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unclewaynemunson · 8 months

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Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

#in which robin is all of us #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #they're idiots your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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hellodarling1357 · 4 months

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Could I request Cass trying to seduce and get readers attention who’s playing hard to get? I need more flirty Cass 😩

Touched by an Angel - Cassian x Reader

This request was so much fun to write!!! Thanks for sending it in lovely anon, hopefully you like it 💕

Excuse the cheesy pickup lines, you know I had to do it…

I’m slowly working through my WIPs and inbox so please send me some more requests!!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Regardless of the fact that you and Mor had been friends for well over two centuries, Rhy was only just now granting you access into Velaris after much persuasion from his cousin. The plan being you were to stay with Mor for two weeks while she had some time off from her work so that you could properly catch up after being apart for far too long.

Your first night in the City of Starlight was an eventful one to say the least. During the day, you had let Mor show you around the markets and the Rainbow, stopping to have a late lunch along the Sidra, before she dragged you back to her place to get ready for a night out at Rita's. You had heard a lot about the club over your years of friendship, so you were excited to experience a night there for yourself.

After a few too many glasses of wine over the time it took to get ready, you were well on your way to being very, very drunk before you even stepped inside the crowded establishment. Straight away, Mor was pulling you to the bar before promptly placing a shot glass of some pink-looking drink into your hand, followed by another, and another, leaving you feeling giddy with excitement and the overwhelming desire to dance.

So dance you did.

The hours passed and you briefly remember being introduced to some of Mor's friends, not paying much attention as the music and sway of bodies consumed you. However, the overwhelming heat of the swarm of fae pressed so tightly around you eventually got the better of you. You turned on the spot, looking for you friend to tell her you were going to take a breather, only to find her wrapped around a female and very clearly distracted. With a grin spread across your face, you pushed your way through the masses and headed towards the door.

The fresh air was a welcoming change to the stuffiness you had walked out of. But it was the sight before you that had an expression of awe sketched across your face. Velaris had been pretty in the daylight, but at night? You had never seen anything like it.

"It sure is something, isn't it?" You whipped around to face the deep voice that had spoken from behind you.

"I know you." It wasn't a question. The male in front of you did look familiar.

"Yeah, I'm Cassian. One of Mor's friends. We met earlier?" You nodded with a vague recollection of the tall, muscled figure who had seemed to tower over the rest of the dancing fae.

"Right," But you were distracted by the slanted smirk of his full lips, the slight alcohol-induced haze in his eyes tracked your every movement.

You lent side-by-side against the alleyway wall, talking about whatever mundane thing came to mind before an 'acceptable' enough amount of time had passed, then Cassian had you pressed against said wall. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, his mouth attacking your neck with bruising kisses, while you moaned out, not caring who heard, at the feel of him inside you. With a final cry, you became undone in his arms, squeezing around him until he came with a guttural groan. You held onto him for support as he helped steady you back onto your feet, afraid your knees would give out as you panted into the chill night air, the thrum of music and excited chatter reminding you of where you were.

"Well, I should probably...," you motioned behind you towards the door, "Mor is probably looking for me."

"Right. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Cassian waited until you had walked back inside Rita's before deciding to call it a, very pleasant, night and flew back to the House of Wind.

*****

You awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, your stomach churning in a sickly way as the sunlight pooled in through the open curtains.

Mor let out a groan next to you, slamming a pillow over her face before soft snores sounded again. With a groan of your own, you forced yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

You looked like absolute shit.

Your hair was a mess on top of your head, strands having escaped the band you used to pull it out of your face. Dark smudges were smeared around your eyes, a stark contrast to the pale and clammy complexion of your skin. Your eyebrows furrowed even further at the sight of the splattering of hickeys that trailed along the side of your neck and across your chest. Clearly it had been a bigger night than you thought because you had zero recollection of how, or when, they got there. Or, more importantly, who gave them to you.

"You look like you've been attacked by a leech."

You shoved Mor as she stood beside you, observing herself in the mirror with a frown. She looked just as bad, if not worse, than you did.

"You can fuck right off, thank you very much." Your friend just shot you a stunning, if not slightly pained, grin.

"Ugh, come on. Showers then we're going to Rhys' for breakfast," She chucked you a towel before walking out to give you some privacy.

As if in after thought, she threw over her shoulder, "Want me to leave a scarf out for you to cover them up?" You slammed the door in her face, the wooden panel not blocking out her laughter as she asked, "Or would you prefer a jumper? Something with a high neckline?"

*****

Walking past the gate of the High Lord's town house, you knew should definitely be feeling somewhat nervous as the prospect of having a casual, albeit hungover, breakfast with him and his inner circle. But the fact that you were hungover, and that the heavenly smell of bacon was wafting towards you, had all pretences flying out the window.

You and Mor were the first to arrive, or more like, the first to drag yourselves out of bed, so had first dibs of the spread of food before you.

Looking a little green, Mor mumbled something about needing to get some fresh air, leaving you alone to eat your eggs in peace. That peace was short lived, however, as the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the stairs reminded you that there were others in the house, and whose house it was for that matter.

Mor waltzed into the room at the same time as the three Illyrian males, you knew Rhys straight away, having met him a few times throughout the years, but the other two only looked vaguely familiar. You were sure you could pinpoint their names if you thought about it hard enough but, alas, your brain was still not properly functioning.

There was a chorus of muffled "mornings" but other than that, everyone was content to eat, and suffer, in silence.

You eventually got up, taking a pile of dishes into the kitchen, vaguely aware of one of the males following behind you.

He let out a low whistle before saying, "Well, I clearly left an impression."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, turning to face the male as you studied his face.

"Do I know you?" Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have been so blunt. You would have at least tried to feign some sort of confusion, 'I thought you looked familiar', 'of course, what was your name again?' but with your head still spinning you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Yes," He let out a laugh that quickly faltered as your evident confusion remained, "We had sex. Last night…"

You blinked as he waved a hand towards your neck, where the marks were still very clearly visible. But before you could say anything, laughter sounded from the other room as a stream of taunts filtered in.

"I thought you said that you were good in bed, Cass. That's just embarrassing, not even a few hours later and poor Y/N has already forgotten all about you."

“Left an impression, my ass.”

Cassian

That's right, you could place him now. Him, and the somewhat blurred memory of frantic and passionate kisses, muscled arms holding you tightly, the sounds of...

Yep, you remembered.

Clearly not deterred in the slightest, Cassian gave you a dazzling smile, running a hand through his tousled hair before saying with a wink, "That's alright, I'll just have to make it more memorable for you next time."

You scrunched your nose at the implication. Sure, he was attractive. Honestly, one of the most attractive males you had ever laid eyes on. But you knew better than to fall for the clearly tried-and-tested smirk that you had no doubt had been used on countless females before you.

"Thanks," You noted the glint in his eyes as he continued fixing you with that intent glaze, "but I'll pass."

You walked towards the collection of snorts and laughter as you left Cassian standing in the kitchen with the stack of dishes, a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face.

*****

A few days into your visit, Mor had left you to your own devices for a few hours, which was how you ended up stretched out on one of the seats in the town house's garden, a book in hand as you basked in the sun. You were slightly aware of the back door opening and closing but paid it no real heed, that is, until the shadow of someone standing in front of you pulled your eyes away from the page.

You looked up expectantly, already anticipating the direction the conversation was heading in; having grown accustomed to Cassian's flirtations and not so subtle attempts of wooing you since that first morning.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked towards the empty seat he was pointing at, and the one beside it, and the one beside that.

"Yes, it is. No go away, you're blocking the sun." You looked back down at your book, not sparing him a second glance.

"We can't have that now, can we, sweetheart?"

For a moment you thought he had actually listened to you and was heading back inside, that is until you quickly glanced up and found him sprawled across the glass, staring up at you with a smirk.

"What? You said that seat was taken. And at least from down here I'm not blocking the sun. You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

You stared ahead in frustration before letting out a huff as you returned to your book, not missing the grin that had spread over Cassian's face at your reaction.

A few minutes of silenced had passed, you had almost forgotten about Cassian's presence until he let out a soft laugh and said, "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you, right now, the way the sun is shining on you, you look like an absolute vision."

You shifted in your seat trying to ignore the irritation that simmered away.

"What is this? What are you doing?" You snapped back, not giving him a chance to answer, "Is this your way of flirting with me?"

Without missing a beat, Cassian answered, "Yes. Is it working?"

The wink he sent you had your indignantly moving your book up to block him out, and to prevent him from seeing the traitorous blush that spread across your cheeks.

*****

A few night later, you were having dinner with Mor and the rest of the inner circle, having grown quite close to some of them over the week you had been staying.

"You know what I don't get?" Cassian, who sat across from you, asked, "What I don't get, is how someone as beautiful as you could possibly be single. And, the funny thing is, I also happen to be single, but we can easily change that. How about it, Y/N? Fancy a drink?"

"Oh, I would but... I've already got one. Thanks anyway." You gave him a pretty little smile as you raised your glass before turning back to your conversation with Mor and Amren.

"Better luck next time," You heard Azriel say through a laugh as Rhys ruffled Cassian's hair.

*****

The next time you saw Cassian, he had run into the kitchen at an alarming speed, a slight look of panic in his eyes as you cautiously observed him.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I need your help,” Your eyes crinkled in concern, “Please. Can I please borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”

The faux-panicked look was quickly overtaken by a wide cheesy grin as he leant in towards you.

“Cassian,” You yelled, whacking him with a tea towel, “You prick! I thought something serious happened.”

“Something serious did happen, Y/N. The night we met, and you stole my heart… That alleyway will never be the same after what we shared there.”

You threw the tea towel at him as you stomped out of the room, passing a confused looking Mor, who, upon seeing Cassian standing there with a lovesick grin, rolled her eyes and followed after you.

*****

“I don’t get why you don’t just say yes,” Mor said as you heavily sipped from a glass of wine back at her apartment. “He’s one of the good ones, Y/N. Take away all of the cringy pick-up lines and I think he’s serious about wanting to take you out, he really does like you.”

“It’s not that easy…”

“No? What’s not easy about it?”

You starred at her, not wanting to say what was on your mind. She was just as stubborn though, if not even more so than you, so stared right back with a quirked eyebrow as she waited for your explanation.

Huffing in defeat, you flopped back onto the couch and let out a sigh.

“It’s not easy, Mor, because there’s no point. I leave in a few days so why start something up when it’s not going to last.”

“You don’t have to,” Mor sat herself beside you, wrapping an arm around you as you leant your head on her shoulder, “leave that is. You could stay.”

“Right,” You let out a sharp laugh, “Let me just pack up my whole life and move across Prythian for a guy I’ve known all of ten days.”

“Or,” Mor counted, sending her elbow into her ribs, “You could move across Prythian for your dearest friend who has missed you like crazy and knows that you’re miserable back home. The guy could just be a nice bonus on the side.”

You sat up, staring at your friend as you mulled over her words.

“Move here? Is that allowed? Where would I even live?”

“Yes, it is. I already spoke to Rhys about it, he would love for you to stay, said he’s already got some potential work lined up if you’re interested. And, obviously, you can stay with me until you find your own place.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Huh. Now that was a thought.

“If I moved, that’s an if, not a yes, it would be for you, not because of…him”.

