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#if anyone talks to me about tenses i'll come out SWINGING
stevebabey · 1 year
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not if it’s you.
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word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]
You’re bone-deep tired.
The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.
It’s been a hell of a night.
You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.
It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.
The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.
Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.
The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.
But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.
Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.
It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.
So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.
He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.
Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.
“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”
The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.
“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”
Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.
“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”
Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.
“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”
The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”
He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.
You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.
If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought. 
You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.
He lets you pull him to his feet.
One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.
They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.
Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.
Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.
It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”
I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.
“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.
There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.
He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.
The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?
But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.
The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.
Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.
Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.
But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.
Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.
Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.
You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.
But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.
It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.
But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.
Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt. 
The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.
“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.
“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?” 
Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.
“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.
He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.
You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.
Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.
There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.
Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.
Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.
More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.
But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,
You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.
You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.  
It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.
But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.
He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.
It doesn’t stop him from loving you.
Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.
“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”
Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”
This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.
The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.
When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.
You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.
“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.
He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it. 
“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.
“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.
Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.
But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.
“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”
What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.
The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”
He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.
“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.
Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength. 
You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.
But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone. 
“Steve, you’re not okay.”
“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”
“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”
The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.
“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”
“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”
His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.
A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.
Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain. 
“Steve.”
“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.
“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”
You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.
Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.
“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.
How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly. 
“Can you just...let me take care of you?”
It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?
Silence stains the air.
“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”
Another beat of quiet.
“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.
Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.
It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.
As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.
Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.
When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.
If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.
You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.
Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.
You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.
Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.
“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”
It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.
It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.
For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.
He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.
The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.
You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.
It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.
Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.
Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.
Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.
A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.
He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side. 
He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.
But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.
The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.
You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.
“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.
You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.
You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.
Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.
You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?
Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.
“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”
He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”
“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.
“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.
“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.
“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.
“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”
He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves. 
Oh.
Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.
His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.
The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.
Steve Harrington is lonely.
When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.
His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.
“Why did this happen to me?”
It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.
“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“
“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”
“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show. 
“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”
Something twists painfully in your stomach.
“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.
The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“
You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.
Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.
It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.
“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.
“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.
Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.
“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”
His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.
“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”
A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.
You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.
Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.
Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.
Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.
“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”
You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies. 
“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.
He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.
Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.  
“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.
Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.
Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that. 
You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.
The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.
You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.
He does.
You stop moving.
His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.
You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.
Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.
“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.
His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.
Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.
“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.
You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.
You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”
There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.
His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.
The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.
You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.
“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”
You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.
“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.
Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.
That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.
Nancy had given him the thump of his head.
But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.
“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”
And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.
Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.
He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.
When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.
But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.
Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.
There are no nightmares that night.
tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie​ look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3
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soahbee · 3 months
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Big update I Christmas Gathering
IM HERE FOR UPDATE FINALLY!! I'm sorry in advance if it's long, maybe I'll post it for you girls in two parts <33
So I arrived a little late to the Christmas gathering, I had prepared too much. I was wearing a white ruffled skirt and a white shirt over which I wore a knitted vest + long black platform boots. (I like this style)
When I arrived, the celebration was already in full swing, dad loves these kinds of gatherings, he had already decorated the house, so it was really a Christmas atmosphere. Of course, I immediately noticed R, who was talking to a couple of people in the living room, and girls couldn't believe how good he looked even in a weird Christmas sweater. haha His hair was slicked back and a few strands hung in his eyes and he was wearing black linen pants. I love seeing a different side of him outside of school.
Since everyone was drinking and in a good mood, I quickly went to the kitchen to relieve my tension, bc I honestly didn't know many people at this big party, so far there were only small gatherings for a close circle of friends, but now I saw several strangers here, who of course knew who I was bc my father's acquaintances, but it was so awkward to introduce myself at the beginning. mehhhh
I started drinking some champagne to get rid of my anxiety and started talking to a couple of women who might have been the same age as R, idk, the point is that I was almost the youngest lol... However, they were very nice to me and I started to feel better, BUT then you won't believe it, they started talking about mens. AHH and my stomach immediately lurched as his name was said it this conversasion.🙄
A part of me knew that R was quite popular among women because, well…his a "dilf", as the women called him in the kitchen, (lol) but the reality still annoyed me and slapped me in the face that yes, R could actually get anyone here at the party. No matter how much I prepared, no matter how much I hoped like an idiot, there are much better, older, more mature women in the world than me. I was so immersed in my dark thoughts that I didn't even notice that I wasn't drinking my first champagne. lol
Just imagine, one of them just randomly interrupted my overthinking with the question of whether I like someone. I just said no quickly. What can I say to this? That "Yes, I like R?" Absolutly not!!😭 No one in my father's circle of acquaintances will know. Good heavens, what would dad do if he found out? But they didn't leave the subject and kept asking questions, and I awkwardly just smiled while they giggled in front of me. They were in a good mood, they enjoyed the Christmas party and I don't blame them, maybe I didn't handle the situation properly and kept away from them. I then poured myself another champagne, but then all three women immediately remained silent, which was very strange, I felt I had done something, but omg, the girls didn't remain silent because of me...
"Ladies, hold back a bit" - he said
I knew right away that R was behind me and I immediately turned around, even though I didn't want to, but it was instinctive. At first, he didn't look at me, but only at the friends of the three girls (or, idk, maybe acquaintances), then the girls just laughed and started talking, but I don't even remember what bc I wasn't paying attention to them.
After that, R immediately looked at me with a big smile and said: "There you are! I thought you wouldn't come"
I'm sure he's been drinking, he's much more direct at this time and he's obviously very happy for me. I told him I had some things to do but I'm here. Then I saw that his eyes were strikingly running over me and he said to me:
"You are so pretty today!"
MY PLAN WAS SUCCEEDED AND HE COMPLIMENTED MY OUTFIT😭
I thanked him for the compliment and after the girls went away he asked if they were very intrusive with me, bc unfortunately when they drink they tend to ask too many questions and he saw that I was tense and I quickly told him that there was nothing wrong, it was just a bit much at once . I then looked at him and added that he also looks good, and he laughed and said: "Your dad gave me a really ugly hoodie and you think I look good?"
Since he was right, I had to laugh at that and told him that this is still better than my set, bc don't have a big hoodie that would have a Christmas atmosphere and I know that dad asked for it separately, bc this is dress code. Then comes the big WTF!!! He just drank into his glass and after that he said:
"I have two, would you like my other hoodie?"
To be honest, girls, I didn't know what to say to that, I might have very stupid face bc R laughed and playfully patted my head and continued: "I thought I could get away with a plain burgundy hoodie, but your father needed something uglier than that, so I'm not wearing it, but if you want, I'll give it to you, even though it might be a little big on you."
My brain switched quickly and I told him that, of course, at least this way I wouldn't hang out so much from the line, and after that he gave it to me and I hid in it and we laughed about how much bigger the hoodie for me. But I was so happy, I could smell him all night and it felt like there was something between us bc I was in his hoodie. After that, I completely relaxed with him, I was very relieved that he wasn't angry with me, as you know we hadn't spoken for four days before that and I was a little worried that bc of that I had written him something unpleasantly stupid last time. But luckily I didn't feel anything bad, in fact it was quite strange that he enjoyed my company so much, imagine that he even put his arm around my shoulder a few times and proudly told others that I was one of his best students and that he thought I was much more mature than others.
I don't think this man knows what he did to me. I began to bond with him more, and that couple of champagne inside me made him even more loving. I didn't feel that I was his student anymore, I even forgot for a moment that he was my teacher at the moment, I was fooling around with him and I held onto his arm many times, and HE DIDN'T MIND!!!😳 Specifically, he let me be silly next to him and never once refused my closeness.
I hope I wasn't too much for him....
So, girls I feel that our relationship has reached a new level!! This is all I'm writing to you now, bc you may not even read it, it's so long. lol SORRY AHH but I'll tell you girls about more story in a second post if my thoughts come to mind.
Im really into him now💘😭
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trashpanda66 · 5 months
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OH MY FUCKING GOD I HAD A BRAiN BABY
(please take this with a grain of salt. I'm using my own experiences with visual and auditory hallucinations for this little silly thingy.)
Biscuit Oliva with an adopted child who has visual and auditory hallucinations and how he helps them through it!
First of all, Oliva loves his baby more than life itself. There isn't a single damn thing in this world that he wouldn't do for his sweet little Angel, and that includes things that sometimes make him feel a little bit silly.
So when his sweet baby comes running up to him with tears in their eyes, tugging at his pant leg while trying to climb up into his safe and strong grip, he stops everything he's doing and scoops his precious child up into his arms. He gives them a few gentle little bounces in his arms, pressing his lips against their forehead before quietly asking what's got them so worked up. Still crying, they tell him that there's a mean man in their room and he keeps telling them to do bad things. Oliva instantly switches to kill mode as he puts his child on the ground. It doesn't matter who this man is now, cus he's going to be dead within the next 10 seconds. Oliva goes charging into his kid's room, fists up and ready to murder for the sake of his precious baby, when he freezes.
There's no one in there.
He looks everywhere. Under the bed, in the closet, around the door, everywhere. There's absolutely no sign of anyone having broken in, and his angel knows better than to let anyone come in to his lavish cell without his express permission, plus there aren't that many people out there who are stupid enough to go after Oliva's sweet little angel. With his nerves still frazzled, he walks back out of his baby's room and heads back to where he left them. As soon as they see him, their face lights up and they come running over to him, hugging his massive legs and chattering about how Papa is their hero! The positive attention makes Oliva smile and relax a tiny bit, only for the smile to turn back into a frown as he thinks on what to do. He picks his baby up and holds them in his arms again, giving them a comforting smile as he talks to them about what was going on.
"Angel, Papa went and checked your room. I didn't find anyone in there." His soft heart breaks at the sight of fear filling his kid's eyes again.
"I think it's okay for you to go back to your room, sweetie. I'll stay with you if you want me to." His warm voice brings a bit of comfort to his child, who agrees to go back to their room as long as their Papa is there with them. Oliva's heart always flutters with love and pride whenever his little angel calls him Papa, making his insecurities about his parenting abilities almost disappear instantly every time. As the pair arrive back to the kid's room, Oliva swings open the door, a smile on his face, only for his precious angel to tense up in his arms and start crying all over again. Their eyes are fixed on the far corner of the room as their tiny hands grip onto Oliva's shirt, their entire body shaking as they try to keep quiet. Oliva tries to comfort his baby, rubbing their back softly as he tries to coo calming words to them, but they shush him. After a few tense seconds, his baby finally whispers to him that the mean man in right there in the corner and he's threatening to hurt them if they don't do bad things. Finally, it clicks in Oliva's head. He steels his gaze, staring right into the empty corner as he gently puts his kid back onto the ground. Oliva doesn't care whether this thing is real or not, it fucked with the wrong family today. In a stern and authoritative voice, Oliva demands that the mean man leave his baby's room this instant, causing himself to feel a tad bit silly yelling into an empty corner. But he knows that even if what his baby is seeing isn't real, it feels real to them and Oliva will be damned if he doesn't protect his little angel from everything that scares them, even if what's scaring them is in their mind. He looks to his baby, checking to see if he's doing the right thing, only for them to whisper out that the mean man is refusing to leave. He watches as their expression changes from fear to terror as their eyes dart from the corner, as if the figure is rapidly approaching him! Oliva turns back around, balling his hand up into a fist before delivering a powerful punch to the air. He feels silly, but the results don't lie. He watches as his angel's expression changes from horror to amazement. Looks like Oliva's hit landed. He once again demands that the figure he can't see leave immediately and never return again. He looks on as his baby's eyes follow a trail from the corner, along the wall, and finally out the bedroom door.
Oliva smiles as his little angel finally relaxes, their fear completely dissipating as they make their way back over to Oliva. He picks them up off the ground, hugging them close as he comforts them. At the sight of his completely relaxed and happy child, Oliva knows that he did the right thing, smiling to himself as they begin to talk to him about a drawing they want to make.
Oliva doesn't care how silly he looks, he'll always make sure to protect his baby.
