#if it hadn’t been for that I think we would have left much earlier
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Wing Man Part 10
Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.
Chapter Summary: It’s no longer Halloween, but the ghosts from yours and Eddie’s pasts are coming back to haunt you.
5.7 Words
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You had always heard the phrase “speak of the Devil and he shall appear”, but you didn’t think that line was supposed to be so literal.
You and Eddie starred in shock as your shared connection stood in front of the two of you, smiling at Eddie as if he were an old friend. If Chris noticed any animosity in your faces, it didn’t show. Either he was oblivious, or you and Eddie were good at hiding what you two were feeling right now.
“I thought I saw you in the lobby earlier.” Chris said, walking over to the two of you, ruining your moment together. “I didn’t think you were one for the theater since you never did come and see the Spring play that I worked so hard on.”
Eddie looked weirded out by this, to say the least.
“Sorry, I was busy trying to finish the campaign that you started.” Eddie said. “I didn’t exactly have time to go.”
Well, you were really in the middle of this now. You shifted slightly closer to Eddie, looking over Chris. He was almost unrecognizable from his school photos and how you remembered him on that day. No longer the pale and scrawny kid with the constantly pissy face, Chris was actually smiling and it was honestly off-putting. He looked more tan than he had in school, but there was a faint orange tint to his skin that looked unnatural under the yellow lighting of the marquis.
A fake tan. That’s what it had to be. Chris was sporting a fake tan for his role as Rocky.
You should have been Riff Raff. Or not here at all. You thought to yourself.
“Are you still mad that I left Hellfire?” Chris asked. “That was four years ago! Plus, I handed everything over to you, didn’t I? You got to finally be the Dungeon Master, and I got to find something I enjoyed. I think it’s a fair trade.”
Eddie still didn’t seem impressed, but kept his mouth shut. Chris turned his attention to you.
“I’ve seen you before.” he said. “You come here a lot, don’t you?”
You blinked in surprise. There’s no way you would have missed him if he came to this show a lot, right?
“Yeah, how did you know?” you asked slowly.
“I’ve been running tech for the show since March.” Chris had a smug look on his face that made your stomach churn. If he was working backstage, that would make sense why you hadn’t seen him before. “And I got to be Rocky for this run. What did you all think of the show?”
“The movie was fun.” Eddie offered, and you had the feeling that he was trying to decide if he should be honest or to let go of what happened four years ago.
You, however, were more willing to be honest in the moment. “I’ve seen better performances.” you said bluntly. “The movie was fine, but I expected more for the Halloween showing. Half of the shadow cast was completely different than before and they didn’t seem to know their cues. Also, what happened to the Virgin Sacrifice?”
Instead of being off-put, Chris just laughed and shrugged. “There’s been some recent changes to the theater management.” he explained. “It caused a bit of a commotion and there were some disagreements. Unfortunately, things like this happen in live theater. A lot of the cast bailed on the show at the last minute.”
That made sense, as much as it disappointed you. If there was an internal problem with the company running the show, it would end up bleeding out into the performance. You felt your annoyance calm down a little. It’s not like Chis was the one to run the show into the ground.
“Well, It’s been nice seeing you again.” Eddie said, as his hand slipped into yours again, “We have to get going, it’s getting late.”
You gave Chris a half-hearted wave and a goodbye, but then Chris started talking again right as you two were turning around to leave.
“Just so you know, auditions will be opening for the shadow cast.” He said. “We’re skipping the next two months to get the show back on track. In case either of you are interested.”
You froze in place for a moment and Eddie noticed and dropped your hand. You turned around to look at Chris, wondering if he was being serious right now.
“Auditions are never open. Even for the understudies.” you said. “I heard that you needed to know someone on the inside to even have a chance at auditioning.”
“Well, we know each other now, don’t we?” he asked with a smile that had too many teeth for your comfort. “I can get you an audition, if you’re really interested. I think you’d be great on stage.” Chris was looking at you up and down, as if considering you. “I can see you as a great Janet.”
“I’ve always wanted to audition.” you finally admitted. “I’ve been wanting to be a part of this show since I started coming here.”
Chris dug into his bag and pulled out a card for the theater, and scribbled down a date and time on the back. “This is when we’re holding auditions. It’s invite only.” he said. “I’ll put in a good word for you, if you’re serious.”
You took the card, looking it over. Maybe you and Eddie had been a little hard on the guy. Chris was right, it had been a long time since he was in high school, and people change. You changed. It’d be pretty hypocritical of you to brush this off completely. Everyone here was an adult, right? And this was something you’d wanted for years now. Could you really just pass this up?
“I’ll be there.” you said, without thinking, and when Chris offered his hand, you reached out and shook it. “Thank you.” you added.
Chris winked at you and said goodbye to Eddie and turned to leave, leaving you and your date alone outside the theater. By now, almost all of the movie-goers had left and the parking lot was nearly empty save for a few cars.
“Holy shit.” you said, turning to Eddie when Chris was out of earshot. “I did not expect to run into him tonight. Or ever again.”
Eddie let out a small sharp breath that could have either been a laugh or a sigh. “I thought he just disappeared off the face of the earth when he graduated.” His eyes drifted to the card you held in your hand; the same hand that he had been holding on and off all night. “His hair grew out a lot.”
“Yeah, I think it’s even longer than yours now.” You agreed, tucking away the card into your own bag and turning to fully face him again now.
The mood between you two had shifted from what it had been before Chris interrupted the two of you. Whatever moment the two of you were about to have had passed, and as much as you wanted to kiss Eddie, it wasn’t the time. You didn’t want to force anything after the moment had been ruined.