“I would hope so. Though I’m sure Cassian wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

The knowing grin and wink she gave you had your cheeks reddening as you lifted a pillow to cover your blush. Mor just pulled you back against her side, knowing that your hesitancy to move was just a front and that you would be packed, moved and settled in Velaris within the week.

*****

It was, technically, your last night in Velaris before you went back home to pack up your belongings. After talking out the logistics with Mor and Rhys, you had excitedly agreed to move and become an official citizen and member of the Night Court.

You had spent the afternoon with Mor looking at potential apartments before making your way to Rita’s for a ‘goodbye’ drink with the rest of the inner circle.

After tossing and turning all of the previous night, you had come to the decision that moving to a new city, a new court, signified the beginning of a new chapter. So why not throw caution to the wind and see how things played out with a certain Illyrian male who was currently standing by himself at the bar while he waited to be served.

“Hey,” You somewhat yelled over the music and laughter of the fae around you.

Cassian did a double-take before dramatically clutching at his chest, “Y/N, it should be illegal to look that good, it’s not fair on the rest of the females here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your usual snarky remark didn’t follow.

“I know our time together is limited,” Cassian continued, the dramatic tone still lacing his voice, “But before you leave us behind, would you at least just grab my hand, just for a moment, so that I can tell everyone I’ve been touched by an angel?”

Shaking your head as he grinned down at you, you relented and grabbed his hand. He was quick to slip his fingers through yours with a satisfied smile.

“I’m not leaving,” You said, very much aware that your fingers were still laced together, “Well, I am. But Mor convinced me to move here, so I’ll be back in a week or so.”

Cassian’s eyebrows shot up, shock settling over his features. Clearly no one had told him of your plans.

“Oh?

“Yep.”

You were interrupted by the bartender as Cassian ordered you both a drink before turning back to you with a quizzical expression.

There was a beat of silence in which your hands were still interlocked, Cassian’s thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of your hand, and you watched one another for a moment, as if seeing each other in a different light.

“Your way of flirting is truly awful, by the way.” You teased with a small smile. With the way Cassian was looking at you, there was no chance of attempting to stop your blush.

“But is it working?

“Maybe…”

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

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steventhusiast · 9 months

Text

STWG daily prompt 6/9/23

prompt: no spoons

characters/pairing(s): steddie

It's 12pm, and Steve is still in bed.

He doesn't want to be in bed. He had so many plans for the day when he went to bed. A morning run. A shower. Scrambled egg on toast. A trip to the nearest mall with Eddie.

But instead, he's still laying in bed. He hates when he gets like this.

It's actually a hundred times more embarrassing today, because Eddie stayed over last night. It's the first time he'll see Steve on a day like this, rather than just hear about it after the fact.

"Stevie?"

Steve doesn't know when Eddie appeared in the door, but he looks at him and make a vague humming noise in response.

"You okay, lovely?"

The simple question makes sudden tears well up in Steve's eyes, and he hastily brings his hands up to wipe at his face. What is he even crying for.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He says, but the words sound wobbly even to his own ears.

He keeps his eyes closed as he hears Eddie walk over and then feels the bed dip as he sits by him. A gentle hand comes up to card through Steve's hair.

"You're not a very good liar." Eddie says, and somehow his voice is gentle enough that it feels comforting. Steve sighs.

"I just can't do it today."

"Do what?"

"Anything." Steve confesses, and finally takes his hands off his face to look at Eddie.

An expression of understanding paints Eddie's face.

"No spoons?" He asks.

Steve nods, and feels something settle in his gut at the fact that Eddie understands him so well.

"Okay, well." Eddie thinks for a moment, keeps playing with Steve's hair, "How can we make getting up easier for you?"

"Oh."

No one's ever asked him that before.

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #autistic steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #they're my babies #my blorbos #disabled steve harrington #mywriting #dailydrabble

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thekrakenlolz · 3 months

Text

Start up Fic - Ellie Williams x Reader

part 2

Summary: You switch dorms at your boarding school after you and your girlfriend go through a messy break up and you no longer can handle being roommates with her. Only your new one is a different kind of problem

a/n: I wrote the first chapter only to realize I have no idea what comes next. So here's my plan: if y'all like the set up, you can give me suggestions for what you want to happen next. I basically just laid down the base. So you can read it if you want and see if you have any ideas. But just as a warning, I'm not gonna write smut without a plot, I'm not about that life. I have a vague idea of what I can put next but it's very cliche and overdone sooooo yeah, thanx in advance<3

Also, English is my third language so expect bad grammar

°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-

Your eyes wandered over the walls as you walked along them. The paint was starting to flake off, revealing the concrete underneath. Your school was old. Like old, old. Like Victorian ages old. Something most of your friends scoffed over, but you personally liked. You thought it gave it character. Of course a little bit of a touch up wouldn't hurt, but bathroom doors that are actually still attached to the stall hinges were overrated anyways.

You were following Miss Jenkins, your housemother, hunched over as you were balancing three of your bags on your back. Uncomfortable, yes, but you were trying to minimize the amount of trips you had to make to move all your shit over to your new dorm. Anything to avoid seeing Samira more than absolutely fucking necessary.

"Here we are" Miss Jenkins sighed, stopping in front of one of the gray doors. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. You were still pissed that you had to put in 4 requests over the duration of 2 months before they finally assigned you a new room, but now she was acting like she was doing you a huge favor. Like taking 15 minutes out of her day was so much to ask for. But you kept it down, thanking her again before opening the door and stepping in.

The lengthy process of actually getting a new room gave you plenty of time to stress over who your new roommate would be. This girl, however, didn't even come to mind. You weren't even sure what her name was, your social circle and her's didn't interact much. E-something? Or was it L?

Mystery girl was sitting at her desk, headphones in, and carefully shading out something in her notebook. You noticed she had tucked her left leg under her, a bad habit you also possessed. She didn't register your presence, her eyes still fixed on the paper. You threw your bags next to your bed, which finally caught her attention. "Oh fuck" she jumped up from the desk and hurried over to your bed, picking up the stuff she dumped on it. "Hello to you too" you mused.

Sweatshirts, textbooks and pencils started flying over onto her bed. "I'm sorry, I thought I had until Sunday to get my shit off your side" She explained, tossing a hairbrush across the small room. You watched it hit the wall and fall down onto her Zelda themed sheets. Cute, you noted. "No worries, take your time, I still have stuff to move over"

So you were back in the hallway, slowly but surely making your way back to your old dorm and with that, to Samira. Now that you were by yourself, you took the time to think about your new roommate. You still didn't know her name but one thing was for certain: she was incredible looking.

Her thick straight auburn hair cut off above the shoulders and her cheeks were densely dotted with freckles. She was very toned, especially in the arms. She was probably in the lacrosse team.

You did notice she was more on the masculine side, so might maybe even be gay. You full stopped, forcing yourself to remember, that's exactly the type of shit that got you in your current situation in the first place. No fucking your roommate, dude, we talked about this.

--------

You took a moment to collect yourself before entering your old room. You drew a breath in, scanning the ugly grey door that separated you and her. 12B the lettering read, touched up with some sharpie. You reached for the knob.

She was sitting at her desk, scrolling on her phone and demonstratively ignoring your presence. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. This wasn't what you expected. Somehow you preferred another stupid fight over this new silence.

You stacked two backpacks on one arm and three bags on the other. The weight made your walk out rather inelegant. You stopped in the doorway. "Goodbye Sami."

You could practically feel her hesitate.

"Bye."

#ellie williams #tlou fanfiction #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #tlou x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #boarding school #fanfic #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader

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oliversrarebooks · 6 months

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fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious

Masterlist > Next

TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump

Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.

His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.

He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all.

Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.

"...awake..."

Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.

"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."

Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.

Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.

"Morgan, please, wake up."

Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.

"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.

"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.

...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.

"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.

"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."

"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."

"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."

Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"

"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.

The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints.

"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."

Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.

"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."

"Training."

"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."

"Heavy training."

"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."

Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.

But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.

"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"

"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."

Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."

"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."

"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"

Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion.

"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."

"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."

"I understand that you're being abused!"

"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."

"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."

Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.

Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.

"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.

"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."

Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.

Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."

Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."

"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"

"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."

Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.

"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"

"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"

"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur.

"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"

"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."

"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."

Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.

"I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."

"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"

"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."

And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.

An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Hmph."

"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."

Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.

"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."

"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."

Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood.

But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it.

So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.

"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan.

"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.

"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."

Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."

"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.

He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...

Fearsome and threatening...

Ohhh.

Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland.

Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.

You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.

Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.

Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?

Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits.

Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.

Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage

#whump #villain whumpee #whumper #medical whump #sedation #concussion #abuse #morgan #arthur #laurel #fuck you i'm a goddamn menace

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theshaddowedsnow · 1 year

Text

"Shit!" Miles cursed as he and Pavitr dived into a nearby alley after hearing sirens. Granted, the sirens were a block away, but they also knew people vaguely saw them going this way. They quickly changed (having clothes everywhere in the city was a godsend sometimes) and tried to think of a plan.

"... I got something but I'm sorry in advanced," Miles sighed.

"I'm down for anything to get us out of this situation."

"Good." Miles quickly pinned Pavitr to the wall and kissed him as the red and blue lights got closer, and suddenly a flashlight was shined on them.

"What's the problem officer- Dad?" Miles yelped as he stopped kissing a stunned Pavitr and looked down the alley to see his father. "Um... This isn't what it looks like?"

"Miles? What are you doing out this late? Who's this boy? Is he why you kept skipping school and disappearing?"

"No!" Miles exclaimed and unpinned Pavitr, suddenly feeling flustered. "No, this is, uh... recent. I uh... I stopped skipping class as much because of him actually. That wasn't, isn't, Pav's fault! Listen can we talk later?"

"Sure, yeah..." Jefferson suddenly looked very always. "You know your mom and I would never love you any less rjght?"

"Dad," Miles groaned. "While I appreciate the sentiment, not now! I'll see you at home."

Miles barley got his dad to leave, then immediately groaned into his hands.

"So, uh," Pavitr coughed awkwardly, his usual cheer and bravo gone. "That uh..."

"Sorry," Miles apologized, blushing. "Not how I wanted to come out about liking boys to my dad, but uh... You... wouldn't mind playing my boyfriend for a bit, would you?"

"Oh, yeah! I can do that!" Pavitr was glad it was so dark, so Miles couldn't see how red he'd gotten. "More than happy to, um, do that. Boyfriend. Can do!"

He was so screwed.

#pavitr x miles #chaiflower #miles morales #pavitr prabhakar #fanfic #across the spiderverse

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ficmashup · 6 months

Text

Out for Drinks

A/N: Hi again, a single person asked me to continue this and I'm an absolute sucker for anyone asking me for anything, so tada. ;) Still have no clue what I'm doing, but it's fun so who cares. I think I'll continue this a little further until the story has closure, even if it's open-ended, so yeah. Thanks to people interacting. Glad you like it. :)

Warnings: Once again, very vague SA or trauma references, some harsh language, nightmares, f!reader, I mean it's almost an OC, she just doesn't have a name really, idk what I'm doing :/ First person again.

Word Count: 3.7k

Feral Masterlist

I have mixed feelings returning to base. On one hand, it’s nice to not be looking around every corner for someone looking to shoot me. Not freezing my ass off is also refreshing. On the other hand, it means being around all the other soldiers and I realize that I’d relaxed a bit around the team. Enough that I feel my defenses going back up as I walk through base, alert and aware of all eyes that trail me. We’ve just gotten back and the others have dispersed. Hopefully to shower, like I plan to. Then I feel the weight of people’s gazes leave me right before a little shiver slides down my back. I turn around to find Price behind me, a little frown on his face as he looks around. But his expression smooths as he looks at me.