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byeguyshiladies04 · 1 year
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• // he won’t bother you anymore // •
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pairing // changbin x reader
summary // someone is bothering you at the gym and changbin is there to help
warning // fluff, someone making reader uncomfortable, touching without consent (not sexual), anxiety
wc: 1.5k words
A/N this is inspired by @blue-jisungs post I will have it linked here <<<
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You loved going to the gym with Changbin, in fact, you liked going with any of the boys. When you started dating Changbin you had never stepped foot in a gym. But after a couple weeks of convincing it eventually became a weekly occurrence and more recently daily. Changbin basically became your personal trainer and boyfriend all in one.
Some days you would tag along even I you weren't working out. Just the company of Changbin and anyone else in the gym that day was enough to keep you entertained. Plus who would turn down the opportunity to watch their boyfriend work out? Especially when they had a body like Changbin.
Usually, you would work out at the gym in the company building, mainly to avoid fans or any cameras that may be lurking. Plus you felt comfortable there as you knew most of the idols or staff who used the gym. Plus everyone in the company knew about you and Changbin's relationship meaning you didn't have anything to hide. Or you thought everyone knew.
But ever since a new backup dancer joined the company and started using the gym you have started to feel a little uncomfortable.
The first time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago when he showed up at the gym at the same time as you and Changbin. You saw him staring at you from the other side of the gym. You gave him a small smile and continued with your workout but you could still feel his eyes on your back.
The second time you saw him he decided to start a conversation with you. He asked for your name and introduced himself telling you that he was new to the company. He was being very polite and kind which made you feel bad for jumping to conclusions the first time you saw him. You both continued to have a conversation and it was going well. That was until he asked you for your number and if you could meet up sometime. You politely declined telling him you had a boyfriend and leaving the gym that day feeling uncomfortable.
That night Changbin asked you what you were talking about, and you told him everything just leaving out the part where he asked for your number and if he could take you out.
However, today was the last straw and you had to tell someone. The first time he approached you today was when you were at the squat rack and he came up behind you telling you that your posture was wrong and tried to help you fix it. He put his hands on your waist and guided you through your movements telling you that you now had the 'correct' posture with his help. You knew he was lying and using it as an excuse to touch you because Changbin had told you countless times how to do it correctly.
You politely asked him to stop touching you and that you knew what you were doing without his help and he quickly stepped away walking to the other side of the gym.
Now you were laying back on the bench press machine waiting for Changbin to come and spot you. "Oh, do you need some help? Here let me help." You heard a familiar voice from beside you, but before you could even decline he was already swinging his leg over you to straddle your waist and hold the weight in his hands.
You felt your stomach drop and your muscles tense, you struggled to breathe as your heart rate quickened. "Come on, grip the bar, and I'll spot you," he said. "Umm... I'm actually a little, um tired. I think- I think I might just leave this set and come back to it later," you stuttered and lay there waiting for him to get off you.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he finally got off you once he realized you weren't going to grab the bar. "Okay, sure. Just give me a shout if you need my help, Yeah?" he said as you nodded your head not trusting your voice to come out clearly without stuttering.
You sat with your head in your shaking hands and tried to regulate your breathing. You realized that Changbin wasn't coming anytime soon as you saw him still talking to Chan, Han, and Lee Know.
You got up from the bench and made your way toward the boys, as you approached you put a smile on your face and clasped your hands to stop them from shaking.
As soon as Changbin saw you walking towards him, his face dropped. "Shit! Baby, I'm sorry, I was just coming to get you, what's wrong?" he immediately put his arm around you pulling you close to his side. You did the same and put your arms around his waist resting your head on his shoulder.
You started to tell Changbin and the rest of the boys about your encounters with the backup dancer and as you told them everything Changbin's grip tightened on your waist and he placed small kisses on your head as you spoke.
"Who is it? let me go and speak to him," Changbin said releasing his grip and walking away but you stopped him by grabbing his arm and shaking your head "please don't. I don't want to cause a scene plus I don't want to be the reason you are on bad terms with someone you might need to work with"
"How about I go and speak to him" Chan spoke up placing a hand on Changbin's shoulder.
"No Chan, please don't it's fine. It's not a big deal, it just caught me off guard.
"No! It's not fine. What he did to you is absolutely disgusting and if that's the way he is going to act we don't want someone like him working for us" Lee Know explained as Chanbin reached into his bag.
"Here, put this on baby. I'm not asking you to cover up, please don't think that's what I'm trying to do, or say that the way you are dressed is the reason he did this to you. It's one hundred percent, not your fault. He is just a disgusting human being who does not deserve a job here, and I would quite happily punch his face until-"
"Yo, Changbin calm down, yeah?" Han interrupted his rant.
"Sorry, sorry. I can just see that you're uncomfortable so put this on, okay" he said handing you his hoodie. "Do you want to leave now?" he asked as you slipped the hoodie over your head. "No, it's okay you can finish your workout," you said.
"Just stay with us okay," Chan said as all the boys nodded. "Well be done in about twenty minutes, you coming bin?"
"No, it's alright you guys go ahead I'll stay with Y/N" The boys walked off to the machines they were previously using to finish their sets. "Are you sure you don't want to go and finish your workout?" you asked but he shook his head and walked over to one of the empty workout benches.
"Come here" he motioned for you to sit on his lap as he opened his arms for you trapping you in his grasp. Usually, you didn't like to show this type of affection in a public gym but you really needed Changbin right now, so today was the only exception. You sat sideways on his lap one hand resting on your thigh the other tracing small circles on your lower back, as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder
You sat for the remaining twenty minutes in complete silence as Changbin rubbed up and down your thigh and asked you if you were okay every couple of minutes. When you replied with a nod he would take your hand in his and kissing the back of it before telling you he loved you.
When the boys finished their workout you all walked towards the exit but not before Changin spotted the dancer in the corner of the gym on his phone, "I'll be back in a minute okay, go and wait in the car with the boys" Changbin said walking towards him.
You stood and watched from the door and watched as they both greeted each other, the dancer's eyes lit up when Changbin started speaking to him. The conversation looked like it started normal until Changbin put his hand out for a handshake.
He gripped the man's hand tight and pulled him closer by putting a hand on his shoulder. The grip on his shoulder may have been a little too tight as he whispered something in his ear before walking off. He saw you watching from the door and sent a smile your way but your eyes were drawn to the man on the other side of the gym whose face became pale as he shifted uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck.
"Let's go home," he said putting his arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss on your forehead. "He won't be bothering you anymore"
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© byeguyshiladies04   2023
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winterspiderpurrs · 1 year
Text
It was just past 2am when a knock was heard on the bedroom window of the 3rd floor of a brownstone in Brooklyn. Steve lowered the sketchpad he was filling in some shading from his evening at the park. Bucky just turned another page in the book he was reading.
The window slide open and in crawled Peter. " Hey guys! I saw your light was still on and figured if its okay I could crash in the guest room?"
He lowers himself from the ceiling before pulling off his mask. His hair was wet with sweat and Steve is pretty sure if he wasnt enhanced he would have a blackeye. " Course you can Pete. Its why we offered it to you last year so you wont have to swing back to Queens"
" Great! Thanks guys. I've been in Hells kitchen. Tipped DoubleD and Deadpool off about this human trafficking ring down by the docks. Been hearing whispers about it in Queens."
Steve stares at Peter a moment before setting his sketchbook aside and get out of bed. " I'm sure they can handle that themselves... but I'm glad you could help. Now why don't you get in our shower, get that smell off of you, I'll fix you up a sandwhich before you go to your room for the night." Steve gives Peter a small smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm gentle " Glad your safe Queens" before leaving the room to head to the kitchen.
Moving to get up as well Bucky goes to pick out some cloths for Peter to change into. " Alright Doll, you get started and I'll bring ya something to change into."
Peter hits the spider on his suit, letting it fall off of his shoulders as he stumbles into the bathroom. Once he is out of his suit; he hops into the shower and turns the water on. He left the door open knwoing Bucky will be in to bring clothes. " Hey Bucky why does Steve get all tense when I talk about working with team red? I know I'm a little sweaty but ya know I don't smell that bad"
Bucky enters the bathroom setting some cloths ontop of the sink counter before proping his hip against it as he watched Peter through the glass. "Well Doll, he gets worried about you. You know Deadpool aint the most stable and with his...... fascination with you he gets worried."
Wipping the fog off of the glass before putting some shampoo on his hair, Peter looks out the glass at Bucky.
" Wade is harmless!... well not really but he is to me. Steve doesn't have anything to worry about!"
Stalking closer to the glass, Bucky slides the door open, his eyes squint a little as the mist of the shower hits him on the face. " We have been watching out for you for a while Doll. Even if we aren't your Alphas, we still treat you like our Omega... why do you think we let you set up a nest in our guestroom.... your room, we don't let anyone else stay in there"
Peter's eyes widen and he stares at Bucky. Thinking back to all the moments where now that he is thinking about where clear signs of them trying to court him. He feels like a dumbass now. How could he be so clueless. " I.... feel so stupid for not noticing" Bucky snorts and smirks " I told Steve we gotta just sit and be blunt. But your both oblivious idiots when it comes to this stuff. "
Peter laughs and turns the water off, reaching a hand out, Bucky gets a towel off the rack and hands it over to him. " If this is something you want... then tonight take off those scent blockers, and when we walk you back to your room... invite us to your nest Doll." Reaching out Bucky gently tugs on one of Peters wet curls after he toweled off his head. " We don't have to mate tonight but let us scent you up, we hate when you come to our den smelling like.... other alphas. Though once we know your ours.... Stevie is gonna get more protective. "
Bucky steps into the shower, caging Peter in with his arms
" I will too Doll. I know you've spent some of your heats in the past with that devil and Deadpool. And we want to make sure they know your ours now. Even if its just scenting you for now.... I can't wait till they can smell us dripping out...." Eye's widening Peter swallows a little staring up at Bucky, nodding his head slowly. Bucky smirks and rubs his nose against Peter's. " Alright lets get you dressed and meet the Punk in the kitchen. "
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ase-trollplays · 2 months
Text
Come With Me
Your name is Brandy Voleon. You're only one sweep old, and you're on the living room floor of your shared hive currently coloring a picture of a fleet ship in your empire-approved coloring book. Your twin, Scotch, left a few minutes ago, though you don't remember where he said he was going. He just said he wouldn't be gone a long time.
Once you finish coloring the page of your book -- You know imperial ships are supposed to be red, but purple looks so much better, in your opinion -- you rip it out and scurry to the kitchen to put it on the fridge. Just as you're reaching for a magnet to pin your masterpiece, you hear shouting and the sound of your lusus shrieking outside.
*SNAARRRRLLLL!!!* "Hey you! Get away from that lusus!" *SCREEEEECH!!!* "You bastard! Get back here, damn you!"
You abandon the coloring book page and run up the stairs to yours and Scotch's respite block to hide. You're sure Wolf-Spider dad can handle whoever's out there. Hopefully your sibling is sa--
Your thoughts get interrupted by the sound of the front door being kicked open and someone running inside, and you can't remember ever feeling so scared in your life. Your antenna, one fuzzy and one not, twitch and shudder with fear.
"Is anyone here!? You have to come with me! You're in danger!"
Whoever just entered your hive sounds like a male troll and definitely an adult. Tears of fear sting the corners of your eyes, and you cover your mouth when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. When the door to your respiteblock gets thrown open, you press your hands to your mouth more firmly to muffle the startled gasp you almost let out. It doesn't take long for the intruder to check the closet and find you inside, and the scream that tears out of you causes him to wince and cover his ears.
You scramble and try to make a break for it, but he grabs you by the arm before you can even get a foot away from him, which only makes you scream more in addition to panicked flailing and swatting.
"Stop screaming! I'm trying to help you!" he commands and grabs you by the shoulders. Tears are falling from your eyes like waterfalls as you screech at him to let go and cry out for your lusus or Scotch. The troll -- An adult jade with stitch-like scarring around his mouth, a fur-trimmed jacket splattered with your lusus's blood, and cross-like horns -- gives you a hard shake.
"Your lusus is dead!"
That actually manages to shut you up as you process what he just said. Now that you're quiet, he continues talking.
"My name is Japhyr, Okay? I tried to stop the other troll, but I was too late. Your lusus was already dead by the time I chased them away, but you're not safe. They could come back any second, so we have to go right now."
He yanks you into his arms and starts running with you, at which point you struggle against him and try to make him drop you.
"What about Scotch?? We hafta wait!" you protest. If you're not safe from whoever killed your lusus, then your sibling isn't either. You can't leave him behind. "He's coming back! We hafta wait for him!"
