiet for me, right honey?” he asked. His eyes were always so soft looking, but the way they clouded with lust in that moment made it impossible for you to say no.

You nodded and Mika flashed a dazzling smile before return to work. He was back on his knees, crouching before you. He slipped down the fabric down your body, letting it pool at your feet. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips before going in for your thighs.

He kissed there for awhile, alternating between each leg to get you extra needy. His teasing didn't last too long; he was just as eager to taste you as you were to feel him. You pressed your back against the wall as his lips found your core to keep yourself steady. Mika slung a leg over his shoulder to allow him better access to you.

“Fuck, Mika,” you half whispered hand moaned. Your hands tangled through his hair has licked circles around your clit. It felt so good you were almost trying to push him away, but Mika didn’t budge. He kept pressing his face into you, like he couldn’t get enough. It was all too much, the scratch of his beard against your inner thighs, his tongue moving expertly across you, and the sounds of him eating you out. A few moments later you were practically collapsing on top of him as you came.

“Fucking hell,” you said breathlessly as Mika finished you off. He stood back up, wiping off his chin and grinning widely.

“So you enjoyed yourself?” he smirked.

“That’s an understatement,” you replied, “Do you need...” your voice trailed off as you eye his pants.

Mika shook his head, “Today’s all about you. Speaking of which, we are buying all of this.” Mika stepped out to let you change. You laughed to yourself that he was just very intimate with your body and was now acting modest when you had to put your clothes back on.

You tried not to think about what you just did as the two of you brought the lingerie to the register because you were afraid they’d be able to see it on your face. If they had any inclination of what occurred in their dressing room, they weren't showing it. The rung up well over a months worth of rent in lingerie and Mika swiped his card without batting an eye.

“Thank you, Mika. Everything is beautiful, I appreciate it,” you replied as you walked back out on to the street, “And I cannot wait to wear it all for you.”

“Me too,” he smiled.

The two of you went around to a bunch of different stores, dropping more than you ever thought was possible in a single day. And that was with you being modest about what you wanted. You knew you could have picked out piles of clothes and Mika wouldn't have cared, but you weren't there yet.

“I've got one more place I wanna go,” Mika told you, taking your hand despite having all the bags on his arms. He refused to let you carry any of them. Mika led you towards a store with rich, red awnings that read Cartier.

You were immediately greeted by a salesperson, whisked away your bags so you could shop unencumbered. Rich people really were indulged. You walked around the glass-encased jewelry, which sparkled magnificently.

“So many pretty things to put on you,” Mika whispered over your shoulder. You giggled, leaning into the kiss he planted on your cheek.

“What a gorgeous couple,” a salesman noted, smiling brightly at the two of you, “Can I show you some pieces?”

“Please,” Mika replied. The man motioned for you to follow him, and you did, right to a velvet red chair at the end of the counter. He pulled out an array of options, each more impressive than the next.

You spent a decent amount of time trying different pieces on. At one point you thought you could have close to a hundred thousands worth of jewelry on. Mika loved every minute of it, of course. His favorites were always the necklaces, partly because he got to help you put those on, but mostly because he loved how the sparkled by your cleavage.

Everything was beautiful, but the last piece you tried on was your favorite. It was simple, to circles enclosed together, one dotted with diamonds around the entire circumference.

“That’s our Love necklace,” the salesman told you. That was fitting. You gave Mika a soft smile, and he knew that that was winner piece. Before Mika could tell him you’d take it, his phone rang.

He looked as his phone and a frown flashed across his face. “I’m so sorry, just excuse me for a second.”

“You're a lucky woman,” the salesman said when Mika was out of earshot. You smiled and nodded, watching Mika pace as he listened to the person on the other end. Something was up.

“You okay?” you asked when he finally returned.

“I’ve gotta go, Chris needs me,” he replied, trying to sound calm but their was an edge of nerves in his voice. That definitely freaked you out.

“Is everything okay?” you asked again.

Mika composed himself for you. “Yes, I’ll explain later,” Mika’s eyes darted to the salesman as if to say he couldn’t speak about it now, “I’ll send a car to take you home.”

“We aren't leaving together?”

“No, I need to get there right away,” Mika replied, tapping away at his phone. He turned to the salesman, “Can you hold some of these items for us? We’ll be back another day for them. And, here, for your discretion.” He tossed some hundreds down and the salesman nodded eagerly.

“My other driver isn’t answering and I don’t want you in a random Uber,” Mika frowned at his phone.

“Mika, I’ll be fine, okay? Take the car and get to wherever you need to go,” you told him.

“How will you get home?”

“This may shock you but below this city there are tons of trains under this city. I’ve heard you can use them to get around,” you joked.

The pulled a smile from him at least. “Never lose your attitude,” he grinned, before turning more serious, “Text me the second you get home. Or if you need anything at all. I’ll drop everything and come to you, okay?”

“Of course,” you replied, “Go do what you need to do and then we can try out some of these.” You tapped the bag from La Perla.

Mika smiled, “I can’t wait.” With that, he kissed your forehead and was gone.

You tried not to worry too much as you made your way home. Mika always handled his shit well, and you didn’t wanna make yourself crazy jumping to the most dangerous conclusion. Besides, you needed, to focus on getting home because now it was dark and you weren’t familiar with this part of town.

You tried to follow a shortcut, but realized you misread the map and didn’t know where you were. No reason to panic, you’ve gotten yourself lost more times than you could count and always made it out. But maybe this time if you hadn’t been so focused on finding your way, you would have noticed the guy who was tailing you since you walked out of Cartier. And maybe if you noticed that, it wouldn’t have been such a shock when the back of your head was hit hard, turning your whole world black.

#fatal attraction #m zibanejad #mika zibanejad imagine #mika zibanejad smut #new york rangers imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines

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