“Glad to know it wasn’t a mistake taking you on. Well done.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, sending a shock of pride and pleasure through me.

I straighten up and nod. “It’s a pleasure to be with a team that lets me do my job, sir. Thank you.” There’s a small part of me that also wants to thank him for keeping me from freezing with his body heat, but I’m pretty sure I can’t mention that without blushing.

“Keep doing your job like that and you’ll leave us wondering what we ever did without you.” His hand lingers on my shoulder before dropping, his fingers skimming my arm. We begin walking towards the barracks, our pace leisurely as our boots squelch in the mud. He clears his throat slightly and my eyes snap up to his face in an instant. “Have fun with the boys tonight. If you decide to go.” He says, the corner of his mouth twitching. My brows furrow slightly. Right after we got to base, the others informed me of a post-mission ritual of going out for a drink. I hadn’t decided whether I’d go or not, despite desperately wanting to dissolve in a sweet drink.

“Will you go?” I ask as I tug my bag up my shoulder a bit.

Price nods. “I go for a drink or two. And to keep them out of trouble. Mostly.” His eyes sparkle a bit as he considers me and I get the impression he goes to watch the shit they get themselves into rather than prevent it. “Not sure whether you’d be more or less trouble.”

My lips part in surprise as I blink up at him, then I can’t help but give him a half-smile. “I do have self-control, Captain. I simply also have a low tolerance for idiocy and sometimes the only way to get people to see sense is to knock it into them. Literally.”

He chuckles and the warm sound hits me like a shot of whiskey, warming my stomach and getting me to relax just a touch more. “Well, you won’t hear me agree.” We stop in front of the barracks and it’s a pleasure to see the smile on his face, the ease in his posture. It’s been a while since I’ve just talked with somebody normally like this. Since I’ve let myself. “But you won’t hear me disagree either.” He finishes and my smile widens just a touch.

“I look forward to seeing you try to wrangle cats tonight then, sir.” I give him an easy salute before walking to my room, but my little smile lasts the whole way there.

* * *

The place they take me is an absolute shithole.

The floor is sticky as syrup, the bar chipped and scratched, and nearly every booth or barstool has stuffing coming out of the worn red leather cushions. But there’s top shelf whiskey behind the bar and that’s what they order as we file into the dump. It’s clearly a soldier’s bar and it’s busy tonight. My spine straightens as I see the amount of people shoved into the place and I make sure to pick a spot on the edge of our little group where I can see everything clearly. My gaze doesn’t leave the bartender’s hands as she pours our drinks and I don’t let the boys touch mine as I take it, my hand perched over the rim as I pull it close to me. They don’t comment, but I feel Ghost’s eyes on my hand as I cover my drink and his grip tightens on his own.

“To our Surgeon! Pray to God she doesn’t have to cut one of us open one of these days.” Soap holds up his glass and the others follow suit while I tilt mine towards them with a smile tugging on my lips.

“Don’t get shot, stabbed, or otherwise be idiots, and the likelihood of that goes down.” I remind them, feeling warm as they chuckle and I throw back my drink. My nose wrinkles at the bitter flavor as I slide the glass back to the bartender. “Mojito and a glass of water. Thanks.” She nods, giving an appreciative look to the men beside me while I shake my head slightly. When I look back to them, they’re looking at me judgement on their faces.

“A mojito, G?” Gaz starts, disappointment filling his eyes.

I lean forward in my seat, leveling them with a look. “All of you can choke on your bitter whiskey and beer, I want sugar.” Price reacts first, a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he makes a little noise that’s almost a laugh, then takes a little sip of his drink without saying a word. There’s amusement in his eyes, though.

Soap scoots towards me on his stool, clearly distraught. “It’s not just that. You disrespected a good whiskey throwing it back like that. You’ve got to savor it.”

My eyes roll. “I’m not savoring that piss-flavored swill, thanks. I appreciate the tradition and participated, but that’s all I can give you.” I respond with humor in my voice even as I watch the bartender prepare my mojito and hand me a bottled water. When she gives me my drink, I pointedly drag my lips over the sugar covered rim of my glass before taking a sip while daring the men to say something. The drink is delicious and I take a deep breath of the sweet smell edged with mint.

“Lucky you’re a good shot, G, or we’d have you thrown out on principle.” Gaz teases and I raise a brow at him as if daring him to try.

“Let G have her sweet tooth. We don’t need anyone else wearing down the stock of good whiskey in this place anyway.” Ghost, surprisingly, lets me get away with my preference before taking a sip of his drink. Soap and Gaz grumble a bit and I’m sure I’ll hear more shit about this later, but they let it go for now.

Soap rests his elbow on the bar and faces me, Gaz peeking around him. “Go on, then, lass. Tell us about yourself. Have anyone waiting for you back home?” The question is kind and genuine. Not leading.

I return the position and turn my body towards him, although my eyes are surveying the bar more often than not. “This your plan all along? Give me drinks and interrogate me?” It’s a light tease and Soap grins immediately.

“We want to get to know you.” Gaz offers and the other’s have eyes on me as well. “Despite your bad taste in drinks.” He adds in a quieter tone and I smirk. It’s only fair, I suppose. We’re a team, we’re trusting each other with everything, I can put up with some questions.

“No, nobody’s waiting for me at home. My parents died before I enlisted and I’ve been moving around ever since, so never got attached to anyone else. No partner to speak of. I get restless easily. That’s why I’m good at my job—I like the focus and having a goal to go after.” Soap blinks a little at me being so forthcoming with information, but Ghost nods. Seems he understands a little of what I’m saying. My eyes flick to Price at the other end of the bar, still nursing his drink, and his gaze is light as it rests on me. He’s listening just as much as the others. “What about you lot?” I return the question and happily sip on my drink while they tell me about themselves.

Soap and Gaz are, unsurprisingly, the most forthcoming. Gaz is more than pleased to lament his lack of partner, but proud to say that he leaves a string of broken hearts wherever he goes. It’s not too surprising. The man oozes warmth and dedication. Soap’s Scottish accent seems to get a touch deeper as he talks about his home and how he blames himself for the last loss of his favorite football team because he was on mission and couldn’t go to the game. Ghost says little about his home life. Just that he lives in London right now and there’s a little café nearby that serves a good cup of tea.

“Fuckin’ Brits.” Soap quips instantly and gets cuffed on the ear for his trouble. They descend into an argument full of sharp words and teases about who is more unbearable, Scots or Brits, and I’m so entertained that I nearly don’t register the man coming up behind me. I catch him in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar and turn around too late to send him a death glare telling him what a bad idea this is. His hand wraps around my bicep and my body is immediately stiff and my hands are clenched into fists. He’s not in uniform and he doesn’t strike me as military. Probably just some jack off that wandered in here and decided to go for one of the few women in this place. I’m in civilian clothes, jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt tucked in. Maybe not obviously military to someone who doesn’t think there are women in the military anyway. Idiot.

“What’s a pretty—"

“You have two seconds to get your hand off me before I kick you in the balls so hard that you deepthroat your own cock.” My words are sharp and there’s not an ounce of hesitation or doubt in my voice. His eyes widen and he blinks as if the words have to fight through the wall of ignorance in his head before he can understand them. Yet they must not get all the way through because he doesn’t let go and instead leans closer with a grin blooming on his face. His mouth opens and I’m already pulling my leg back for the kick when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and Price is suddenly there, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Step back.” The words are a command and the anger swirling in my gut calms a touch at the smooth authority in his tone. Of course, when a man says it, the other guy pulls his hand off me but doesn’t move away just yet.

“She yours?” He asks, looking Price over while rage boils my blood at being referenced as an object to be owned.

Price keeps close without touching me, his other arm stretched out behind me while his hand perches on the bar. “Mine to protect. Step back, son, before I let her keep her promise.” He releases the man’s shoulder with a light push to get him moving, then slides into his place and sits on the stool next to me with his back turned towards the man, effectively shutting him out. He seems flabbergasted, but eventually turns and dubiously returns to whatever corner he crawled out from.

“Sorry that I couldn’t let you take care of that yourself, G.” Price apologizes and his calm, smooth voice does wonders to soothe the anger still roiling in my chest. “It’s one thing to let you get into fights with soldiers that deserve it and should be able to handle themselves, but it’s another to let you decimate the civilian population.” His gaze holds mine, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

I take a deep breath to try and calm down. “Understood, Captain.”

“Just Price when we’re out like this.” He corrects and I hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Understood, Price. I wouldn’t want to get everyone kicked out, anyway.” I glance at the others who have busied themselves watching a football game on the tv, trusting their Captain to handle whatever the problem was. But I’m not foolish enough to think that they weren’t aware of every move that was just made and every word that was said. I finish my drink and set it aside in favor of my water. There’s a little satisfaction in hearing the soft click as the seal breaks and I take a small sip. “You didn’t chime in earlier when I asked about everyone’s homelife.” I offer, letting the question that isn’t a question linger so he can decide whether to answer or not.

He heaves a breath and shrugs a shoulder, accepting his glass as the bartender passes by. “Not much to say. I’ve got a flat in London and I’ll meet Ghost for tea every now and then when I’m desperate enough for company.” There’s a snort down the table from the man and Price smirks at the sound. “The job makes it hard to set down real roots, so I’ve no one waiting for me back home other than old friends that’ve survived this shitshow and are waiting for me to join them or kick the bucket.” He chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

I consider him a moment, humming. “I hope both are far off.” It’s as close as I can get right now to admitting that I respect him. That I want him to stay on and to keep working with him. More than that, I actually like him. The others are growing on me, but there’s something a little easier with Price.

He returns my gaze and it feels nice to see his eyes soften a touch. “I can guarantee one is and with you behind the scope and holding the needle, I’m confident the other is as well.” I nod, accepting the compliment and responsibility that comes with it. We talk a little more as the night goes on and it’s clear that he’s usually the designated driver on nights like this. I offer to take over for him since I don’t want any more to drink, but he refuses, telling me he’d rather keep talking than drink more and look like an idiot like the others. He says it affectionately though, clearly not minding being the responsible one as long as he’s looking after the team.

Overall, it’s not a bad evening. The bad part comes later in the form of nightmares and sweat and waking up not remembering where I am for a moment. My hand clutches tight to my shirt over my heart, feeling it thunder in my chest as my mind comes back to me and I try to calm down. “Fucking hell.” I murmur, shaking my head and sliding out of bed. I change out of my sweaty clothes into shorts and a sports bra before wandering out into the hall.

I head to the training room and lose myself in the monotony of going at a punching bag. I passed my psych eval, I’m fit for work, but sometimes things creep up on me. It’s the nature of the things we do. Though these nightmares have nothing to do with missions I’ve been on. The dull sound of my fists hitting the punching bag echoes in the room and I eventually calm down enough to stop. I slowly unwrap my knuckles as I walk back towards my room, letting them flutter into one of the trashcans scattered around base. My steps slow as my mind whirls, then I change my course.

The mess hall won’t be open yet since dawn is still about an hour away, but Price has a coffee pot in his office. He’s offered to let the team use it as long as we only touch the pot and mugs alongside it. Time to see if that offer was genuine.