"There's no time, kid! That lusus killer could come back any second! If we wait, then all of us will die!" he warns and struggles to keep a firm grasp on you, which in turns makes you fight against him even harder.
"Nooooo!! No, no, no! We hafta wait! We hafta wait for Scotch!" you repeat and start biting him and swinging your little fists and kicking like your life depends on it. Japhyr snarls and holds you at arm's length as you flail in his grasp with tears in your eyes.
"Dammit, there's no time! As soon as you're safe, I'll come back for Scotch! I promise, okay??"
You tone down your struggling and glare at him, your antenna tensing up as well. He can tell you don't believe him, and for a split second you feel hot -- Really hot and like you're being pricked all over. However, it only lasts for a fragment of a second.
"Promise? Promise you'll get Scotch too??" you question. Japhyr's every feature screams impatience, but he takes a deep breath and puts on a stoic face.
"I promise on my life I'll come back for him as soon as you're safe. I'll let you kill me yourself if I don't. Okay? Do we have a deal? You have to answer right now."
Although still doubtful, you nod. He tucks you under one arm and breaks into a sprint out of your hive. You only catch a glimpse of Wolf-Spider Dad's bloody, severed, and battered body as Japhyr runs away with you in tow.
You really, really hope that Scotch will be okay. You don't ever want to be without your sibling.
------------------
Your name is Brandy Voleon, and you're an eleven sweep office worker. Your guardian, the closest thing to family you've ever known, was killed two sweeps ago, and you still miss him.
Sometimes, though, you feel like there used to be someone else...
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Whumpril 2023 - Day 15
Prison! Prison! Prison!
TWs: Ableism, dehumanization in a prison context, isolation
Isolation | Flinching | “Do you trust me?”
"Since you're new, you'll be on the easy stuff. Meal deliveries, escorting the chill prisoners places, that sort of thing. You'll be fine."
Paulo really wasn't sure how this was meant to be easy. The other prisoners had been alright, more or less. They'd assigned him the white collar guys, the ones in for fraud or theft. Business men. The kind that had likely never thrown a punch in their lives.
The groups were well-behaved, greeting Paulo and teasing him gently for being the newest hire. "You got the short end of the straw, eh?" The men who could've been friends with his father said, laughing amongst themselves. "We're a rowdy group, watch out. José plays a mean game of chess." And so they went, taking their hour in the yard jovially. No fights, no arguing. They just wanted some sun.
Now, though, Paulo found himself standing in front of Ortiz's cell. Solitary confinement. "It's just for his safety. He gets nervous around a bunch of people, and this is cheaper than keeping him medicated." His trainer had been adamant that it was okay. It had to be a prank.
Ortiz would eat him alive. He'd come out of that cell swinging. He'd smell fresh meat and they'd find his corpse during the next patrol.
Paulo rapped on the solid metal door. "Yard time. Hands on the wall." He announced, giving Ortiz one minute to comply. When he unlocked the door, scarred hands were up against the blank, stone wall. "Turn, palms towards the ceiling." Biceps that dwarfed his own didn't even tense as Paulo cuffed Ortiz for the walk.
"You know the drill. In front, hands facing yourself. Run and I shoot." Paulo just managed to keep his voice strong and even.
"Yes, officer." The flat, hoarse voice that answered didn't even seem bothered by the threat of being shot. He had to be crazy. "It's good to meet you." Ortiz said, walking in front of Paulo. "Is Officer Rodriguez alright?"
"I don't have to tell you anything." Paulo barked. Ortiz hummed, nodding. What was he nodding about? What had he decided on?
They kept walking.
Ortiz glanced in at the various common areas as he walked past. Paulo tensed. He was going to have to stop a rampage, wasn't he?
He didn't make a move to go into any of them, though. No one waved to him. It didn't seem like he knew anyone here, really. Not beyond Rodriguez, anyway.
They reached the pat-down area just before the yard. "You have fifty minutes." He said, uncuffing Ortiz once he'd made sure he didn't have any weapons on him. It felt like letting a tiger out of its cage with how those black eyes followed his hands. What was he supposed to say to this guy, again? "And no lying down." Whatever that meant.
"Understood, officer." Ortiz said. Paulo didn't like the small smile that flickered before he keyed the door open for the prisoner.
Ortiz just started walking. He had his head tilted back, face to the sun. His eyes were closed as he walked in a slow circuit around the yard. Guns were trained on him the whole time. He never stopped.
It was like Ortiz was in his own little world.
Paulo hated it. Even when he got a polite nod in response to his recall command and those terrible hands pressed to the wall again to come back inside, he couldn't relax. It felt like he was missing something. Only when Ortiz was safely in his cell again and the three locks turned, did Paulo let out a breath.
"So did you talk with Ortiz?" Paulo's trainer asked, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. "He's nice, right?"
"He's terrifying." Paulo grumbled, crossing his arms as he sat. "Crazy motherfucker."
"You'll get used to him." Rodriguez said, laughing. "He's weird, but just give him some books from the library and time to walk outside and he don't even care that he can't be around anyone. I'll take his crazy any day."
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Text
Day 167: Favorite Mug
"Come on, Draco," Harry pleaded, that slight whine in his voice that Draco could scarcely resist. "It'll be so much fun, I promise," he said. "I'll teach you all about the superheroes, T'Challa is my favorite," he added and the confines of Draco's mind expanded to hold that little tidbit of Harry as well.
Draco stared at him and his heart twisted in his chest, aching with the longing to be allowed to just love him. To hold every bit of him, of his body and of his mind, to know every inch of that mind and heart and soul. He was full to bursting with desire and he couldn't take it. "I can't," he said.
"Why?" Harry pouted, "Do you have something tonight?"
"No."
Harry frowned, "Then why not?"
He opened his mouth to make his excuses but what came out instead was his own heart, "Because I can't hold one more piece of you," he said.
Harry blinked but Draco's mouth apparently wasn't done with him.
"Because I know so much about you. I covet those little pieces of you, and I hold them and keep them, and there's no more room." He shook his head, "My head is full of you, and you, and nothing but you. Miles and piles of you in every little nook and cranny. Everything is you."
The other man opened his mouth but Draco steamrolled on.
"I know that dandelions are your favorite flower, which is ridiculous because they're a bloody weed. I know that thunderstorms make you tense and quiet, I know you can't be in enclosed spaces without windows when they're rolling through. I know that you take your coffee with cream and your tea with sugar. I know that treacle tart is your favorite dessert. I know that you will say that you don't have a favorite book, but 'The Hobbit' is the book that you've gone back and reread a thousand times. I know that green is secretly your favorite color.
(Read more below the cut)
"I know you like Chinese or Thai for dinner after a successful case, or breakfast for dinner after a hard case involving children." Draco swallowed and continued, "I know that you want to have kids someday, and that you love watching your godchildren but it makes you heartsick. I know that you still haven't forgiven yourself for the war, a burden that isn't fair for you to still be carrying.
"I-" he broke off and shook his head, "I know that you like muggle ballpoint pens best but if you must use a quill, you want a turkey feather one. I know that your favorite mug is that stupid one that I got you as a joke that says 'Sarcasm is one of the many services I offer.' I know that you hate cranberries."
"Draco-" Harry started.
But he shook his head again, "I'm sorry," he said, throat feeling tight. "Harry, it's killing me. I'm in love with you," he said helplessly, "and this," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "this is killing me." He took his bag off the back of his chair and left before Harry could say anything, before he could feel like even more of an idiot.
Draco locked himself in his flat and cried, cursing his own idiocy. Why couldn't he have just said something normal like 'I'm tired,' or 'I don't want to watch 'Moon Knight' with you because it sounds creepy and I don't like sleeping alone after I'm creeped out.' Or literally anything that didn't make him sound like a crazy person.
He collapsed into his chair and took out a piece of parchment and a quill, may as well start penning his letter of resignation to the DMLE, Merlin knew that Harry was the only reason anyone had given him a second chance there.
He was halfway through when there was a knock at the door, "Go away!" he shouted.
"I won't," Harry's voice replied, stubborn and boorish, bloody Gryffindor. "Open the door, Draco," he called, knocking again.
He got up and stomped over, letting the door swing open and reveal Harry standing there with his hands on his hips. "Go away-"
"Shut up," Harry said, "It's my turn to talk." He took a deep breath, "I know that Zinnias are your favorite flower. I know that you don't like sunny days; you're always covered up with sunblock charms and sunglasses and hats. I know that you take both your coffee and your tea with cream and sugar; and I know that you will tell people you drink it black because it seems like the thing that grown-ups do. I know that you will tell people that your favorite dessert is something fancy and french, but when it comes right down to it, your favorite dessert is a warm, gooey brownie.
"I know that secretly your favorite book is 'Pride and Prejudice'. I know that cerulean is your favorite color. I know that you like to curl up on the couch with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate after a long day or a hard case.
"I know that you are terrified of having kids, of having a family, because you are afraid of turning into your dad. I know that you haven't forgiven yourself for the war either."
Harry took another breath before continuing, "I know that you like those fancy quills that your mum orders you from France, but I'm pretty sure that you only like them because she gives them to you. I know that you would say you prefer tea cups for coffee and tea, but you love that big earthen-ware mug that I brought back from my trip to the States; whenever you use that one you hold it in your hands like it's something precious. I know that you hate nuts and fruit in cake."
He took a step forward and cupped Draco's cheek in his palm, "I know you too, Draco. I've stored up all of the bits of you inside of me as well," he confessed. "And believe it or not, I am very much in love with you too."
"Really?" Draco asked, his eyes filling with tears again.
"Really," Harry affirmed, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. "I'd like to take you out on a date, if you're amenable."
He swallowed and nodded, "I'd like that."
"Good," Harry said, smiling brightly. "Let's go."
He took a step back and gestured to what he was wearing, "You want me to go in this?" he asked incredulously, he hadn't changed out of what he'd worn to work.
"Darling, I don't care what you're wearing. I just want to be with you."
His heart tripped over itself and he couldn't have stopped the pleased smile on his lips if he'd wanted to, "You're sweet," he said softly, "But you may as well get used to waiting for me to get ready now."
Harry laughed and tugged Draco back toward him, "Can I kiss you first?"
Draco leaned in, "I suppose I would be amenable to that," he agreed teasingly.
Harry closed the scant distance between them as Draco pulled him inside, and if it took them longer than it ought to have taken to get to a restaurant for dinner, well, no one could say this hadn't been a long time coming.
----------------------
Day 166: Saudade | Day 168: Is it true what the rumors say, Professor?
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wearebulletproof713 · 7 months
Text
BTS reaction to you being a savage to a mean person
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: Cursing in Jimin and Jungkook's part, people wanting to have s*x, stalking,
Jin: "So, I was thinking that we could go to the park later and then watch movies and then-" Jin was cut off. A random male butted in. "You don't even have time for any of that. You must be dumb. By thee time you finish-" "You'll be gone. So mind your own business. It's not like you have anyone to talk to, so why don't you find something to do in your sad time? Or, are you to dumb to do anything?" You sneer at the guy. He looks in shock as does Jin. You take Jin's hand and swing it while skipping. You laugh at his bewildered expression. "C'mon, Jinnie!" "When did you become such a savage?"
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Yoongi: "let's go get some ice- cream, you decided. Yoongi trailed behind you, not bothering to object. "All right, Y/N." "Yess!" You see the light up sign that says ice-cream and you start running to it, leaving Yoongi behind. You open the door and smell the wonderful smell of the different flavors. "I'll have a banana pudding cone of ice-cream please," you say, pulling out your purse to grab your card. You hear a snide comment that catches your mind. "Who even likes banana pudding?" You close your eyes and count to 10. Then you open them and glare at the worker. "Why do you sell it? If you do, then people must like it." That makes the worker stunned. "We sell it for people with a bad taste." The worker sneers at you. "Well, if I have a bad taste, why were you eating it? I come here every day, and won't bother with crapp-" The door opens an you see Yoongi. "Just get me what I want and I'll be out." Yoongi stares at you, hearing the whole conversation with a glint of pride in his eyes. "Such a savage." You hear him whisper.
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Hoseok: "That dress is so sexy, baby. Especially on you." You glare at a male who decided to comment on your dress. Hoseok was getting drinks and this was exactly why you hated bars. Drunk, stupid, and crappy males who were exactly like him. "Well, guess what bud. I've got a boyfriend, so if you would just excuse me-" "He wouldn't know." You raise your eyebrow and curse, trying to get the man away. He just didn't know when to stop. You took this the hard way. "Alright, person. Listen I already have a boyfriend which I told you, so you must be deaf, I am not in a sexy dress for you, so you must be dumb and blind, and you are obviously drunk, so get away from me." Hoseok watched from afar as you handled the situation. "So savage." He muttered under his breath. He walked over and placed a kiss on your head. "Let's go, jagi."
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Namjoon: You were at the gym with Namjoon, running on the treadmill while he lifted weights and talked to you. "I've been reading this book. It's called The Rose. I think you'd like it. I forget who the author is though." You say while running. "Why is there a girl in the gym? And talking about books? Nobody wants a girl like that. You see Namjoon tense up. You look at him and shake your head. "I've got this." You whisper. You walk up to the men, Namjoon following you and you break out into a smile. "Welcome to the 20th century where woman can do things and get equal pay," Then you glare at them, making them cower. "Now, tell me, did you go to school? You must be as stupid as you look. Well, let me tell you something. You have no right to act like that. Sure you can talk like that, but I guarantee you, women will speak back and make you cower like that." Namjoon looks shocked. "Y/N. It's time to leave." He says, still shocked. You put that happy smile on again. "Again, welcome to the 20th century."
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Jimin: You were having a party and Jimin looked as uncomfortable I as you. Your dress was slowly riding up as you slouched on the couch. A guy sat next to you and started to engage in a conversation with you. He moved closer slowly and touched your thigh. You looked at him in disgust and move away. He moved closer till you are cornered. "Hey, hottie. How about we move this to my bed?" You kick him in the groin and move away. "I moved for a reason," you say coldly. "Do you think I would want you? If you don't know, I already have a boyfriend, so take some other poor girl to your bed." Jimin appeared behind you giving the man a cold glare. "Get the fuck away from her, man." He warns. "You don't want to deal with me. I know people and will destroy you and your life if you touch her again." The man scurries away and you look back at him with a smile and whisper thank you. He looks and gently kisses you, whispering back, "You're mine."
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Taehyung: You were at a museum, looking at the art and facts that were on a little board. You see Leonardo Da Vinci's painting and point at it excitingly. "Look, Tae! It's the Lady with an Ermine!" You and Taehyung shared a passion for art, which was why you two were so close. "Where? Where?" He looks around. Finally he spots it. "Wow. It's so beautifully painted!" You say. Turning around, you see a man that you saw from the entrance. You shake it off, not thinking it was anything serious. Then the man keeps following you, so you turn around and glare. "Go away!" Taehyung looks over and see's the man too and gives a cold hard stare. "If you had a life, maybe you wouldn't be stalking other people. So, why don't you go get one?" Taehyung looks at you in surprise as you turn away and start walking around. The man also looks surprised then gives Taehyung a glare and scuttles away. "Hey, Y/N! Who did you learn that from?" "Yoongi oppa." You reply. Taehyung still was shocked from your savage statement, but moved on with you.
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Jungkook: You were in the park for a quick run with Jungkook when a guy caught up to you. "Hey, you shouldn't be running! It's a man's job to be the protector, not yours. You should be a house-" "And when did I care? When did your opinion matter to me? Sure, you can vote, but so can I. You can drive a car, but so can I. And what is 567x34? It's 19278." "You memorized that. What's 39372x29." "1141788." You answer in a beat. The guy looks at you in surprise. Jungkook does to. "Well, babe, we have a smartass right here. How would you like to come home with me tonight?" You crinkle your nose in disgust. Jungkook regains his senses. "Get away from her, asshole. You just criticized her." You glare. "Go away." The man hurried off and Jungkook looked at you in amazement. "Such a savage."
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bbyannabeth · 2 years
Text
percabeth spiderman AU part 2
part 1
percy holds the phone up to his ear, bracing himself. “hey, beth,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. “so i know we were supposed to get dinner and study and everything tonight, but something came up. i won’t be able to make it.”
he peeks over the edge of the roof again, watching the three thugs below as they double-check their guns for ammo. they’re hidden deep in an alleyway, and percy had been on his way home when he heard them talking about robbing the bank across the street. and he’s already suited up, so there’s no reason not to stop them before anyone gets hurt.
“wait, what?” annabeth asks.
the guys below are beginning to move, so percy has to wrap this up fast. “i'm really sorry, i'll make it up to you.”
“you always do this, percy. you bail or whatever last minute,” she complains, the frown evident in her voice.
“i know, i know. i'm sorry. i have to go, though. i'm really sorry,” he gets out in a rush before ending the call. he slips his phone away. guilt bubbles up in his chest, but he pushes it down for now. instead of thinking about his best friend, he drops to the ground right in front of the three robbers.
“hey fellas,” he says, falsely cheery. “nice night, huh?”
-
annabeth walks out of the bookstore, carefully rearranging the three books in her arms. she should’ve brought her tote bag, but she hadn’t planned on stopping in at the store. she almost makes it to her apartment when two familiar faces just have to ruin her day.
“hey princess.”
annabeth’s shoulders tense. she lifts her chin, determined not to show the anxiety that’s coursing through her. “clarisse.”
“been looking for you, you know,” she says. beside her is another one of clarisse’s friends annabeth doesn’t know the name of. she doesn’t say anything, letting clarisse do all the talking. “figured i should teach you a lesson about opening that mouth of yours.”
annabeth’s fingers tighten on her books. “it’s not my fault you got detention,” annabeth said.
“but you were the one who told brunner, ain’t that right?”
annabeth should back down, but she doesn’t. “if you didn’t beat kids up for their lunch money like some cheap bully in a high school movie, i wouldn’t have to tell brunner anything.”
as soon as the words leave annabeth’s mouth, she regrets them. clarisse, on the other hand, seems to be done talking. she starts towards annabeth, her hands already curling into fists. for a second, annabeth is sure this is it for her; her smartass mouth that always gets her in trouble had done its job one final time.
and then a blur of red and blue drops down in front of her.
“sorry to interrupt girls’ night, but how about we leave her alone, huh?” spiderman asks. annabeth’s jaw nearly hits the ground.
clarisse isn’t as impressed, pulling a face. “as if i'm gonna take orders from a guy in spandex.”
spiderman won’t let her pass though, and it’s clear clarisse is getting frustrated. annabeth is almost appalled at her stupidity when she tries to take a swing at the guy, who catches her fist in midair. clarisse gasps sharply, which tells annabeth spiderman’s grip is a little tighter than it looks.
“really dude?” he asks. “look, i'm sure you don’t wanna get beat up by a guy in spandex either so how about we go home, huh? drink some water, take a breath. you’re so angry, you know?”
clarisse rips her hand away from him, giving annabeth one last glare. “this isn’t over, princess.”
she and her friend stalk away, and annabeth finally lets herself relax. spiderman turns to her, and she smiles a little. “thank you,” she says softly. “i'm not entirely sure she would’ve let me live.”
he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “bullies are all the same. just way too much repressed anger taken out on the wrong people,” he shakes his head. “i'm glad i could help, though.”
annabeth nods again, still smiling stupidly. she’s always admired spiderman, so seeing him up close, him saving her is really cool. “well thanks again.”
“no problem,” he says. “get home safe, beth.”
that knocks the shock right out of her.
“what did you call me?” she whispers, so quietly she almost thinks he won’t hear. but his body freezes up, and he looks at her. the white eyes on his mask widen in a way that would be funny if he hadn’t just called her that.
“uh, miss. i called you miss.”
he’s nervous, that’s clear as day. “no,” she shakes her head slowly. “you called me- how did you even know my name?”
spiderman stares at her. “i'm sorry, i have to go,” he says quickly, lifting his arm to shoot his webs upwards. in a second, he’s gone. annabeth is too shocked to move because that one sentence sends a wave of deja vu through her.
now that she isn’t awestruck by him, she realizes how familiar his voice sounded. there’s only one person who calls her beth.
annabeth feels like she’s going to be sick. she all but runs home, bolting up the stairs of her apartment building. she tosses her new books onto her bed when she gets to her room, pulling her laptop open immediately. she takes her phone out and checks her call log, going back to that phone call from percy two nights ago.
then she opens google and searches for spiderman’s recent activity and arrests in the city.
everything is already pointing to what seems obvious, but impossible, but it seems confirmed when she realizes that call from percy is only forty minutes before spiderman helped arrest three robbers. annabeth slumps back in her desk chair, staring at the screen.
she is going to kill percy.
-
she can’t wait any longer than about 14 hours before it starts to drive her crazy. so annabeth slips on her shoes and rides the subway towards percy’s apartment. when she knocks on the door, she is greeted by the familiar face of sally jackson.
“hi, honey. how are you?” sally asks, smiling.
“i'm good,” annabeth replies. “is percy home?”
“in his room.”
“thank you.” annabeth slips past her and makes her way to percy’s room, knocking a few times. it’s painfully obvious how awkward and stiff he is once he opens the door, only further solidifying her discovery.
“hey,” he says slowly. “what are you doing here?”
“i was in the neighborhood. wanted to drop in and say hi,” she says casually, entering his room without any permission.
“uh, now’s not the best time…”
annabeth looks around. “you don’t look busy to me?” she says, dropping her bag and sitting on the bed. she crosses her legs and looks up at him. “you’ll never guess what happened yesterday.”
percy hesitates, shutting the door slowly. annabeth doesn’t miss the way he locks it. “what happened yesterday?” he asks.
“clarisse was outside my apartment building. wanted to beat me up or whatever for making brunner give her detention.”
percy stuffs his hands into his hoodie pockets, his shoulders tense. annabeth hates to corner him like this, but if he isn’t going to tell her on his own, she needs to pull it out of him. “damn,” percy says. “are you okay? what happened?”
he’s committed, annabeth will give him that. she smiles a little, tilting her head. “you won’t believe it, spiderman showed up and saved the day. embarrassed clarisse and everything.”
“that was nice of him.”
annabeth stares at him, but percy won’t meet her eyes. a full twenty seconds pass before annabeth stands up, stepping in front of him. finally, percy looks at her. “you wanna know the craziest part?” she asks quietly.
for a second, she thinks percy isn’t going to reply. but then he asks, “what?”
“somehow, he knew my name,” annabeth says without missing a beat. “not only my name, but a nickname. beth.”
she lets that last word hang there. percy’s face is unreadable, and she thinks they might stand like that forever before one of them cracks. eventually, he sighs quietly. “what do you want from me, beth?”
“so it is you?” she doesn’t wait for an answer. “why didn’t you tell me?”
“i wanted to,” he whispers. “the fewer people that knew, though, the better. it was safer that way. the only person who knows is my mom. not even grover knows.” grover is the only friend percy has known longer than he’s known annabeth.
“yeah, but i'm… me,” she breathes.
he looks at her, something unspoken passing between them. he may have known grover longer, but there has always been something different about his friendship with annabeth. something deeper. and they both know it. he tucks a curl behind her ear and annabeth leans into the touch. she wants to be mad that he kept the secret, but she knows why he did. she understands.
“i know,” he murmurs. “which is why i wanted to tell you. you don’t know how badly i wish i could’ve told you the truth every time i had to bail on our plans because something spidey related came up.”
annabeth’s lips twitch into a smile. “spidey related,” she repeats. “that sounds funny.”
percy smiles too. “i'm sorry i didn’t tell you,” he says, and she shakes her head.
“no, i get it. it’s okay.”
percy’s eyes flick to her lips and for a second, she thinks he’s going to kiss her. he doesn’t, though. he never does. which she understands because she never does either.
instead, he smiles again. “you realize this means your best friend is part spider, huh?”
annabeth wrinkles her nose. yes, she had realized that and she is actively trying to forget. “god, don’t remind me.”
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roseonne · 5 months
Text
strings left untied
Chloe has had a lot of battles in her life. The hardest one she fought, however, is against a measuring tape.
idea by & dedicated to @suispicibo-setomaouge ! ( ao3 link )
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Chloe has had a lot of battles in her life.
Did she win over them, though? Oh, absolutely. She might not look the part, but she is a fierce fighter. It may seem scary at first too; but she sure won't back down on anything! Be it against a class deadline, a big bully, a creepy bug, or even the wooden door with the 'arts and crafts room' sign hanging onto it.