It feels a bit like an intrusion as I walk into his office without him there, but Price isn’t the kind of man to say something he doesn’t mean. I make an entire pot of coffee, knowing that he’ll be up at the crack of dawn and knowing the pot will keep it warm until then. The little sounds of the machine running and dripping dark ambrosia into the glass pot are soothing with their normalcy, especially as the nutty scent fills the room. It mixes well with the leftover smell from his signature cigars and while I don’t sit down once I have my cup, I do stay as I drink my coffee, breathing in the comforting scents.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been here until I hear boots coming down the hall. My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with my second cup of coffee. The gait is familiar and I have a brief moment of panic at feeling like I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t. Instead, I take a breath and turn around to pour another cup of coffee before waiting by the door and offering it to Price as he steps in. Surprise flits through his eyes, not at finding someone here since he could probably smell the coffee from down the hall, but at finding me here.

“Thought you might’ve been Ghost. He’s the only one usually up at this time, but not usually after a night out.” He greets me and a little tingle slides down my spine at his gruff voice still rough from sleep. He takes the cup with a grateful nod while walking around his desk.

I linger by the door, still clinging to my coffee. “Woke up early today. Thanks for letting me use your coffee pot. I’ll be out in just a minute.” I tell him as he takes a sip of the coffee, shaking his head.

“You’re fine. Take your time.” He says the words easily, genuinely, and my shoulders lax before I realize how stiffly I’d been holding myself. His eyes remain on me and both of us remain standing. I’m not sure if he’s unconsciously copying me or if he’s retaining some idea of a gentleman not sitting before a woman. “How long have you been up?”

I shrug a shoulder, shifting my weight slowly from foot to foot to get rid of a bit of anxious energy. “An hour and a half? Maybe two? Needed to work out a little energy.” He hums, nodding and letting his eyes drop to his desk for a few moments. I hesitate as I think through what I’m about to say and I know he’s waiting, letting me decide without pressure. “The nightmares take me by surprise sometimes. Helps to do something physical until the memories fade.” It’s an olive branch, the words are the most vulnerable I’ve been since arrival. Nightmares aren’t abnormal around here and since Price is the only one who has read my file, I know he’ll understand what I mean.

His eyes raise to mine again and they’re gentle and nonjudgmental. “If you want to talk about it, you have my ear. If you want to sit and stay, my door is open. Sometimes the boys do the same.” It seems like such an easy offer for him to make. My fingers shift as I hold my coffee and I take a few steps closer to him, leaning my hip against one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

“And you, Captain?” I prod just a little, curious as to what he does when he has struggles.

He gives me a crooked grin. “I have good soldiers that come in and sit quietly in my office from time to time. They’re pretty good listeners.” I return his smile. It’s a trade then. Nightmare for nightmare. It’s a refreshing mindset and one that I haven’t often run into. More proof that Price is a good leader—a good man.

“Pretty fair price for a good cup of coffee.” I surprise myself by teasing and I’m rewarded by his smile widening as he takes a sip from his own cup.

“Mm. You’re welcome anytime. You make a better cup than the lot of them, anyway.” My lips press together to hide my smile at the compliment as I finish my coffee and set it aside.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I begin to drift towards the door, halting when he calls out for me.

“G.” I turn back to find him reaching into his desk and shuffling around a bit, then he walks over to me with a little box in his hands. “Sometimes it helps to remind yourself that you’re not there anymore. Find something to ground yourself afterward. Like this.” He taps the top of the box as I take it and my brows furrow at the sight of one of his cigar boxes. I open it to find it empty, but I understand what he means as the distinct scent drifts up to me. I can’t help thinking of how well I slept wrapped up in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cigars and him. My fingers quickly shut the box to keep more of the smell inside as I look up at Price with a hint of a blush in my cheeks.

“Thank you.” It’s for more than just this. It’s a thank you for being gentle with me, for being thoughtful, for doing more than a usual Captain would. His entire body seems to soften and he reaches up, lightly squeezing my shoulder with a heavy hand.

“Anytime.” He responds and it takes me a minute to pull away, his hand sliding off me as I go.

That night, I sleep holding the cigar box and breathing in the smell that’s just so…Price. I don’t have a single nightmare.

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hungermakesmonsters · 5 months

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Fourteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - very smutty (it gets messy)

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This chapter contains very vague mentions of Billy's assault by Arthur other than that, it just gets dirty. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~5.1k

A/N : This is set over a period of three weeks and I wrote a lot of it over the holidays while drinking wine which is the excuse I'm using for the smut being extra smutty. Also it's Billy's birthday! I know I say this every time, but thanks for reading!

Chapter Fourteen

You woke pressed back against Billy, his arms holding you tight against his chest. He’d been so exhausted the night before that you didn’t want to wake him, but you needed to get ready for work and you were sure he’d be needed at Anvil. Turning in his arms, you placed a hand on his cheek, lightly caressing his face with your thumb until he started to stir. The moment his eyes opened and he realised where he was, his lips pulled into a gentle smile.

“Hey,” he muttered, voice guff and sleepy.

“How did you sleep?” Thumb still tenderly brushing his cheek.

“Better than I have in years,” he answered, but still looked like he needed a few more hours. “What time is it?”

“Seven-thirty; I’ve gotta get up for work,” you yawned. “D’you want waffles?”

Billy didn’t answer. Instead his arms tightened around you, keeping you against him, his eyes shutting. “Five more minutes.”

There was something unbelievably soft about him in that moment, something cute, and you couldn’t deny him. It was strange to think that this was only the third time you’d woken up beside him because, already, you were certain you didn’t want to go back to waking up without him. With a soft sigh, you snuggled closer and closed your eyes, indulging him for five more minutes.

As promised, you made waffles and a pot of coffee, and enjoyed a little more time with him before you had to leave for work. You didn’t make plans to see him again, but Billy barely managed to make it to midday before texting to ask if he could stay over again that night, bribing you with promises of takeout. And, of course, you said yes.

It quickly became a regular thing; Billy coming round after work, eating together (sometimes take out, sometimes you’d cook), then you’d sit in front of the TV, enjoying each other's company before curling up in bed together.

You shared so many sweet moments and got to know each other - Billy even tried to explain baseball to you. (You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you still didn’t understand at the end, but you loved listening to him talk.)

“Did you ever play?” You asked, trying to picture a younger Billy in a baseball uniform, all cute rosy cheeks and devious smiles.

“Kinda - we used to play stickball since no one had a real bat,” he explained, “got to play at school though.”

“Yeah? Were you any good?”

“I used to think maybe I’d get a scholarship and go on to play in the majors,” he grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and there was a sadness in his words you didn’t understand.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I, uh - I got hurt.”

“You shoulder?” You guessed, thinking back on all the times you’d seen him twitch and shift, remembering the scar you’d never asked about. Billy winced at your realisation.

“Yeah,” he let out a sigh, “when I was about ten, maybe eleven, there was this guy who used to volunteer at the group home; used to play stickball and hoops with us, we all thought he was so cool...”

He fell silent for a second or two, but it seemed to last a lifetime. Dread coiled in your stomach and, even though you had no idea what he was going to say, you were preparing yourself for the worst.

“When he called me pretty I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t interested in the games he wanted to play,” his gaze drifted away from you, “I swung at him with the stickball bat - got him pretty good a couple of times too. Prick paid me back by breaking my arm and tearing my rotator cuff...”

Before he’d even finished, your arms were around him, holding him tight. Your heart felt like it was shattering but in all that sadness, there was something else; rage. You wanted to hurt the piece of shit who’d dared lay a hand on Billy. You wanted to kill him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding you just as tight. “I’m fine now.”

You didn’t say anything else about it - you didn’t know what you could say. So, instead, you just spent the rest of the night holding him tight, sad but happy that he’d trusted you enough to tell you.

As the days ticked by, you had more little moments with Billy, slowly getting to know each other, both revealing things you might have otherwise kept to yourself.

While watching a movie together, he noticed your gaze dropping uncomfortably as the lead character started to shed her clothes and your fingers started to pull at your sleeve. He didn’t say anything at first but, a couple of hours later you found his fingers around your wrist, his finger tracing the edge of your sleeve. When you looked up, you found an uncertain look on his face.

“What?” You asked, not sure you wanted an answer.

“I just -” he let out a slow exhale, thinking before continuing, “- I want you to know you never have to hide your scars from me. I know you don’t like people seeing them, but I want you to know that there isn’t a single part of you that I don’t think is perfect.”

“I don’t feel perfect,” but you weren’t prepared to have that conversation just yet, “but, thank you, Billy.”

“Scars don’t make you who you are, sweetheart.” He answered softly, kissing your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

It started to feel like you were getting an intensive crash course in all things Billy Russo and by the end of the second week, you were practically living together; he stayed every night, save the nights Tammy returned to the apartment. He took to taking things slowly better than you thought he would, but there were still some awkward mornings.

About a week in, you woke to find that his hand had slipped into your pyjama bottoms in his sleep, his fingers between your folds, coated in your arousal. His hard cock pressed against your ass. Half-asleep, you squirmed, trying to pull away, only to make the situation worse. His hold on you tightened, hips starting to grind against you from behind. You almost gave in as his fingers started to move.

“Billy,” you grumbled, pulling his hand from between your thighs, leaving you achingly unfulfilled.

He stirred behind you and quickly rolled away, muttering an apology as he left your room, no doubt heading for the bathroom. You tried to call after, to tell him it was okay, but he was gone before you could get the words out.

Fifteen minutes passed before he returned and, rather than getting back into bed, he sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. You gave him a moment before moving, kneeling behind him and wrapping your arms around him, not wanting him to feel bad about it.

“Come back to bed,” you muttered, pressing your lips to his bad shoulder, and pulling him until he finally relented.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as you settled beside him again, resting your head on his chest so you could listen to the beating of his heart.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I was dreaming about you,” he confessed, causing your heart to stutter in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you offered a moment later, “I know taking things slowly can’t be easy for you.”

“It’s not,” your stomach dropped, “but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and held you tight, the both of you soon falling asleep again. It happened a few more times over the following days; you’d catch him sneaking out to the bathroom, boxers uncomfortably tented. And, every time it happened, you found yourself reaching for your vibrator the moment that he’d left for the day, your own frustrations slowly getting the better of you.

But it felt like you were getting somewhere, like the thing between you was becoming something real, something that meant something.

Everything came to a head around Billy’s birthday - which, you hadn’t even realised was his birthday at the time. One day, around the three week mark, he turned up earlier than usual.

“Frank sent me home,” he explained, sounding annoyed as he kicked off his boots and hung up his coat.

“How come?”

“He’s got this stupid thing about people working on their birthdays,” he sighed, taking himself to the sofa and sitting down while you stood speechless, staring at him in confusion.

“It’s your birthday?” You were mortified - you hadn’t known, you hadn’t prepared. You hadn’t even gotten him so much as a card. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really celebrate my birthday,” he shrugged, “don’t worry about it.”

It made sense, you supposed, growing up the way he had, birthdays probably hadn’t been a big deal for him like they had been for you. But that didn’t mean that it shouldn’t be a big deal now, that you shouldn’t at least try to do something for him.