I-I am a fighter...!
The redhead swallows a lump down her throat, as she continues glaring at the colorful signage.
"I... I am a fighter," she tries to convince herself, voice slightly quivering, and barely audible enough to sound like a whisper.
Her eyes have been glued to the door in front of her for how many minutes now? Five? Thankfully, the hallway's empty; no one's around to spot her struggling to figure out exactly what her preferred manner of knocking would be.
Should I tap with my fingers three times? Slowly? What should I say? Do I open the door right away or wait for a response before I proceed?
With each passing moment, the more frantic she grows and restless she becomes. She's supposed to be meeting someone hereーquite the special person for her, truth be toldーand it's already past the particular time they both agreed to meet at. Repeatedly glancing over to her left, then to her right, and back down to the watch strapped onto her wrist every thirty seconds could only take her so far. She has to decide. Quickly.
But her chest is pounding, hands are trembling, and an almost endless whirl of thoughts making her a little lightheaded.
Great.
Talk about leaving first impressions! And because Chloe couldn't have asked to be in a better state, her brain fails to instinctively register the door suddenly swinging open, thus revealing the very person she is bound to meet merely standing there, right before her eyes, frozen in shock.
"Chloe!"
The evident surprise in Rutile's tone brings her back to her senses. And with her senses regained, comes a wave of panic crashing over her entirely.
"R-Rutile!?" The internal wince she has to endure as her pitch rises to a volume higher than the clouds outside that day could ever reach. "Wh-where are you going...?"
"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Chloe!" Rutile exclaims, sighing deeply in utmost relief. "I was so worried, I thought something might have happened. I was just about to go look for you!"
Chloe could very well recognize butterflies fluttering in her stomach, whenever she feels them. And there's definitely a whole army residing in her tummy right now. 
"Are you sure you're okay?" the blonde asks again, eyes filled with nothing but genuine concern, carefully examining each and every facial feature of hers.
"I am!" Chloe rigorously nods her head, hopefully enough to be able to convey her assurance. "I'm... I'm alright. Really."
A short pause. The air surrounding themーit's quiet, but also quite thick and tensed.
Rutile has yet to tear her solid green gaze away from Chloe. Any longer this goes on, the redhead isn't too keen about being able to decently handle its consequences.
And how can she, really? When she's always had this biggest crush on Rutile.
Rutile Flores. The school's most prided model. She's kind, caring, and beautiful. She's easy to get along with, has great style, and is extremely popular across campus grounds. Anyone's bound to fall for her plenty charms!
But Chloeーthe good, little, aspiring designer that she isーcould only go as far as hope to have her feelings noticed; and even farther be reciprocated. Not like she thinks she stands little to no chance at all in the first place, though.
"I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to promise me that you'll tell me if anything's wrong," Rutile abruptly says, much to Chloe's astonishment. 
Taken aback slightly, Chloe brings her eyes up to meet Rutile's. The expression on the latter's face remains stern, but Chloe can tell she's only saying these purely out of her best intentions. Something she would very much love to hear, and something she greatly appreciates.
"Would that be alright? I promise I'll do the same for you," Rutile hastily adds. 
Nothing's wrong with being a bit too trusting, yes? Especially considering the circumstances at hand, Chloe discerns, with the tiniest sparkle of hope she forever carries in her, that maybe, just maybe, she actually deserves a shot at this.
In a heartbeat, the redhead replies with a smile, "Sure. I promise."
~~~~~
Chloe has had a lot of battles in her life.
She would bravely conquer one after another, like the true warrior she is. It's the experiences of this kind that helped convince her that she can do anything, so long as she perseveres in it. But never once did she anticipate a measuring tape to be the one battle that gave her the most trouble in years.
Come on... Come on...!
She mentally cheers herself on and on. The measuring tape she's working with has constantly been getting stuck in between her fingers as she tries her best to note all of Rutile's measurements down on her notebook.
"Ack!" And there it goes again.
"A-Are you okay...?"
It's so frustrating, honestly. When she found out from a club announcement that Rutile's in need of an outfit or two to represent their school at an upcoming event, Chloe gathered up a lifetime's worth of courage and immediately offered her aid. Which, to her surprise, Rutile herself graciously accepted.
The stakes are high. I can't mess up, Chloe tells to herself in her head, I just can't!
But how, exactly, can she not mess up? She's practically, physically, prestigiously a mere couple of inches away from her biggest crush!
"Uhm," Rutile curiously jives in. "How are my measurements going, Chloe?"
"Oh! Er-pretty good, actually." Chloe lets out a nervous laugh. "I... just need to take the length of your arms and we're all good!"
"Wow... That's amazing! You really are something. Thank you, my dear Chloe!" 
After jutting the last set of numbers she recalls down on paper and upon realizing what she had just been called, Chloe's face then subconsciously zooms back up too closely to Rutile's that she yelps and jolts several steps away on reflex, causing her to lose the balance on her feet. Luckily, Rutile reaches out just in time to pull Chloe back towards her body to prevent her from completely falling flat on the ground.
"Careful, Chloe!"
Surreal. The only word to ever describe it all. Chloe could almost mistake this as another one of her many, bittersweet dreams at random nights. If it really is a dream, then perhaps it's alright to remain asleep for a little while longer; maybe at least until she witnesses the end of this beautiful story.
But if it isn't just a 'dream'...
"Please don't hurt yourself, Chloe." There is a hint of pain lingering in each of Rutile's words that touches the core of her soul. The redhead still could barely believe it.
With a heart as light as the threads that seem to have magically tied their fates together, Chloe leaves her answer drifting amidst the calm, early autumn breeze, entering the room through parted curtains of opened windows.
"I won't." A meaningful smile is shared between two lost hearts; now found. "That's a promise. Thank you, Rutile." 
2 notes · View notes
aquariaries · 1 year
Text
Reiji Sakamaki 08 - Chaos Lineage + CGs
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***I do not mind if you use my translations as a base for another language, I just ask that you credit me if you do!***
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Yui's Monologue:
Little by little, Reiji-san is beginning to regain his memories.
However, he sometimes seems to be conflicted by the mysterious sights that didn't seem to deal him the decisive blow.
And I'm watching over Reiji-san with this loneliness.
I wonder if the return of his memories will make him suffer ... ...
When I think of that, I'm unable to take a step forward.
We are in a winning state as of now, but in the meantime, the other families were steadily showing suspicious signs of movement--.
————————————
PLACE: Scarlet Mansion Living/Dining Room
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Kino: As expected, it doesn't look like Violet gave up. Sometimes I've seen some of them hanging around by the house.
I don't think Carla is being quiet about it, but I hope he doesn't come up with something.
Yuma: As for Orange, only two of the younger brothers come out occasionally. But that may just be 'cus of their older brother's orders.
It felt like they were just playing around as they wished, but I can't say anything for certain.
Reiji: ... ... I see. You can't see much of either family.
Let's increase the number of times we go scouting. And to each of you, don't forget to report what you find.
Yuma: Scouting this, scouting that ... ... Shouldn't we just start swinging on them right about now?
Reiji: Our goal is to take the throne and rule as overlord.
The other family's battle is one of defense.
Be sure not to forget that.
Yuma: Guess it can't be helped ... ...
Got it.
Kino: But, Eve still can't remember how to make someone become the overlord?
Yui: Eh ... ... !?
(Speaking of, I completely forgot about that! That I'm the legendary Eve that knows how to make one become overlord ... ...)
Uuh ... ... Gradually, my memories have started to become more clear so maybe ... ... I need just a little more time?
Kino: Hmmm? Well, I think it'd be better to remember sooner rather later.
That way, no one would have to fight anymore. Right, Eve?
Yui: ... ...
(That's right. Because I don't want anyone to get hurt, I should just make somebody the overlord.)
(But, these are all just fake memories, and I know this.)
(If everyone else remembered, there would be no reason to fight.)
Reiji: As for Eve, I'll be the one responsible for her. I will find a way to become overlord in the near future.
As for you all, you are to follow my instructions.
Shu: Hah ... ... What a pain ... ...
I'm done with this talk. I'm heading back.
Yui: Eh, Shu-san?
Reiji: Shu, wait right there. The meeting is not over yet.
Shu: It's fine as long as I scout right? If it's not that I'm going to sleep.
Reiji: Who allowed for such selfishness?
Yui: (Oh no, the atmosphere became tense ... ... !)
*CG*
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Shu: I need to be allowed to do so, I can't even sleep anymore.
Reiji: Such nonsense ... ... All I'm saying is to take responsibility.
This discussion is important in deciding the future of our family.
Shu: Annoying ... ... I have nothing to do with that.
————————————
[Two roses appear on screen with extra dialogue]
*** Rose on Shu's shoulder ***
You ... ... Are you going to take Shu's side? I will not allow it. Your master is none other than me and me alone.
*** Rose on Reiji's shoulder***
I really am ... ... furious with that man. Having everything, but uses lethargy as an excuse not to use any power at all!
————————————
Reiji: Shu! It's because of you that I'm having a hard time. Are you even aware of that!
Yui: R-Reiji-san-
Shu: Shut up. As if I would be.
Reiji: Then find out now! You're always this way.
Not only does it disturb leadership, but it also disturbs power as well.
Waiting for that ability and leaving it waving about ... ...Just thinking about it makes me sick!
Shu: Then you should just use me as you see fit.
Isn't that the duty of those who stand at the top?
Reiji: The mouth on you ... ... !
If you say those who stand above, that's also --
Your role, as the eldest son is it not!?
Yui: Eh ... ... ?
Yuma: ... ... Ha?
Kino: *chuckles* ... ... ... ...
Shu: ... ... What are you saying? The eldest son is you.
Reiji: ... ... ah- !
*CG END*
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Reiji: ... ... Excuse me.
I've made a mistake with my words ... ...
As the eldest son, I cannot forgive your depraved attitude. That is what I intended to say ... ...
Shu: I see. It must be hard being the eldest son.
*Shu leaves*
Yuma: Ah, oi! Are you really leaving!?
Kino: He really is a free spirit. I think I'll head back to my room as well.
Yuma: You idiot, you've might as well have decided to take a scolding.
Reiji: ... ... ... ...
Yui: (Reiji-san's face is pale ... ...
Besides that, the words he just said --)
PLACE: Scarlet Mansion Reiji's Room
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Yui: Reiji-san, would you like me to make something to drink ... ... ?
Reiji: No thanks ... ... I'll pass. I don't need anything, so I don't need you to attend to me.
Yui: But, you seem like you don't feel well.
Reiji: Do you not understand when I say it's not necessary?
Yui: ... ... ah!
Reiji: ... ... I did not mean to be so harsh. I am not angry. Right now I'm just ... ... I little confused.
Regarding that man ... ... With Shu as the eldest son of this family. Why did I say such bloody words--
I'm the one who worked hard for this house.
There is no way such a self-indulgent man would serve as the family head. Yet, why ... ...
Yui: (He's confused by a mix of his real memories. Anything more than this will end up hurting Reiji-san ... ... !)
It's because of the fatigue from today!
So to be confused ... ... Is alright, isn't it?
Reiji: ... ... No, it's not.
Yui: Eh?
Reiji: For some reason, I can't help but feel like I was right in what I said earlier.
I don't understand it myself. I have the knowledge and experience that should be correct, and also emotions that oppose them.
I can't see the reason for this conflict ... ...
Yui: The reason for conflict ... ...
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Selection:
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-> It's because of false memories ♙♡
Yui: That's ... ... I think it's because of your false memories ... ...
I'm sure Reiji-san has already begun to realize his true self within his heart ... ...
Reiji: What do you mean?
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-> I'm sure it's just your imagination ♟
Yui: I'm sure it's just your imagination ... ...
Reiji: No, there's no way. It is inconceivable that this sense of incongruity is just a passing thought.
Yui: ... ... That's ... ...
————————————
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Reiji: You know something don't you?
... ... Eve.
Yui: I-I ... ...
(I don't want to lie to Reiji-san when he's already suffering so much ... ... But ... ...)
(Is it really alright? Is it really the best choice to be reminded of everything?)
Reiji: You seem conflicted ... ...
I don't know what the cause is but--
I want to know the truth. Just what is the occasional glimpses of scenery that I get.
What is the reason of this discomfort within me.
Even if it was painful.
Yui: The truth, even if it's painful ... ...
Reiji: Eve, that strange story you once told me. That's the real me isn't it?
I'm sure it was "Sakamaki" ... ... That you said.
Yui: Yes ... ... That's right.
But if you know that, the current Reiji-san will be rejected ... ...
The efforts you have made here and the responsibility of living as the eldest son will be destroyed.
That's why I'm conflicted. Whether it is good for you or not to regain your memories.
Reiji: ... ... That's ridiculous. It's neither good nor bad.
If that's the truth, then I should just accept it.
... ... Am I wrong?
Yui: Reiji-san ... ...
Reiji: Right now, please tell me everything once again. I want to return to being the real me.
No matter how cruel the reality is. I want to remember everything.
Yui: (Reiji-san's, memories ... ...
They're not exactly kind ones ... ...)
(Even so, if Reiji-san has decided to face them then--)
Yui: Understood. I'll tell you everything.
Yui: You are, Reiji Sakamaki. The Sakamaki family's ... ... Second son.
Reiji: ... ... Second son?
Yui: Yes ... ... The eldest son is Shu-san. Shu-san is Reiji-san's older brother.
Reiji: Shu is ... ...My, brother ... ...
Yui: Can you not believe that?
Reiji: No ... ... Surprisingly, it's a familiar feeling.
I see, so that man has always been ahead of me ... ...
If that's so, I can understand the jealousy I sometimes feel. With such a talented person in front of me ... ...
No, they are competent but do nothing. Such a man is touted as the eldest son --
*Loud ringing noise*
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Reiji: ... ... As the second son I ... ... am the right hand man to such a man ... ...
Yui: Reiji-san! As I thought, it was unreasonable to force yourself to remember after all ... ... !
We don't know what effect it will have on your body and memories ... ... !
Reiji: No, just a bit more ... ...
I can't let myself forget ... ...
I vaguely understand ... ...
I have committed many sins ... ...
To forget those is just, unforgivable ... ...
Yui: Reiji-san ... ...
Reiji: I also don't understand it ... ...
Sometimes I see ... ... the meaning of your smile.
Yui: My smile ... ...
(To remember that ... ...)
(In order not to forget his sins of the past ... ...)
(If that's Reiji's resolution, then I absolutely can't hesitate!)
Reiji-san, there is one way to shake your memories! Surely, you must have noticed.
Please suck -- my blood.
Reiji: ... ... After all, Eve's blood was the trigger ... ...
But right now, it's rough. I may end up ... ... treating you harshly ... ...
Yui: I don't mind. If Reiji-san has made up his mind, I'll stick by you.
*Yui loosens her clothes*
(If I loosen up my clothing, surely it'll be easier for him to suck ... ... !)
Yui: Please, remember with my blood ... ... !
*Reiji comes closer*
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Reiji: Someone such as yourself really is ... ... so dear and ... ... foolish.
To the point where even reason becomes messy ... ...
Nnnn ... ... !! *bites*
Yui: Ah ... ... !! Kgh ... ...
(His fangs are, even deeper, than usual ... ... !)
Reiji: Please, don't distort your face ... ... in pain ... ...
Yet I also want to see more of your painful faces.
I can no longer, stop ... ... !
Hah, nn ... ... Nnnnn ... ...
Yui: Ou- ... ... Aaaaahh !!
(The pain has spread throughout my entire body ... ... But, I don't mind it ... ...)
(Please, remember. If that is, what you wish for ... ...)
*White flash and loud ringing noise*
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Reiji: Kgh ... ...
(This dizziness is ... ...)
Yui: Reiji ... ... san?
Could it be, that your dizziness ... ... has occurred?
Reiji: Yes ... ... But, at this rate ... ...
*Scene turns into a hazy flashback of Yui's room at the Sakamaki mansion*
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Reiji: This, sight ... ... I want to, understand ... ... The meaning of it ... ...
*Scene turns into a hazy flashback of the Eden castle's living room*
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Reiji: Ugh ... ... Aah ... ...
*Scene is back to Reiji's Room*
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Yui: (Reiji-san looks like he's in a lot of pain ... ...)
(The memories he'll regain, they aren't just the ones since he's met me.)
(He'll be remembering everything that has occured since childhood.)
(The painful, and the sad. The emptiness, and the resentment.
The envy, and the lament.)
With this, I don't know if you know, but at least ... ...
*Yui embraces him*
Reiji: Eve ... ... ? You do not ... ... have to worry ... ...
Yui: No, at the very least please let me hold you. Even if it's only a little, I want to become your strength.
Reiji: The kind of person you are.... is really, a person without specifications ... ....
To worry only about me. To never leave my side, even if you are treated badly ... ...
But, maybe it was because of you, that I was saved ... ...
Yui: Reiji-san?
Reiji: Aah, that's right. I finally understand, the meaning of that smile ... ...
Whenever I call your name, you always look back happily ... ...
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Reiji: Isn't that right ... ... ?
... ... Yui ... ...
Yui: ... ... ! Just now, that name ... ...
(It was, my name ... ...)
Reiji: Ugh, aghh.
Ugh ... ... Aaaahhh!!
*White flash/Ringing noise*
... ... ugh, kgh ... ...
Haah ... ... haah ... ... haah ... ...
Yui: Reiji, san ... ... ?
Reiji: When you look back at it... you've lived a bad life ... ...
I'm dumbfounded ... ...
Yui: Could it be ... ... !
Reiji: The magical power that was falsifying my memories. I felt it ... ... get cut off ... ...
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Reiji: I've remembered everything.
... ... Yui.
Yui: You've truely ... ... and properly, remembered everything right ... ... ?
About me ... ...
Reiji: Yes, of course ... ...
I've made you feel quite bad haven't I.
Yui: (He smiled at me ... ...
It's the usual, Reiji-san.)
Yui: ... ... san ... ...
Reiji-san!!
*She embraces him*
Reiji: To jump at me, is careless ... ... I've just sucked your blood, so try to be still.
You really are, quite the character ... ...
Yui: I'm sorry ... ... Besides that, forcing you to regain your memories must have caused you ... ... painful feelings ... ...
Reiji: My past has already happened. I've made those choices myself. There is no reason for you to apologize.
Instead, why don't you worry more about yourself?
Yui: Eh ... ... ?
Reiji: All alone in this place while holding onto your true memories ... ... That was, extremely lonely wasn't it?
Yui: ... ... Yes ... ...
... ...But, it's okay now.
It's enough that Reiji-san remembered me ... ...
Reiji: No, it's not enough for me.
Yui: Eh ... ...
*CG*
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Reiji: I treated you coldly while my memory was messed up.
That is, absolutely unacceptable.
Yui: That's ... ... Reiji-san was kind.
Reiji: I don't care what you think.
Even now, I've still left you terrible wounds. You still have fang marks on your neck ... ...
————————————
[Two roses appear on screen with extra dialogue]
*** Rose on Yui's head ***
Forgetting who I really am ... ... Thinking that I'm the eldest son ... ... I'm sure it must have been a comical look. Such as being extremely overbearing.
*** Rose on Reiji's shoulder***
Are you not able to stand? If that's the case, grab ahold of my shoulder. Yes, I am right here. Properly by your side now.
————————————
Reiji: Nnn ... ... *kiss*
Yui: Ah ... ...
Reiji: Does it hurt?
Yui: No ... ... I'm alright.
Reiji: If that's the case, I'll do this. Don't move until the wound heals--
... ... Nn ... ...*kiss*
Yui: (A gentle and healing kiss ... ... )
*CG END*
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Reiji: ... ... Thank you for not giving up on me and staying by my side.
Yui: You as well Reiji-san ... ...
Thank you for remembering me ... ...
(Reiji-san, he managed to bring all of them back. About himself ... ... the past, everything.)
(At last -- he's returned.)
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Yui's Monologue:
Reiji-san remembered everything after cutting off the magical power that sealed away his memories like a curse.
The expression he had was never clear nor sunny.
Even so, his straight gaze told me that his choice was not wrong.
Just that alone, warms my heart.
Reiji-san's hand touched my cheek as though it was caring, and although it should have been cold, it felt warm to me--.
————————————
-END-
18 notes · View notes
redflagromance · 7 months
Text
Short Story Release: Neither Whole Nor Unbroken (Barry Grivus Story- 3,036 words)
He didn't usually contract kills. But this hit was outside of his usual sphere of competence.
Barry kept an eye on the criminals and villains bustling through the convention center. There were so many options, if he really wanted to just get the first person who would agree.
But he was patient. He had one person in mind, with the specific skill set that he needed. He'd already reached out on the secure app on his phone. There hadn't been a reply, but that didn't mean anything.
A particular motion over the top of his newspaper caught his eye.
A slight figure in black was visible from his line of sight. She was in the narrow space between two booths, inches away from someone who had no idea she was present. Her posture and body language communicated control and tightly leashed violence.
He controlled the desire to smile. That was her.
As he looked up, her gaze snapped to follow a large, handsome man in red strut down the main thoroughfare. He was too busy chatting with Gene to see the assassin's whole body go tense as she honed in on him. Barry could see the whites of her eyes and her carefully controlled breathing from over here.
Even without seeing the man's face, he'd know that was the social media star, underwear model, and chronically small-time supervillain Hammer from her furious body language.
'She focused on him like a hawk,' Barry thought, bemused. 'She wants to attack him on sight, in a building with thousands of witnesses.'
The passion there always surprised him. Personally, Barry found Hammer to be a delight. But reasonable people can disagree on matters of taste. He broke his stare and cleared his throat.
"Harmes." His junior partner looked over from the other chair in their booth. "Would you mind getting coffee? I'll hold down the fort. I could really use the caffeine."
Harmes stood easily, clearly stir crazy. "Of course. The usual?"
"You know me," Barry agreed idly. "I'm a predictable man." He watched until Harmes was out of sight.
Barry folded up the newspaper and put it down on the booth.
"Echo," was all he had to say.
His contact sidled over with a swing in her hips. The furious tension in her shoulders was gone, for now.  "Mr. Grivus." Her tone was flat, but he didn't take it personally.
"Did you get my message?"
"Yes. What did you need?" The rogue had a brisk, flat tone that he didn't really care for. She must not have thrived in customer service, he thought.
He looked around in his periphery. Harmes wouldn't be back for at least a few minutes.
He reached into the secret pocket of his blazer, and pulled out a thick envelope.
"Instructions and cash. Non-consecutive bills." A deft little hand snapped out, but he pulled back the envelope in time. He leaned down. He lowered his voice.
"Just make sure it gets done."
"I can do any job related to my skill set," she retorted. Barry smiled faintly and handed over the envelope.
A few minutes later, Harmes returned. He had already resumed his paper. There was nothing to indicate he'd talked to anyone or arranged for anything that would infuriate his business partner.
About an hour later, his phone buzzed.
The notification from his secure channel said only, "job complete."
He was tempted to arrange things so that he could be present for the discovery. But it's too sloppy. More than a few people know about his grudge.
Barry is patient. Barry waits.
The end of the conference comes and goes without any mention of a discovery. It's two days, nothing said. His anticipation is only going to make the eventual fallout better. There's no news on Saturday or Sunday either. It's agonizing.
It happens. Monday, Harmes comes into work. Tired. Disgruntled. Driving an expensive car that he damn well knows Harmes would never buy.
He's thrilled. He can't quite keep the predatorial satisfaction off of his face. As he pours coffee Barry casually asks, "Did something happen to your car?"
Harmes is still. Their expression is best described as dangerous.
He has a frisson of discomfort, a bad feeling that he's been caught.
Harmes can't possibly know, Barry tells himself. There's no way.
"No," Harmes lies lightly. "It's just in the shop. It'll be back, as good as ever." Their fingertips turn pale as they clench their teacup.
His jaw is tense.
'Not if I have anything to say about it.'
"That is terrible," Barry responds. He can't help it. It's too heartfelt to keep in. "That old heap is the worst thing I've ever seen. Holly agrees with me."
Harmes narrows their eyes at him. He's imagining the suspicion there. Did he overplay his hand?
No. It's fine. Harmes already knew he hated the car. That's the whole purpose of the exercise, the reason to contract a rogue mechanic. It would be more suspicious if he was empathetic or neutral.
"My mother isn't always right," Harmes says stiffly.