You came up with a plan, something silly and small, something you hoped Billy would appreciate. But, in true Tammy fashion, she had to throw a spanner in the works, deciding that she needed the apartment the following night so she could catch up with her friends, meaning she would be inviting people like Michelle around to get drunk.

Reluctantly, you asked Billy if you could stay at the penthouse. It was the first time you’d been back since the day you’d walked out on him and, despite all the time you’d spent with him since then, it scared you, you felt like you had less control in his space instead of your own. But it was the only option if you wanted to do something for his birthday.

Billy arranged for the doorman, Marvin, to let you into the penthouse before he got home, giving you time to set up your surprise. It was silly, really, just some balloons and a birthday cake to eat after the dinner you were going to cook for him. After setting up - getting all the food in the oven, putting some candles on the table, and tying the balloons to the backs of the chairs - you changed into a dark red dress and put up your hair, pulling it out of your face.

Then came the awkward waiting as the minutes ticked by, flitting between excitement and worry with every passing minute. What if he didn’t like it?

By the time the elevator opened, the whole penthouse smelled like roasted meat and vegetables, and Billy looked - well, he looked tired. And confused.

“What’s going on?” He asked as you moved to meet him, smoothing out your dress before helping him out of his coat. The confusion on his face deepened when he noticed the balloons.

“I know you said you don’t really celebrate your birthday,” your voice broke and your gaze dropped, anxiety clawing beneath your ribs, “it just - it didn’t seem right not to do anything, and I thought -”

“You did all this for me?”

You looked up to find the sweetest, softest smile on his lips, the sort of smile that was so rare your chest ached at the sight.

“It’s just some food and balloons,” you shrugged.

“It’s perfect,” the smile stayed firmly on his lips as he cleared the distance between you, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you.

Melting against him you completely surrendered to the kiss, to Billy. It had been so long since he’d kissed you like that, with a barely contained want that set your heart racing. You felt his fingers tangle in the fabric of your dress and, when he finally pulled back, you caught that familiar look in his eyes; he was barely holding himself back.

His dark gaze held yours, flickering and sparking with desire as you bit your lip, knowing you should pull away. But you didn’t want to. He wet his lips before leaning slowly, lips so close to yours when -

You almost jumped out of your skin as the alarm on your phone started to sound.

Billy snapped back to the moment too, letting go of your dress and taking an awkward half-step back. But, for a second longer, you held his gaze, heart still pounding, longing for what could have been.

“I should -” you started, awkwardly clearing your throat, shaking your head, “- dinner is almost ready.”

“Right,” he answered, staying exactly where he was, his hand twitching at his side, desperate to reach for you again, “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

“Right,” you forced a breath, lingering a moment more before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

Over dinner you made small talk, asking about his day, listening as he vaguely explained some of the on-going issues with Anvil. Apparently the security issue was still driving Frank crazy and, in turn, he had been stressing Billy out over it.

Once you were done eating (and after you’d sung happy birthday to Billy and made him blow out the candles on his cake) you ended up on the sofa, pressed against Billy’s side with his arm wrapped around you, watching a movie that you quickly lost interest in. After an hour or so, you lifted your head to look at him, finding him staring at you.

“What?” you asked quietly, nervously.

“You’re amazing,” he muttered softly, pressing his lips to your forehead in such a tender way that it made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, for all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you answered, pressing closer, lifting your head, “you deserve it.”

Without warning, you kissed him, knowing that there was only so much your words could say. You were gentle at first, Billy let you set the pace, let you press closer and closer, let your tongue softly brush against his own while you climbed onto his lap. He let you make all of the first moves, only speeding up when you did, waiting until you put your hands on him before he finally touched you.

One hand tangled in your hair, ruining the updo, while the other found your bare thigh beneath your dress, his touch sparking your arousal and causing a familiar heat between your thighs. You lost yourself to the moment, to him, knowing that this time there was no alarm waiting to disturb you. Your hips began to move, slowly at first but soon turning desperate, soft moans spilling from your lips once you felt the press of his erection against you.

“Billy -” you gasped against his lips, pleading for more, for all the things you couldn’t put into words.

“Are you sure?” He’d only ask once, and once you said yes there would be no going back to the calm safety of the last three weeks. He gave your hair a gentle tug, forcing you to look at him, letting him see the lust and want in your eyes when you finally answered.

“I need you,” you begged, still grinding against the hard outline of his cock, “please.”

He didn’t answer - he didn’t have to. He just kissed you fiercely, possessively, while the hand on your thigh moved upwards.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked,” he all but growled against your lips as his fingers started to touch you through wet lace. You keened, desperate and eager for his touch. “What got you so wet?”

“You, Billy.”

He grinned, rewarding you by slipping his fingers into your panties, running his thick digits through your arousal, coating them in it before, finally, sinking two into you. You cried out, your fingers gripping his shoulders as he started to fuck you with them, reminding you just what you’d been missing out on. And, once he started to work his thumb over your clit, you were a goner.

You’d have been embarrassed about coming so fast if it wasn’t for his shit-eating grin and the fact you needed to get him out of his clothes. But the moment you started to pull at his shirt, he took hold of your wrists, restraining you while he kissed you.

“Not here, I need you in my bed,” he told you in a low, breathless voice, sounding barely in control of himself.

You lost yourself in the blur that followed; Billy carrying you to the bedroom, pulling off each other’s clothes, and eventually finding yourself thrown back onto his bed, your legs open as he knelt between them. Your gaze dropped to his cock standing thick and hard; it was enough to make your mouth water.

“Not yet,” he told you, reading your mind. Lifting your leg, he started to trail kisses down your thigh, causing you to squirm in anticipation, hips lifting as he sank down. “So fucking wet and needy.”

The only answer you gave was a moan when you felt his tongue start to run through your arousal in long, slow strokes. He lapped at your dripping slit, groaning against you, reacquainting himself with your pussy before turning his attention to your clit. Your whole body shook, fingers threading through his hair and holding him close as he started to devour you. You came against his lips, crying his name and begging him for more.

Trembling, you knew Billy was only just getting started; you’d already come twice but you were longing to know what came next.

He moved up your body, lips and fingers reacquainting himself with every inch of you, until his hips were slotted between your thighs and you felt the familiar nudge of his cock at your entrance. But, instead of filling you, Billy paused.

His hesitation was palpable as he took a slow breath and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed tight.

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admitted, and your breath caught.

“Then don’t be,” you whispered, “fuck me, Billy. You won’t break me.” reaching down, you took his cock in hand and started to tease the tip through your wet folds. “I want you to fuck me.”

His fingers gripped your hip and, finally, his cock slowly began to slip inside you. After weeks of just your vibrator, having Billy inside you again was overwhelming, his impressive size stretching you like it was the first time all over again, and the two orgasms you’d already had left you feeling overstimulated. Squirming beneath him, you drew your thighs to his hips, desperate to take every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, he stilled breathing heavily.

When he didn’t move, you let out a whine and started to rock your hips, so close to coming now he was inside you again.

“Stop,” he gasped, “you’re gonna make me come too quick.”

It broke you to know he was barely holding on, that you could have that effect on him. You bit your lips as you stared up at the beautiful man on top of you, fingers running through his hair before you coaxed him down and into a slow kiss, giving him the time he needed.

When he finally started to move, he took things slowly, giving you both something you hadn’t even realised you needed. You felt every inch, every throb and twitch, you felt just how deep inside you he could reach. Everything was Billy and nothing else existed.

Each slow but purposeful thrust of his cock filled you in a way no one else ever had or would. And, when he lifted himself to kneel between your legs, changing the angle so you could feel the ridge of his shaft rubbing that special spot inside you, you couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he told you in a barely contained voice, not asking but telling.

And you did, crying out as your body submitted to him without hesitation, back arching off the bed. The look on his face turned possessive, dominant, and that should have scared you - it should have scared you how easily you’d done what he wanted, how easily you’d given yourself to him. But it didn’t. It felt so good to not overthink, to just let him take control and bring you pleasure. You kept moaning his name, writhing beneath him as he continued to lay claim to you.

“I love how wet you get after coming, just listen,” he all but growled, hips finally picking up the pace. At any other time you would have been mortified by the sounds your body was making as he drove his cock into you but, now, you only wanted more. “Only thing that sounds better is the way you moan when I come inside you.”

You’d missed his filthy mouth, missed the way it made you feel to hear all his dirtiest thoughts while he fucked you.

“I haven’t come since the last time I was inside you,” he confessed in a breathless grunt, still pounding his cock into you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. He’d waited four weeks for this, for you. (So he hadn’t been jerking off all those mornings, he’d been waiting it out.)

“Please, Billy -” you begged mindlessly, pleading with him, every fibre of your being needing, wanting.

“You want me to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” His cock hitting just the right spot, causing your legs to tremble and your back to arch.

“You want me to fill your needy little pussy with cum?” He grit out, obviously getting close to breaking point.

“Please -” you continued to beg with a desperation that surprised both of you, walls clenching around him, trying to fight off your own end.

“Say it.” He demanded in a sudden, dominant tone that sent a thrill through your whole body and left you unable and unwilling to deny him.

“Fill me with cum, Billy” you cried out without hesitation, “please - please -”

You kept begging desperately beneath him until you felt his cock twitch inside you. You cried out as you shattered, your inner walls violently convulsing around him as he continued to fuck you, spilling himself in the deepest parts of you.

Another cry tore from your lips as he hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated, you felt a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs, causing your whole body to quake.

“Fuck, sweetheart, yes,” Billy groaned, pulling at your leg so he could hit that same spot over and over again, still pounding into your as he emptied himself, his fingers frantically rubbing your clit. You felt another gush before your vision started to blur. It felt like it was never going to end, like he was going to keep you in your moment of pleasure forever. His name was the only word you could form and, when he looked at you, you both knew the truth; you were his in every way.

By the time he was done, you were a trembling, panting mess beneath him. He stayed inside you, the last of his orgasm petering away to nothing, while you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Staring down at you, he groaned at the fucked-out expression on your face.

“You did so good,” he muttered softly, leaning to press his lips to your forehead, his hand tenderly cupping your cheek. “I always wondered what it’d take to fuck your brains out.”

At any other time you would have made a joke, told him that your brains were still exactly where they were meant to be, but you were too exhausted, your body still trembling. All you could do was let out a soft whine and that did something to Billy.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he murmured tenderly, thumb softly caressing your cheek.

Kissing you softly, his tongue swept along the seam of your lips until you opened for him, giving him what he wanted, knowing there was nothing you’d deny him in that moment (or, perhaps, ever again). You moaned into his mouth, letting him kiss you as he softened inside you.

“I’m gonna pull out now, sweetheart,” he told you softly, despite the grin on his lips, “it might be messy, you made me come so hard.”

Another moan stole from your lips, your eyes closing tight as he slipped from your body, trying not to think about the wet mess he’d left between your thighs. When you dared to look, he was standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at you. Despite your embarrassment, you didn’t have the strength to close your legs.

“You look so perfect like this,” he muttered, softly placing a hand on your still-trembling thigh. A spark of thrill ran through you, loving the way he was looking at you, like you were the most perfect thing in the world to him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna take such good care of you. You just stay right there.”

Your eyes closed as he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon following. He soon returned to the bedroom to scoop you off the bed, holding you tight as he carried you into the bathroom and climbed into the tub with you, sitting behind you as he lowered you into the running water.

“Tell me if it gets too hot,” he whispered softly, pulling your hair away from your neck so he could kiss along your shoulder.

Snuggling against him, you felt yourself drifting off as the hot, bubbly water continued to rise around you. His arms wrapped around you possessively, and you’d never been happier than you were in that moment.

“Thank you, Billy,” you murmured, half-asleep.

“What for?”

“For waiting for me.”

He let out a gentle sigh. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. You’re worth every second,” pressing his lips to your neck as he spoke. “Anyway, I should be thanking you; this was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”

You smiled softly, quickly drifting off, not rousing again until you felt Billy gently washing you, soaping your arms and shoulders.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you did.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “You must’ve exhausted yourself; you put on quite a show.”

“I’ve never -” you didn’t even have the words for whatever that in bed had been, but you felt your cheeks start to warm with embarrassment, “- I mean, not like that...”

“Did you like it?” He asked, hands running over the scars on your arms, washing away the bubbles.

Giving a soft hum, you thought about it for a second. “It was intense - everything always feels more intense with you.” Then, awkwardly, after a moment's pause, you dared to ask; “did you like it - me doing... that.”

You weren’t used to candid conversations about sex, not like Billy - before him you’d always been told what you wanted, what you enjoyed, and how you were supposed to feel about it. But, with Billy, he always listened, he always gave you what you wanted, what you liked.

“I like everything you do in bed, sweetheart,” he answered, still sounding like he was smiling, like he was happy. “But, yeah, I really liked it. I’d love to do that to you again.”

Your breath caught just at the thought, allowing yourself to think about how different everything suddenly felt now that you’d taken the time to get to know each other. It meant something now - what, you weren’t sure, but as your head shifted on his chest and you heard his racing heart, you were certain Billy felt it too.

When the water started to cool, Billy pulled the plug before gently lifting you out of the tub and sitting you on the edge. He wrapped a towel around himself before starting to dry you. Every touch was meticulous but gentle and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, you found yourself blinking back tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked, finally noticing when you tried to wipe your eyes with your hand.

“No one’s ever looked after me like you do,” you sniffled, not sure why you were suddenly overcome with emotion.

He wiped your tears away with the towel before pulling his robe from the back of the door and wrapping you up in it. His arms wrapped around you and he held you tight while you fought back the urge to cry. After everything you’d been through with him, it was impossible not to feel vulnerable.

“I’ll always look after you,” he promised as he lifted you up, “nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Billy quickly whisked you back into the bedroom and sat you down in the armchair by the window while he stripped the messy bedding and replaced it with fresh linen. Then, before you knew it, you were deposited back in his bed while Billy dimmed the lights and turned on the TV before snuggling up with you.

You watched TV and dozed in his arms for the next couple of hours, until he finally turned off the lights so you could both sleep. You laid facing him, nose to nose, letting out a gentle sigh. when, without warning, he nudged your legs apart and you felt the ridge of his hard cock between your folds again.

With slow movements of his hips he teased himself against you until your arousal started to wet his cock. You mewled softly, too exhausted to do much of anything beyond what your body was already doing of its own accord. His hand soon slipped between you, directing his erection to your slickened slit.

“Billy -” you moaned as you felt his tip start to nudge its way into you, “I don’t think I can...”

He shushed you softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I just want to fall asleep inside of you. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

When you didn’t object further, you felt his cock start to slowly fill you. A soft moan spilled from you but it was quickly swallowed by his lips as he kissed you gently, tenderly. And, once he was buried inside of you, his arms held you tight against his chest.

“Mine,” Billy whispered, pressing one last sweet kiss to your lips.

And you were.

You were completely Billy’s now. You just weren’t sure how to tell him…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

END NOTES : I didn't mean for this to get so long but I didn't want to break it up. I liked playing around with them actually learning a bit about each other and functioning like a normal couple for a while. I have a bonus Christmas thing that I wanted to post earlier, but it wouldn't have worked with where the story was, so I'm probably going to be posting that on Sunday - you don't have to read it to keep up with the story though (it's just a bit of smutty xmas fun).

Anyway, as always, thank you so much for reading this, it's really great to see how many of you come by week after week and I really appreciate every single one of you!!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it's not working for everyone - if it's not working and you don't want to miss a chapter, I post pretty much every friday, though there will be a bonus chapter going up on sunday)

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo x female reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #cmiyc ff

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 6 months

Text

Baby are you drooling? (hanjisung)

Maybe if you looked away just in time he wouldn't notice. If you turned away with a quick snap of your neck he wouldn't realise you were ogling him like some maniac, nevermind the sound of your neck snapping from the fast movement. "Baby are you drooling?". Shit.

Jisung comes up to you with wide eyes and a not so much as a satisfied smirk but a genuinely surprised smile at your flustered expression and actual saliva droplets pooling at the sides of your mouth and beneath your bottom lip. You had seen him topless countless times, not even just in a sexual context too, it was just that your boyfriend would randomly walk around his apartment or yours with his shirt off just because.

This time was no different. He had just walked out of the shower and walked in your room, an off white colored towel wrapped tightly around his waist and another one he was using to dry his hair as he caught you staring at him in a slight trance. He was just so good looking you couldn't help it, no matter how many times you'd see him shirtless it hit you every time like the first one: abs. For days. An immaculate, perfectly toned, round, firm and sculpted broad chest. Abs. Biceps and triceps and fucking everything - ceps. Abs. Truly, you loved everything and anything about him and still couldn't quite grasp just how on earth you managed to pull someone like him, whose body proportions were absolutely perfect. It almost made you envious, what a perfect body he had.

"Are you still there? Earth to y/n? Baby? Babe? Hellooo?". Jisung quickly snaps his fingers in your face, trying to shake you from your trance like state, succeeding after a few tries, "yah! Sorry!! I'm sorry! I was kinda mesmerized there for a second!", you admit abashed, pointing vaguely to his torso and he chuckles, leaning in to peck your lips, "you are so cute", he breathes out, his voice a little raspy before he kisses you once or twice, "you're also pretty good at making me flustered, usually. I'm glad I could finally beat you to that", he adds then, chuckling at your still dazed state, "you know what you could also beat me to? A nice work out session".

Jisung stops rubbing the towel in his hair at that and looks at you half stunned half suspiciously for you never once mentioned ever doing any physical excersice ever since you started dating, "a work out session?" he repeats uncertain, hair falling in his face, eyebrows knitting in that confused cartoon like expression, "yeah! Or multiple ones! Maybe I should just come along with you and Channie and Binnie whenever you guys go to the gym, I mean if that's alright with you, I wouldn't want to impose",you offer, shrugging, and Jisung just nods at that, a still unsure expression plastered all over his face.

"Sure, you are welcome to come anytime you want and I can even ask Changbin hyung to come up with a structured work out plan for you if you'd like but … May I just ask why? Why do you suddenly want to start exercising? Have you been feeling unwell? Have you been feeling sick more frequently? I honestly don't even remember the last time you caught a cold", he asks all at once, making you giggle and shake your head no, "I'm fine! I'm absolutely fine. I just want to have nice abs like you, that's all! I'm okay with my weight I guess, I just wish I didn't have all these rolls", you admit frowning, pulling up your shirt to reveal the soft skin rolls barely overlapping on your tummy, poking at them with a disgusted look on your face.

At least until your boyfriend squats your hands away and falls on his knees right in front of you, grasping your sides very firmly, peppering kisses all over your tummy, "don't you dare do anything to my little pouch! This is mine, my pillow, my softest comfiest head rest, my belly to put babies in, my treasure!!", he exclaims dramatically, holding on to you so tight when you actually burst into laughs you can barely move from his grip and the shakes reverberate through his arms too.

"Hahaha babe, it's okay I just want to be healthier", you try and reassure both him and yourself, seeing how much of a reaction you elicited in him, "but you are healthy! You're so healthy! You have more stamina than I do most days and you always go on walks and never fall ill to anything, you're so so healthy!", he insists, looking at you with the biggest eyes, still not letting go of you, "then why do I have all this excess skin, mmh? Why do I have to physically tuck my belly in whenever I wear high waisted jeans, why do I look like I have a balloon underneath my shirt after every meal? I'm not sure I'm that healthy".

You frown once again, stubbornly poking at your belly button until Jisung removes your fingers from there and clasps them tightly in his hands: "you are healthy. Period. I might not had the chance to go to regular school when I was younger but I did graduate! I know organs need space! That is NOT excess skin that is a very normal amount of skin protecting your stomach and your intestines and allowing them to sit comfortably in there! You get bloated after you eat cause you mostly eat at work in very short breaks and don't have enough time to fully recover and digest! My brother's girlfriend went trough the same, the minute she started working from home and drinking more water and go on little walks shortly after her meals her tummy stopped bloating! Worked like magic".

As soon as he stops talking you do actually realise he might just be right: you do indeed always eat rather quickly at work, inhaling your food along with so much air while never leaving your desk, busying yourself with work even when you're supposed to take a breather and enjoy your break. You never really paid that much attention to it before, you only started noticing your inflated tummy and the way it made you feel insecure in your tighter clothes.

"Okay. You're right, you're actually very right about that. But.. I would like to have a little contouring here, just cause it looks so nice on you and maybe I can try and work out a little during my lunch break so I can train myself in taking better care of myself and do something other than work while I eat, and maybe also help my digestion along the way. I could like eat something lighter before work, have a little upper body session in the break room and then eat my lunch calmly, AWAY from my computer".

Jisung smiles so broadly at you and pecks your lips over and over, "that's my reasonable baby! If you still want to come along to the gym to learn a few new techniques, you absolutely can! Though I will ask you to work out away from me, you can enjoy your session with Chan and Changbin hyung", he adds, finally letting go of your fingers only for his hands to now roam free underneath your shirt that has hiked up your sides and your belly button, "why? Why can't I work out with you? Or even next to you?", you ask, and now it's you being the really confused one, "because", Jisung kisses your lips quite passionately, gently grazing them with his teeth, "I already know I won't be able to do shit with you around", he mumbles lowly, his mouth finding the sweet spot just beneath your ribcage.

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deangirlsstuff67 · 1 year

Text

Death Confessions

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, soft Dean, language, mentions of smut, mentions of death

Summary: the boys and you are on a hunt only things don't go according to plan...

---------------------------------------

You hate witches. Can't stand the miserable pricks.

Tonight, you and the boys had finally tracked down the local witch in town. Or should you say witches. Plural. And oh yeah, ex lovers as well.

The pair had decided to wage an all out war on one another and didn't seem to care that innocent people were getting hurt in the cross fire.

At some point during the battle, you were struck with a spell. You didn't think anything of it because nothing happened. The boys killed the pair while you were recovering from the blow and you got the hell out of town.

It's been 3 hours into your drive and you aren't feeling so hot anymore.

What the fuck did they do to you.

You're shivering but hot to the touch. Your stomach is in knots. And every time the oldest Winchester looks at you in the rear view mirror, you feel your underwear dampen.

Sam's asleep in the front seat and Dean is humming along with ACDC as he drives you all back to the bunker.

You don't want to panic anyone so you decide to wait it out. Rowena and Crowley are there currently and you're sure she will know what to do.

-------------------------------------------------------

Another 3 hours and the impala is pulling into the underground garage the bunker has. You've managed to pretend as if your sleeping to keep the boys from worrying.

Sam turns around to wake you when he notices somethings wrong.