He's irritated now. Even though he knows that Harmes is lying! His hackles are up. Barry excuses himself to his office and paces. He does some deep breathing to calm down. He checks his message again to confirm that the mechanic really did get rid of Harmes' car once and for all. The message still says "job complete." It's unambiguous. The car has been murdered.
"It's dead," he says grimly. "I paid a ludicrous amount."
The empty office didn't answer him.
"It was a good use of 500 thousand dollars," he says darkly. "I never want to see that thing again."
He stops. He had been pushing down the urge to contract his hitwoman again, but for what he'd paid her? She can cope with a follow up question.
Barry glanced to the main office once more, to confirm that Harmes isn't lurking out there. His junior associate is in their private office. He won't be seen. He messages the hit woman.
"The car is definitely not repairable?"
He waits a while. She must be working. Barry lets out a sigh and gets back to work. He examines the invitation he received for another company's event with a sigh. The owner came to his booth personally at the conference to say hello and give invites to him and Harmes.
The owner is new, but doing admirably to establish herself in the villainous industry. He's a little fond of her. He nearly hired her, in fact. But Harmes was just a little more… innovative.
He sends his confirmation of attendance. It would be a bit of a snub to not attend.
His phone buzzes. The hitwoman has responded, "It was barely holding together before I got to it. I sent a letter saying that it's totalled and detailing the insurance payout for a replacement."
Barry chuckles. He steals a glance at the office. He narrows his eyes.
Harmes is standing by Janine's desk, holding a familiar invitation.
Hm. He pushes open his door and takes a step out, curious. He takes his nearly-empty cup of coffee to have something to do with his hands and a pretense for going out.
"decline," Harmes is saying. "I won't be alienating anyone too important?"
…Ah. He controls the urge to smile. He wonders if Harmes even remembers that Sunny Aviichen interviewed for the same position at Grivus Events that Harmes did, all those years ago.
"No," Janine agrees. She's examining the invitation. "It would be good to go, but I'm sure they're not looking for you specifically."
…He sips the last of his coffee. He had actually had the impression that Ms. Aviichen was quite eager for Harmes to see how well she was doing in her career. Ms. Aviichen seemed rather competitive, even before Harmes got the position. People like that never enjoyed losing.
"Barry?" Janine looks up and spots that he's already out of his office. "You'll represent the firm at this?" She holds up the invitation.
"Of course." He agrees calmly.
"Great." Harmes flashes a smile at him and Janine. "I have pottery class that day."
Janine snorts. "I wouldn't tell anyone that's why you're declining to attend the Vice President's birthday party."
Harmes shrugs and goes back into their office. Barry finds himself watching until the door closes.
He's always enjoyed that about Harmes, he muses. They just don't give a damn.
Ahem.
Someone has cleared their throat. He looks at her.
Janine's face is amused. "Barry, I saw that poor Harmes didn't drive the usual car today." Her lips twitch. "Would you know anything about that?"
"No," he lies smoothly. He tilts his head at her in faux confusion. "But I'm very busy today." He busies himself with getting some water and leaves his coffee cup in the sink.
"Mm," Janine agrees, in a way that lets him know she's certain he's full of it. She pulls open a drawer and withdraws a yellow envelope. "Tell Echo that I said hello."
He frowns at her. She knows too much. She knows everything that happens. "I will," Barry agrees, defeated.
The car is vanquished, he tells himself. He goes back to work. He's finally slayed the beast. It only cost him a year's earnings to never have to see that wretched amalgamation of rusted metal again. His mood begins to lift.
'I wonder what Harmes will buy with the insurance money,' he wonders indulgently. Harmes' actual insurance would never have covered a suitable car, of course. Luckily, the rogue mechanic is also certified in car insurance. She was only to keep half of the money he gave her, and have the other 250 thousand allotted to Harmes.
…He's not certain what a half decent car costs, but surely that would have covered it.
Waiting to see what Harmes buys with his money is the most interesting part of his week. The pleasant anticipation gets him through the vexation that rises when he discovers that that little worm Duke has made a dinner appointment via Janine. "We can't cancel," he says darkly.
"No, but I'll know not to take further appointments with him," Janine says, a little embarrassed.
Barry sighs. "You couldn't have known. I didn't tell you." He turns his gaze out of the window, to the parking lot. "We'll go, find out it's not a good fit, and not take his business."
"That'll work," Janine agrees. She tracks where he's looking, but she doesn't say anything this time.
Harmes is still driving the rental to work.  Surely they'll buy one soon. The rental isn't their style at all. Barry's anticipation builds as the work days go on.
And then Harmes comes to work in something so wretched and old that he hears it two blocks away.
Barry stands up at his desk. That could be anyone's car clanking. But he has a miserable premonition. Slowly, he walks out to the main office.
Janine must have the same instinct. She's already at the window to pull back the curtains. She starts to laugh as Harmes pulls into the parking lot in a positively ancient truck.
"No," Barry breathes, wounded.
Janine starts snorting between gasping laughs.
He puts a hand on his heart. "This can't be happening." It hurts. Harmes is killing him. Harmes is doing him harm. This has to be purposeful.
Harmes drives over a curb. There's a demonic scrape as something unfortunate happens to the underside of the already ill-used vehicle. The car stops. Harmes clearly struggles to open the door. After a few seconds, they kick it open. It's somehow even more dented now.
Janine is fully laughing, and obviously struggling to keep the tears of mirth down. It's worse that she's pitying him. 
Barry closes his eyes. "I'm going to go lie down." He feels faint.
Janine passes him an eye mask and hiccups a stop to her giggles. "Set a timer for your 10 o'clock, sir."
"Thank you," he says, bleak. He's going to become one with the darkness. He's going to break down into his components to escape the pain of reality. And then the door closes behind him and he has another idea.
He could sink into a black miasma of despair. But instead, he calls the mechanic. Maybe there's a solution.
As soon as they pick up, he starts to speak. "Harmes must not have had an adequate budget."
There's a pause. "Hello to you too," says a disgruntled voice. "What are you talking about? I sent them 200 thousand dollars."
"250 thousand," Barry corrects offhand.
The mechanic makes an acknowledging noise. "That's an adequate budget," she says dryly. "Harmes could get any nice car on the market."
Oh. "Perhaps. But there's a rusted 2013 farm truck in my parking lot," Barry confides in a tortured whisper.
There's a bark of surprised laughter so loud that he pulls the phone away from his ear.
Barry scowls. He wishes that other people would stop laughing about this disaster. He crosses his arms and waits with ill grace for her to calm down.
The mechanic controls herself. "Is there some kind of outdoor hobby that might have prompted that choice?"
He freezes. He's finally compared Harmes' regular schedule and the timeframe that the car died in. He knows what happened. "Rocking."
"....what?"
Barry ignores the question and starts to pace. "The car gave out on some muddy back road," he says to himself. Damnit. He curses himself for a fool. "Harmes thinks the solution is a better backroads vehicle." He hurries to his computer and checks his theory. Yes. The exact model is the first example of a reliable used vehicle that results when you search for heavy duty trucks.
"Is there something else I can do for you?" the mechanic asks. There's the sound of a car door opening in the background. "I don't think a follow-up letter from the insurance company saying that the new vehicle is subpar would convince your associate to reconsider."
"No." Barry clears his throat. "You're right. You did your part." He runs a hand through his hair and winces when he realizes he's messed up the style. "Thank you."
"Have a nice day." The mechanic hangs up first.
There is a grieving process. Barry takes his lunch in the attic so that he can gaze into the parking lot undisturbed. The truck… it is wretched. It is a pathetic thing.
He tries convincing himself that it isn't so terrible. He wanted to indirectly buy Harmes a car that was safe and made them happy. The truck, however damaged the body may be, seems to be in better shape than the old thing. It doesn't even give off white smoke. That's certainly an improvement.
He spends a brief dip in the bargaining stage. Perhaps Harmes would buy a second car, a work-appropriate car? How much money would he need to give for that?
…it's a moot point. Harmes doesn't accept gifts.
Barry lets out a beleaguered sigh.
The week passes. The truck is an open wound. It only falls to the back of his mind in the wake of the disastrous dinner meeting with Marc.
…It wasn't his best showing. He hadn't even considered that the weasel was a desirable client for his junior partner. That oversight was embarrassing in retrospect.
He comes into work too shame-faced to even sigh about the truck. It isn't there yet anyway. Barry writes an apology and leaves it on Harmes' desk.
There's some excitement that afternoon when Gene pioneers a new and exciting way to get a felony charge. But Barry can't really enjoy it, because Harmes is avoiding him so studiously that they miss out on the resulting office party.
Eventually, Barry coaxes Harmes out. He's tentatively hopeful that he hasn't done anything irreparable to their working relationship.
Two mornings later, Janine gasps.
Barry makes a questioning sound. He's facing the counter, making his morning coffee before heading into his office.
"You're going to want to see this, Barry."
He puts down the cup with a clink. He turns around slowly. Her serious tone has his full attention.
Janine is standing at the window. Harmes doesn't drive over the curb this time, carefully whipping around the corner in a precision turn.
"This is worse," Barry says numbly.
Janine pats his back in sympathy. "It is," she says. Even she can't laugh about this. She goes back to her desk solemnly.
Barry can't move. He's still stuck there staring out the window in open-mouthed horror when Harmes walks in.
"Good morning, Janine. Good morning, Barry."
Janine responds. He can't.
Harmes walks over to him. "New car," they say cheerfully. "I'm just going to use the truck for rocking." Keys jingle.
He tries to respond. The sound he makes is a croak.
"Isn't it nice?" Harmes asks innocently. They indicate the bright red, shiny sports car in their parking spot.
Harmes bought a volcano car. Harmes gave his money to that insufferable businessman Duke.
Barry finally tears his gaze away and makes eye contact with Harmes.
Harmes is waiting for it. They hold prolonged eye contact.
"Marc gave it to me." Harmes keeps staring at him. There is something unhinged in those eyes. Barry blinks, and four seconds pass. Harmes doesn't blink.
His stomach twists faintly in disgust. Marc? Harmes was on first name terms with that twerp now? He can't find the wherewithal to muster a response.
The seconds stretch on. Janine staples something. Someone washes their hands in the next room. Harmes is still looking deeply into his eyes in some sort of sick dominance play.
"That's nice of him," Barry says weakly. He looks down as blood begins thumping in his ears and dimming his vision. He retreats into his office.
He's lost. Barry knows that now. He sits at his desk and buries his face in his hands.
Did Harmes know? Did Harmes realize he'd assassinated the car and do this to punish him? Or was it even worse- was it fate? Had he pushed Harmes and Duke closer together?
Barry inhales a long, shuddering breath. He lets go of his face. He accepts the total loss, and he gets back to work.
NOTE:
This was originally posted on my Patreon, where I am continually writing other character stories for Deplorably Devoted. Check it out here!
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Tw: Physical assault mention
I was recently traumatized, but this time my response has been abnormal. Previously I'd shut down, shove my emotions in, then cry about it later, and switch between being cool around people and sobbing alone. I usually write songs, draw about it, something, but this time I'm reacting much differently?
My emotions were very clear the whole time. I had a fight response instead of my usual fawn/flight/freeze. I did not shut up when people got angry (I literally couldn't - I tried once). I had to calm down on my own terms.
But following this I've noticed I've become more unpredictable? I'll switch rapidly between being furious, throwing things (something I've done about 4 times in very separate times in my life), being over-the-top happy (even to the point of downright laughing at anything, even if I'd normally find it grim or become sad or tense at it or a situation), breaking down into self-esteem and worth spirals, and being so tired I can't bring myself to care.
I also fall into what I can only describe as perhaps non-emotional flashbacks? Where I essentially mix into the event and think it's happening again. The emotions usually go away quickly but it will come in and out for hours, as opposed to a flashback I've had, where it was quick, I was fully pulled into it, and the emotions were full, real, and lasting. My delusions and hallucinations have also spiked since then, especially since the event triggered a deep-rooted anxiety that my delusions are now mimicking (if that makes sense).
I don't actually tend to notice when I've swung into any emotions, my best awareness is bordering what's happening (which is what's happening right now). Usual calming tactics don't work and I lash out in ways I normally wouldn't (I snap at people, say rude things without being able to restrain myself, even swear at a couple of people, something I, as a general rule, don't do unless necessary for my safety).