Very wrong.

You're covered in a thin layer of sweat. You're burning hot to touch. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, and you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Dean, something is wrong with y/n." Sam yells at his brother, who is unloading your crap from the trunk.

Dean comes running around to your door and opens it, almost ripping it off its hinges. Seeing you in this state makes his blood boil with concern and a protectivness. Reaching in he gentle cradles you to his chest and with Sam's help gets you into the bunker.

Dean's gruff voice breaks through the fog in your mind. His strong arms feel like bliss as he hold you close. His aftershave surrounds you, making your mouth water. A small moan slips from your lips as you feel your walls clench around nothing.

"Sammy go get Rowena. Tell her y/n was hit by one of the witches. I'm taking her to my room."

You vaguely feel him place you in his bed and cover you in his blankets. His scent is all around you and it's clouding your mind with nasty thoughts about the green eyed hunter.

You've always had a crush on Dean. He's charming, built like a damn model, and treats you as if you're the most precious thing on this earth.

Sadly, the womanizing Winchester has never looked at you more than a best friend. You hang, watch movies together, train once in a while, and he cooks you amazing meals. Nothing more than friends, and you're okay with that.

Better than nothing.

Whatever they hit you with is bringing out your desire for Dean. The same desire you buried deep down and try to avoid at all costs.

Another moan slips out as you feel slick running down your thigh.

Fuck this is embarrassing.

Just then, Sam returns with Rowena in tow. Thank God. Please make it go away. He can't find out like this.

"Oh dear. Sweetie what are you feeling?" Out of all the witches you've developed a soft spot for the red head in front of you. Sure she always has an end game that benefits her, but the woman is strong and resilient. You've got to respect that.

"Cold and uncomfortable." You don't know how else to describe it without completely embarrassing yourself.

Rowena exams you. You see when she clues in. The knowing smirk on her face.

"Well the good news is she will be fine. However," she looks over at the boys then, "someone will have to stay with her tonight and help her work it out of her system."

Dean and Sam share a confused look before Sam speaks up, "what?"

"It's simple. For whatever reason the witch cast a fuck or die spell. I'm sure y/n here wasn't their target but either way she needs to fuck it from her system or she will die in 24 hours."

Your eyes go wide as you listen, "I'm sorry, what?!?"

"It's the only way Dear."

"No. There has to be something else you can do Rowena. Anything else." You were too busy freaking out to catch the look of disappointment the crossed Dean's face. However, Sam wasn't. Even though the oldest Winchester never admitted it out loud, Sam knew how his brother felt about you.

"Y/N it's okay. Dean can stay with you and help you any way you allow." The younger brother said before he motioned for Rowena to follow him out of Dean's room. Leaving you and the green eyed hunter alone.

--------------‐-------------------------------------------------------

"Y/N let me help you." At this point the spell has gotten so bad you won't allow Dean to touch you. Which is of course frustrating the living hell out of him.

"No, Dean its okay."

"The fuck it is. You're dying and I can help. Why won't you let me?"

"It's too much to ask from you. We're friends Dean but even friends have limits."

"If it saves you I'm willing to do anything!" He's temper has taken over. Not understanding why you won't let him save you.

What the hell, you're dying anyway.

"Are you serious Dean!" You're outburst shocks him. He goes to speak but you cut him off.

"No Winchester, shut up and listen. For three years I've watched you take home girl after girl. For three years I've sat at that table or in your Baby and listened as you told us everything you did with them the night before. Not once complaining. Not once telling you how jealous I fucking was. I'm not your type and I get it. But don't think for one minute I will throw away the closet thing I'll ever have with you just to save my life." You point your finger in his direction as you continue.

"I fucking love you dumbass. I've been waiting, hoping you'd see me more as what we are. Hoping you'd get your head out of your ass and see that I'm the perfect girl for you. I'm a freaking hunter. I know the life and the risks. But no, instead you waltz every bimbo you can in front of me like some prized fucking pig."

Before you can continue chewing him a new asshole Dean pounces on you. Strong finger tangle in your hair and his soft lips dominate yours. The surprise subsides and you begin to kiss him back.

"You done yelling at me sweetheart? Cause I got something to say. I've loved your snarky ass since the moment you told me to blow you three years ago when we crossed paths on the vampire hunt. I love everything about you and I only ever got with those women because I knew you could do better than me. I'm not worth the pain y/n, but God dammit if you feel the same than why not try. "

He pushes his large erection into your wet core. You can't help but moan at the feeling. Dean smirks down at you.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to fuck you good and hard for as long as we need to so we can save your life. Then I'm going to make you breakfast before I spend the day worshiping this beauty body how I should. You okay with that princess?"

"Don't call me princess."

"Shut up and kiss me woman."

And kiss you did. Every part of your body as he did exactly as he promised. Fucking you in every position. When he's big, fat cock needed a break he was making you cum with his tongue or fingers. Over and over again until your body began to go back to normal and fatigue set in.

When you woke in his warm, safe arms you found Dean staring at you. You've never seen his eyes shine so bright.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah I am. Thank you." You lean up and kiss him.

"Let's get you some food." He jumps out of bed and walks to his dresser, finding you one of his shirts. You through it on before you walk out of his room hand in hand.

Sam is already sitting at the table when you walk in together. He looks up from his tablet and just smiles.

"Shut up Sammy." Dean barks as he swats your ass and begins to get the ingredients for breakfast.

"I'm just happy Dean. You got your girl and we didn't lose y/n."

Dean looks over at you and smiles. Fuck you love that man.

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Taglist:

@syrma-sensei @yvonneeeee @nancymcl @foxyjwls007 @lessons-of-red @senjoritanana @leigh70 @tristanrosspada-ackles @maggiegirl17 @neii3n

#jensen ackles #dean girl #dean winchester #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x you #deanwinchtser #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x original female character #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester smut

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crumblinggothicarchitecture · 1 month

Note

Seeing people genuinely saying that TTPD is her best work lyrically and that it tops Folklore and Evermore is just WILD to me. Like, am I missing something? Are there two different versions of this album out and I’m listening to the bad one? Because???? TTPD is such a let down. It’s not clever, it’s not even catchy. I like one song and the rest are kind of…are forgettable. I heard “like a tattooed golden retriever” and burst out laughing-like there’s no way we went from folklore and evermore to THAT. I had to stop listening because I just don’t like it. I don’t get it and I’m tired of people telling me that I’m too dumb to understand her genius. I don’t think this album is genius by any means-that’s not to say it doesn’t make sense (although it doesn’t make sense to me at times) but mostly I just don’t get it in terms of like why and what happened to the beautiful writing of folklore and evermore to…this. Folklore and evermore actually resonated with me on such an emotional level and it felt very adult and like Taylor was nuanced in her writing and that she moved on from all her problems stemming from men and “jealous women” and now TTPD just feels like I revisited one a conversation I’ve had with my friends in middle school thinking we were so deep and misunderstood.

Yeah, listen... you're not missing anything

I truly think that the people enjoying the album are blinded by the aesthetic of the album. She's obfuscating the poor writing, and basically incoherent imagery, by using the watered-down cottage core/ dark academia aesthetics. It's almost laughable the way she changes everything about herself just to fit the most popular aesthetic of the day.

She hides bad writing by name-dropping great writers and hoping that, through the power of vague allusion, the names alone will make people think she's in the same league.

She was guilty of this back on Folklore, as well. To be honest the first time I heard "tell me what are my Wordsworth" ("The Lakes), I laughed out loud because it's sooooo silly to make a pun out of one of the most important Romantic Poets of all time. I let it slide back then, because I thought it was a one-off. Still, it's really funny that she apparently knows who Wordsworth is, yet the best she can do with that information is make a pun out of his name.

And now I see her name-dropping, lack luster writing is just the best she can do. I hate that she really thinks of herself as a poet....

As someone who has studied poetry, and written literary criticisms about Emily Dickinson's poetry, it actually makes me angry to see she compares herself to Dickinson. I'm gonna write a post about that problem too.

I have a lot more to say about the gross lyricism of this album.

I have several different analyses that I plan to publish soon.... because it makes me so angry the way she is such phony-baloney nonsense.

More to the point, I'm angry I fell for it. All the use of intense aesthetics and the money she pours into promo, and I fell for it. I was a fan.

Not anymore.

#taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #anti taylor swift #ex swiftie #anti swifties #folklore

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system-of-a-feather · 6 months

Text

Honestly, real talk, I feel like people largely do not understand just how much characters within those who are maladaptive daydreamers and/or were maladaptive daydreamers literally are "parts of them" and how both healing and destructive that dynamic can be and I find that a bit visible with how people in DID communities talk about maladaptive daydreaming as a "form of plurality"

Its an absolutely different experience but that doesn't mean that the label of "plural" isn't equally suitable. Since that topic has come up on our radar like way back half a year or year ago, we honestly have been thinking about it as someone who is considered "recovered" from DID and has recovered from maladaptive daydreaming but still has a brain that functions creativity and imaginative worlds with the same semi-autonomous functions whether I like it or not

And honestly? My characters are very much not "my creation", nor are they "just my OCs" - the very way all of my character are made and at this point the only way I know how to write and make characters is by taking a part or aspect of myself (conscious or subconscious) and throwing it out there with a name and face. That part of myself engages with the world I created and develops within the narrative and impacts the world itself.

I repeat and do this for all my characters and the world that I have created serves as a hypothetical exploratory way to understand, engage with, and explore very complex topics with exaggerated and isolated parts of myself. I have never really "planned" a character of given them traits or really anything other than a basic premise of a name, MAYBE a gender, and a vague role and I let them define their own story. No real character arc planning. No real likes and dislikes. No real narrative or secret message.

The function and means of which that I "created" these OCs and the level of which I don't control the way they form and grow is extremely similar to how I "create" alters, albeit one is far more voluntary and intentional than the other and one is physically sharing my life with me and the other is sharing a mental world with me.

((Additionally I don't engage in the mental world I made for them beyond the half joke that I'm the god of the gods of that world and they dont know))

The dynamics I have with my characters is WAY WAY WAY different than my parts / alters but BOTH my characters (maladaptive daydreaming) and my alters (DID) are equally fair to call "parts of me" and "parts of a whole" in a very literal not "Oh yeah Im a writer and this character means a lot to me theyre a part of me"

With my writing partner (who does this as well) we regularly use our characters as well to explain what we are going through / how we are feeling to help facilitate real talk and venting a lot because we have a mutual understanding that while this is a story and these are our characters, both of us have "built" this world by literally giving very specific aspects of ourselves the ability to explore, grow, and learn in a world and that while some have grown SO far from who we are now, they represent an aspect and potential part of us that could have been should something have gone one way in a specifically extreme way in a specific environment.

With that in mind, I absolutely feel its fair to compare DID and MaDD "plurality" with some obvious understanding that while there are similarities they are also different (AND THATS OK).

Cause honestly? If I actually talked to my characters (like a lot of people with MaDD tend to do) I could see myself calling and feeling as though they were a system and I don't think it would be all that inaccurate and wrong. I don't have that experience as my MADD and DID are mostly entirely two seperate dissociative coping mechanisms, but I know for a fact the line between the two is a lot less clear and its just food for thought

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[SYSCOURSE AND DEBATE WILL BE BLOCKED.]

[Good faith conversation and discussion is WELCOMED and ENCOURAGED.]

[If you don't know the difference, don't add on.]

#alter: fei #alter: riku #maladaptive daydreaming #plurality #plural #conversysion #sysconversation #sys conversation #system discussions #syscourse #<- for reach because I don't think the new tags have gotten well known enough #actuallydid #dissociative identity disorder

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apocalypseornaw · 1 year

Text

I Want You

Dean makes it back from Hell and sees the changes between you and Sam so he decides to help push you two back together

Part 2 to Bad Idea

If only it was as simple as saying goodbye to a Winchester. The day after you'd left Sam you ended up going west to help out some hunters Bobby knew and trusted in Washington state. You needed a change of scenery.

About two months had passed when one night your phone ringing woke you up from a dead sleep. You rolled over, grabbing for your phone where it was charging on the nightstand "Hello?" You vaguely registered the fact that you hadn't checked the caller id and probably should've used one of your aliases when you answered but fuck sleep had idled your brain a little.

The voice that hit your ears made you think for a second you were still asleep and just dreaming "Hey sweetheart" "Dean?"

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You drove through the night to make it to Bobby's. The moment you stepped out of your mustang the front door opened and a very much alive Dean came walking out onto the porch. You approached hesitantly, friend or not the thought lingered of every monster this could be just wearing Dean's face.

Bobby appeared behind him in the doorway "Do ya need the silver and holy water test?:" you met Dean's eyes and shook your head slowly. Just the way he watched you was familiar "This is Dean" you grinned and when he opened his arms for a hug you dove into them. "Good to see ya too" he spoke into your hair.

When you pulled back you touched his stomach gingerly "I'm good" he promised then cut his eyes back at Bobby before saying "He told me you and Sam haven't spoke for months?"

You met Bobby's gaze and fought the urge to squirm, he'd been the closest thing you had to a father and you hated lying to him about anything. "Yeah" you couldn't tell Dean about Ruby or the blood. You sleeping with Sam was on the lowest side of the list of things you'd be hiding from Dean.

He nodded "Can you help me run him down?" Christ when had you gotten so close to these two? You couldn't very well tell Dean no. He meant too much to you and even this long later the memory of his stomach torns to shreds made your heart ache "Of course"

You were exhausted down to your very soul. Months had passed since Dean got back topside. Months full of fights, rather against Demons and angels or the many fights you'd gotten dragged into that was Sam and Dean fighting.

At least Ruby was dead. That was the silver lining in the chaos. Sam and Dean were working to rebuild some of the trust and you were simply struggling to keep your head above water. The love you had for the boys and Bobby meant you were dragged into every small altercation not to mention Sam had noticeably not even attempted to mention what had happened.

You were asleep curled up on the couch in Bobby's living room. You'd found a moment to catch your breath and planned to use it to your advantage. You needed to get back on the road, hunts were plentiful but dammit Bobby's was safe and comfortable.

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"So why are you and Y/N avoiding being alone?" Dean had noticed it multiple times but when he'd asked you once you'd pushed it off on simply being because of Ruby and the demon blood. It felt like more than that. Something had changed between the two of you and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Sam shrugged, looking out the window. "A lot happened when you were gone" Dean raised an eyebrow "More than you've already told me?" Sam rubbed a hand across his face "You know how I've felt about her. Since a year or two after Jess died"

"And?" Dean pushed knowing for you and Sam alike someone had to out stubborn both of you and he was the perfect person for the job. "And she came and found me after you died, after me and Bobby went our separate ways for a while" "and what? You two fought or something?" Sam scoffed "or something"

Dean knew that tone. "Son of bitch....you slept with her" Sam nodded "and let her leave then continued messing with Ruby and lost up any chance I ever had with her" "Has she said that?" The moment Dean asked it Sam looked sideways at him "No...but" Dean cut him off "Why not and I know I sound like a hypocrite here but why not try talking to her? Worse case scenario she tells you that you did lose any chance"

Sam shrugged "I don't know. I don't want to push her any further away from me"

Mornings at Bobby's were always the closest to calm you could find, most mornings anyways. This particular morning you'd woken up to the fed line ringing so you'd jumped up to answer it.

You'd just hung up from confirming one of David's aliases when Bobby walked into the room with two coffee mugs in his hand "Got that covered?" He asked nodding towards the phone as he held one of the mugs out to you.

"Yeah just some local fuzz wanting to clear David. From the sound of it he's working a wendigo case" he nodded, watching as you took a sip of your coffee. "Something up?" You questioned but he shook his head "Made it to your liking?" You nodded but the question threw you off because Bobby had long since known how you take your coffee.

"Well I know you and Sam ain't exactly seen eye to eye in a while so I figured I'd let you know that him and Dean are headed this way" You groaned slightly "So if I shower really quick and hit the road?" He knew the unasked question "You were never here"

"You really are awesome Bobby!" You told him with a smile as you grabbed your bag and ran up the stairs carefully to avoid spilling your coffee in pursuit of a shower.

You were at your trunk, loading your duffle bag when that familiar rumble hit your ears and you cursed under your breath "Damn I shouldn't have tried to blow dry my damn hair"

You glanced over your shoulder to see the impala pulling to a stop not far from where you stood. You plastered a smile onto your face when the driver's door swung open first "Hey Dean!" You greeted trying to determine rather you should close your trunk or not.

He motioned to your mustang "You heading out?" You shrugged "Yeah. I found a couple cases" he looked towards Sam then back at you "I'm gonna head in, talk to Bobby but if you can wait an extra minute or two we could roll out with you or you could take Sam with you and I could catch up?"

Yeah you weren't taking Sam to head out on cases you'd just made up "I'll wait for ya and text Garth in the meantime to double check that no other hunters are closer to those cases than we would be" "In that case you kids play nice, I'll be back"

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Sam watched your eyes track Dean up the stairs but the moment he opened his mouth in an attempt to talk you were suddenly very interested in doing an inventory of your trunk.

"Y/N" the moment he spoke your name he saw your shoulders tense. "Yeah Sam? What's up?" You asked turning to glance over at him and he felt his stomach flip at the mere indifference you seemed to now have towards him.

"I'm sorry" his voice was low but he knew you heard him. "You have nothing to apologize for. You've done your twelve steps on the addiction Sam. We all agreed to move forward" "I'm sorry for not coming to find you" your shoulders tensed even further "Still not something to apologize for, you want what you want"

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You were trying not to show emotion, busying yourself with checking salt rounds, holy water and other supplies that Bobby had plenty of should you need to restock.

"I want you" the words fell from Sam's lips as if he believed them to be the clearest of truths and you couldn't take it anymore. You slammed the trunk down then spun to face him "You have one hell of a way of showing people you want them then. You fucked me, told me goodbye and went right back to Ruby. I was called when you and Dean chose different sides over that bitch. She's been dead for weeks Sam, weeks and I haven't gotten so much as a call or text from you. Anything that's come up Dean has called me. You're not fucking anyone and you're sober. You haven't made a move to talk to me before this particular moment in time. It's pretty obvious to anyone that I'm not actually something you wanted. You just needed a fix that night and couldn't get blood out of your demon so you settled for sex out of me"

You saw the look pass through his eyes and knew you'd hit a nerve. Those damn puppy eyes of his were almost enough to make you falter but the memory of his lips on your body and how much that night had been prominent in your mind and your heart helped you to stay steady.

"It's ok Sam. I'm not mad at you. I still love you as a matter of fact. I will fight for you and for Dean but I know what happened did because of what you were going through"

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"Y/N.." he took a step towards you but you cut him off by holding a hand up "Please, I'll let you talk but you've got to give me some breathing room here Sam"

He nodded "When I woke up that next morning you were already gone. Did I want to chase you? Yeah, Of course. Did I know i was already too far gone to not drag you down with me? Yeah. It's not a damn excuse but I couldn't risk you getting involved with everything anymore than you would already be just from caring about us"

"I can take care of my damn self Sam. I didn't need you coddling me then or now" you interrupted despite your promise to let him talk. He took a step towards you and you let him, keeping the cool metal of your car at your back "I know that. I know you don't need me protecting you. I know you can handle damn near anything that gets thrown your way. I've always loved that about you but I couldn't lose anyone else I loved. Dean was gone, Bobby and I weren't talking. I had to make sure you went back to Bobby because that's where you were safest"

There was barely two feet between the two of you by that point, you hadn't realized Sam had moved closer with every word. You crossed your arms across your chest in an attempt to keep yourself from crossing the space that was left.

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Sam looked from you to where your phone was hanging heavily in the pocket of your jacket "I'm guessing those cases were fake considering you've yet to text Garth?" You shrugged "Was the best excuse I could come up with on the spot. Dean has a habit of seeing through my bullshit"

He had to laugh at that considering Dean had in fact seen through both of yours bullshit was the entire reason he had this chance to make a plea. "I wanted to come after you, I know too little too late but I did. I know you may not care but I didn't sleep with Ruby after that. Blood yes, sex no"

You were purposely keeping your eyes glued behind him, focusing on the impala "Ok" damn you were stubborn as hell. Normally he'd mark that as one of your good qualities and as a hunter it was but now? He wished that stubbornness would falter just a little.

"You've been who I've wanted. For a while now you've been the only one I really wanted. You sought me out, I never expected to see you that night then when you kissed me first? I saw a sliver of myself that I thought I'd buried with Dean. The way you let me touch you, the marks I carried for over a week from your nails. It all reminded me of who I really am, where I really belong. I want you in whatever way you'll have me. Rather it be a friend or rather it be more because I love you"

When you finally let your eyes drift back towards him he saw the uncertainty in your eyes "I know you love me Sam. I love you too and Dean" he shook his head "I don't mean I love you like that. I mean that if it's the last thing I do if you'll just give me one more chance, give us a chance I could be the man you deserved. I could make you happy. If you just tell me what you want here?"

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You stood there in shock, staring at Sam. He loved you? With every moment that passed filled with your silence you saw his face fall "If you don't want me that's not gonna change the fact that you'll always be one of the most important people in the world to me. I hope you'll at least be my friend again"

You took a deep breath "You asked what I want?" He nodded so you pushed away from your car, taking a step towards him and smiled slightly when he didn't move "I want to see Bobby retire and not die bloody. I want to see Dean have a home outside of baby here. I want to put down every evil son of a bitch I can and save however many people I can. I want one day to know that hunters are back to the basics of simple vampires or hauntings. More than anything what I want in this moment is for you to kiss me like you mean everything you just said because god dammit Sam Winchester I love you too"

He closed the space between you in a breath and was crashing his lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss and the next thing you knew he was picking you up and walking back to your trunk. He sat you down gently, never breaking away from your lips. You pulled him closer deepening the kiss.

When the need for air drove you apart he moved to your neck, kissing the spots he knew would pull a moan from your lips. One of your hands slipped under his shirt, fingernails grazing his toned stomach. A throat being cleared made you both snatch apart like you'd been shot at.

Dean was standing on the top step shaking his head "Well damn I said play nice not play house" you laughed as Sam laid his head over against your chest, his laughter shaking you both. "I'd say go to hell Dean but it spit you back out once already"

He laughed "Good point. Hows about I give you two the key to the motel room I got two towns over and I'll crash here with Bobby?" Sam raised his head to look at his older brother who simply grinned "I know, I'm awesome. Now grab the key and go spend some time with Y/N"

@dragjunkie23

#sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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