I don't know what's happening, because it's so wildly different than my normal 'cry & talk & calm' approach, but it's drastically affecting me and making school extremely difficult, especially since while in these states I've almost asked to be taken out of (public) school without realizing I'm not thinking clearly because I can't handle the mood swings on top of various other things on top of school. We've worked hard to get me accomodations for school, though, and I'd feel guilty if I gave that up + my only method to talk to people, so I'm incredibly lost.
I don't know what's happening and my therapy appointments are too far apart for me to ask in a timely manner, and this is too sensitive for me to share with them. Do you maybe know why I'm reacting so differently? I know I can't expect a stranger on the internet to know everything about me but occasionally internet strangers have ideas I can look into, and if nothing else I need to get this out. Sorry for the long ask and if I'm pinning my problems onto you.
Hi anon,
I'm so sorry not only about what happened to you but what you've been experiencing as a result. Please know you're not alone and there's no need to apologize for this ask.
Unfortunately I'm not too sure why this may be happening. I will say that healing isn't linear, and so it's expected to have times where symptoms can get a little worse. I think it's possible you may be developing some new symptoms that may help getting a professional's opinion on.
I hope I could help at least somewhat. If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Please let us know if you need anything.
-Bun
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coonhoundcat · 2 years
Text
This, the Hill | Part 2 | Villain x Hero Snippet
-The words stopped working halfway through. I finished it anyway-
Part 1 | Part 3
"How... how are they?"
The attendant cringed, determinedly staring at their clipboard, jaw tensed. "... Not good." Silence pressed them further. "Worse, even."
"Can I see them?"
"They're not well, Hero. They... keep having episodes. They're delusional-- they keep talking about Supervillain, saying they're here-- they howl every time they're returned to their cell. We've had to replace our monitors twice. They scared the crap out of both our interns. It needed to happen, but still."
Hero snapped out of their own worried stare, gaze suddenly sharp. "They're still using their powers?"
"That's the worst part-- they fried our cell cameras two days in a row. We talked to them about it, of course-- but the things are still blacking out for hours at a time. It shouldn't even be possible-- they won't eat, but we must be forcing enough blockers down their throat--they shouldn't be able to do anything."
Hero pressed a palm to their cheek, absolutely worrying their lower lip. "Have you seen how they do it?"
"No. The mothe- the patient only does it in the night, not at any particular time, and never on any particular day. Hero-" they snatched at the hero's arm, nails digging desperately into the skin. Their eyes were impossibly wide. "THEY GET OUT. Whenever the feed comes back online-- they're out of their bed restraints, and the walls-- They've been throwing themselves at the WALLS until they-" the attendant choked, face haunted and pale.
"You.... you didn't station anyone inside?"
The attendant slowly dropped their shuddering grip, leaving hero's sleeve to darken, sticky and warm. "We did. They'd all wake up on the floor--//couldn't remember a thing from the night before. It's-"
"I want to see them."
".... Are you sure?"
Attendant shivered, breaking eye contact.
"... Come with me."
They headed down silent halls, turning down cream corridors with dark doors and nurses that avoided looking up entirely as they hurried past.
The attendant came to a dead stop, and Hero pressed past, swinging to face the cell's small viewport.
It was light inside-- so bright in contrast to the mellow hallways that hero could hardly believe the figure inside, laid across a plain, white bed.
"They're asleep?"
The attendant stiffened, hand suspended just before the door lock. ".... Long night." Their palm pressed into the scanner.
The door opened without a sound.
With a long, slow breath out, Hero stepped forward.
They'd sat side by side, just months before. They'd fought for years before that. And here Villain was, limp, sprawled across cold medical sheets. Still in a straight jacket. With bed straps over top all of it. That made Hero angry. How the hell Villain was even able to sleep like this- their own friend, the one they'd embraced-- set up like some kind of animal-
Hero grit their teeth, immediately going to undo the leather straps. They laid a hand on the steel buckles, and Villain screamed.
"GET OFF ME GET OFF GET OFF-"
"Villain. It's me. Villain-"
They thrashed against the restraints, kicking off half the sheets and arching horribly, contorting as if to snap their arms free of the jacket, shrieking as the leather cut into their chest and stomach.
"Hey- hey- hey! VILLAIN. Look at me- look. It's Hero- I'm Hero. I'm here."
They collapsed in on themselves, shivering violently, gasping through shredded vocal cords. "Hero?"
Hero watched their eyes dilate. The whole side of their face was scraped a bright, raw pink.
"Thank GOD- You have to help me- they're here- Supervillain is here- in the walls- they won't LISTEN- help me- please, please HELP-"
Hero fumbled with the buckles, snapping three or four open before taking Villain by the shoulders and yanking their heaving body into a tight hug. "I'm here, I'm HERE- I'll help you, I promise, I'll help you."
How could just a few months- There had clearly been something wrong the night on the roof, but this-
They rubbed a soothing hand up and down the villain's back, slowing as their fingers ticked over protruding vertebrae. They'd fought not that long ago. And now-- they could even feel Villain shift beneath them as their hands touched on tender skin. Bruises in places they shouldn't even be able to reach. And in this room- Hero finally took in the walls. Bent, permanently deformed in places-- the panels shouldn't even be able to do that, what force-? And the blood. Old, but decorating every side. Oh God.
"I'm gonna help you, Villain, I promise. I just- I need you to do something for me, okay?"
They felt the weak nod, the shuddering breath at their shoulder.
"I need you to eat, okay? And...and I need you to take the medication. I need you to stop fighting it. I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you safe from Supervillain. You just gotta do that for me, okay?"
Hero never wanted to hear them this defeated, not ever again.
".... okay."
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theringers · 3 years
Text
quiet - lando norris
request: On your prompt list can I have 64 and 4 with Lando please? Lol thank you :)
prompt: 4) “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.” 64) “I never knew someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers.”
if this is your gif and you want me to take it down, please let me know.
Tumblr media
warnings: 18+ NSFW, fingering, dirty talk, semi public sex
The club was loud and the energy was high. It was only a few hours after your boyfriend Lando had gotten podium at the Austrian Grand Prix and you were so proud of him.
You two decided to go out and celebrate the win in style. The speakers were booming and you could feel the vibrations inside your body. You looked around the room at all of the people here, wondering what they were here to celebrate.
It sure wasn't as good as what you were here to celebrate. A woman walked over to your booth carrying a large bottle of Tito's vodka with a sparkler on top. One added bonus of having a boyfriend like Lando: bottle service at the clubs.
The woman dropped the bottle on the table along with a few shot glasses. She smiled and walked away. You immediately reached for the bottle and poured two hefty shots for the two of you.
Lando's friends had made their way to the dance floor so they could gather their shots after. Picking up the glasses, you smiled at your curly-haired boyfriend. "Congratulations, I'm so proud of you," you said.
You handed him the second shot glass and clinked your glass with his. "Cheers," he said, downing the burning liquid into his throat. You did the same, feeling that all too familiar, yet comforting, burn.
You put the shot glass back down on the table and scooted closer to him in the booth. You crossed one leg over the other towards him, exposing more leg than your tight black dress already did. His hand draped over your knee and upper thigh and you looked up at him and smiled.
He smiled back. "You look amazing tonight," he said.
You could feel your cheeks burn from the compliment. Or was it the straight vodka hitting you already? Not like that shot you just took was your first, anyway.
"Thank you," you replied. His hand began to inch up your leg, getting closer and close to the hem of your dress.
You leaned in closer to him to whisper something in his ear.
"Lando fucking Norris!" A loud voice came from the entrance of the booth, interrupting you.
His eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet. "No way, what are you guys doing here? Come join us!"
It wasn't unusual for Lando to run into people he knew in clubs like this, especially when he traveled the world for his work. The booth suddenly got crowded, maybe a little too crowded for your liking. You were squeezed between Lando and one of his friends, acquaintances, someone he knew, you weren't too sure.
You went from having his hands trace shapes on your skin to now being between two random pairs of jeans. "I need to use the restroom," you said, excusing yourself.
You stood up and headed towards the restroom, passing the bar on the way. You did a double-take and decided to stop at the bar. "I'll take a shot of vodka," you said, sounding defeated. "And, you can put it on that guy's tab over there." She pointed to the booth now filled with people and chuckled.
The bartender nodded. As soon as the shot was in front of you, you picked it up and downed it. "Thanks," you nodded and headed to the bathroom, throat still burning from the second shot you had taken in a short amount of time.
As you were opening the bathroom door, you felt a hand grab your waist. "Where do you think you're going?" Your boyfriend whispered in your ear.
You smirked at the door, your boyfriend not even seeing your expression, and rolled your eyes. "Just taking a break. I was looking forward to a night with you is all."
His hand still on your waist, he spun you around. "I'll send them all home if I have to." He had a devilish grin on his face.
"No need," you said, sounding a bit annoyed. You wanted to spend time celebrating your boyfriend and showing him as much appreciation as he deserves. You placed your hand on the swinging bathroom door getting ready to push it open.
"Come on baby, don't do this." He began to slur his words, but not too much. Just enough that indicated he had plenty to drink. "You look so god damn sexy tonight, I want to spend the night with you." His eyes looked you up and down and you swore you could see him drool.
His eyes lingered at your cleavage just a little too long before coming back up to meet your eyes. His hand traveled from your waist down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze. "You know I can't resist you in this dress."
Memories from a few months ago began to flood your mind. You had worn this same dress out to a friend's birthday party and all Lando could talk about before you left the house was you coming back. He wouldn't shut up about wanting to undress you right then and there, and he was insanely jealous of anyone else who got to see you in that dress.
"I know you can't," you nodded in agreement. "That's why I wore it." You flashed him a cheeky smile.
He acted on impulse and pushed the bathroom door open, nudging you inside. "You know, after all these years, you still drive me crazy." He pushed you against the inside of the door and roughly planted his lips on yours.
He tasted like need and alcohol, which usually ended in a great night for both of you. His lips were rough and he moved in sloppy motions, but you weren't complaining. His hand was firmly placed on your jaw while the other began to grope your breasts.
You stopped for a moment and looked up at him with devilish eyes. He immediately grabbed your bum in his hands and lifted you into his arms, setting you down on the sink. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began to grind into your core, moaning between kisses. "Fuck," he said, lifting his mouth off of yours and placing it on your neck. He roughly kissed all over your neck and collarbones. One hand held your head to the side while the other gripped your thigh.
His fingers began to push the hemline of the dress further and further up your legs. "I need you right now," you said into his ear.
His hand stayed firm on your upper thigh but his long fingers began to graze the front of your lace thong ever so slightly. "Shit," you muttered, followed by a few soft moans. "Don't tease me like this."
He let out a small laugh against your skin but continued kissing. The pad of his thumb pressed against you with more pressure now, but still not enough. "God damnit, Lando," you said.
"Someone's needy?" He joked. He removed his fingers, earning a groan of disappointment from you. He took two of his fingers in his mouth and licked them until they were wet enough.
He pushed your panties to the side and inserted two fingers inside of you. The sensation made your head spin. You spread your legs wider, earning a smile from him. "Oh god," you moaned, leaning back and using your arms as support. "Your fingers feel incredible."
He smirked at you. “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”
In your drunken stupor, you debated being honest with him. “What if the idea of being caught is turning me on right now?” You said it anyway.
“Jesus,” he said, closing his eyes so he could focus on the task at hand. He worked his fingers inside of you, curling them to find the most pleasant spot that made you cry out in pleasure. His other hand pushed the neck of your dress down, exposing your chest. He took one of your nipples and played with it between his fingers.
He could feel your walls tighten around his fingers and he saw your body visibly tense up. “I’m gonna-”
“I know,” he said, keeping his pace. “Cum for me, baby.”
His words sent you over the edge. “Shit,” was the only word you could manage to get out as your body began to slightly convulse under him.
He removed his fingers and licked your juices off of them before placing a kiss on your lips. You were able to taste yourself and you knew it turned him on. “I never knew someone could cum that fast from just a few fingers,” he said.
You giggled. “For you, anything is possible.” You hopped off of the sink and adjusted your dress.
You both gathered yourself in the mirror to make sure you were at least presentable to the rest of the club.
Lando opened the bathroom door only to find a line of annoyed drunk people staring at the two of you, fully aware of what you just got into.
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