Dammit, Chris. Why couldn’t he have shown up before the movie started? Okay, maybe you were still able to feel pissed at the guy.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” Eddie said, and this time you reached out for his hand instead. Chris might have cockblocked your first kiss with Eddie, but you weren’t going to let him completely ruin the night. You didn’t miss the slight squeeze of his hand as you led him towards your car.
“I know I totally trashed the performance, but I did have a lot of fun with you tonight.” you told Eddie. “Other than him showing up, I really did like spending time with you.”
“Next date, it’s gonna be just us.” he said. “No chaperones and no Chris-es.”
“So, you want to go on another date with me?” you asked, thinking that maybe the moment wasn’t as ruined as you had thought.
“I’ll call you this weekend.” Eddie promised.
He leaned in, and you closed your eyes. Warm lips brushed against your cheek, and you tried not to feel too disappointed. It was still something, after all. The two of you hugged, and you breathed in the faint smell of cigarettes, leather, and popcorn.
“Not if I call you first.” you said, finding that line was starting to be a small inside joke between the two of you. You hoped that there’d be a lot more shared jokes together in the future.
You got in your car, and made your way home. Despite the small hiccup, you were starting to feel more confident about the future. Things were going well with Eddie, and you finally had the chance to do something you’d had your heart set on for years now.
Moving forward wasn’t so bad.
Eddie was torn on how tonight went. You had fun, and you said that you had fun with him. He had been ready to lean in and plant one on you to make this feel more official but then Chris just had to show up and ruin the night. As usual.
It might not have been as bad if he hadn’t started talking about auditions and that was what made Eddie’s stomach twist. You had been mentioned enough times that this was something you had always wanted to do, and Eddie admired that a lot. He loved that you wanted to be on stage like that, and if you were in the cast he was sure that he’d show up for you, just as you had been showing up for Corroded Coffin.
But Chris had been the one to make the offer to you with his new muscles and hair that was longer than Eddie’s. Eddie didn’t want to feel jealous, and most of him felt like the two of you had bonded enough over talking shit about the guy that there was no way you’d had an interest in him.
So why did a smaller voice in the back of Eddie’s head feel like this was starting to crumble already? You had talked about changing and being different since you had been in school, and Chris looked different and had pointed out that he had graduated almost four years ago.
“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you had said when he had been taking in the site of so many people who looked and dressed more like him.
You hadn’t meant anything by it, Eddie was sure of that. You didn’t seem like the type to put someone down for what they were or weren’t able to accomplish. That still didn’t change the fact that he was a 20 year old still in high school, while you and Chris were out in the real world working and living on your own. Presumably. Eddie didn’t know where Chris was living and didn’t care to.
It was pretty late in the evening now, and he found himself wishing he could call Ronnie right now. Actually, he was starting to wish that he had talked to her earlier, had listened to her and taken her more seriously a few years ago.
Three more stupid credits and I’m out. That’s what he’d told himself since September when he walked into school for his sixth year in high school. He could coast through most of his classes, and he just needed to push through until June.
1986. That was going to be his year. He just needed to get through the rest of 1985 first.
Just as Eddie was about to go and crash in his bed the phone rang. You were the only one who would be calling him this late, and the knot in his stomach only tightened. You hadn’t been judgemental to his face about his education (or lack there-of) but what if it did matter?
He didn’t think you’d just up and drop him because Chris Morrison of all people showed up with his stupid long hair, offering you something that you wanted so badly. Right? Then again, Eddie hadn’t exactly been the best at communicating with you at all, and he had disappeared on you more than once without notice. Chris hadn’t hesitated with giving you a way to contact him.
Expecting the worst, Eddie tried to remain calm as he reached the kitchen.
“Hey.” Eddie said into the phone, “Get home safe?”
“Eddie?”
That voice wasn’t yours. The last time Eddie heard that voice, Eddie had been covered in blood and soot in Police Chief Hopper’s office. Her voice had echoed so loud that Hopper had even flinched as she cursed him out for ruining a chance for both of them.
“Paige?” Eddie asked in disbelief, as if he were talking to a ghost.
For fuck’s sake, Eddie this isn’t something we can just reschedule I know this was your shot this was my shot I stuck my neck out for you I know I’m at the police station What did you do? No room for a little tarnish, huh? Don’t be an asshole I’ve been an asshole all along, I’m just the last person in Hawkins to accept it Fuck you.
“I’ve tried calling you a few times but you weren’t home.” Paige said.
“You could have left a message.” Eddie’s voice was colder than he meant it. First Chris, and now Paige. What sick prank was the universe playing on him today?
“I figured you wouldn’t call back if I did.” Paige said, honestly.
The clock in the kitchen read that it was late in Hawkins and not quite as late in California, assuming that is where Paige was. He wanted to hang up the phone, leave her on a dead end line, just as she had done to him almost two years ago.
Don’t be an asshole. He told himself. What had happened between the two of them had been the perfect shit storm of events. Eddie had flown, reached out towards the sun, only to crash and burn. He had been reminded of what it really meant to have Munson attached to his name.
Eddie had been the one to fuck up, not Paige.
“I probably wouldn’t have.” Eddie admitted.
“Are you going to hang up on me now?”
Eddie paused. “No.”
“Good.”
“You know it’s... really late.”
“I know. I probably should have called you in the morning but I thought it was worth a shot calling tonight. Besides, it’s not like you have school in the morning.”
He didn’t, but that was only because he was planning on skipping tomorrow because he’d been out so late tonight.
Eddie’s mind went through a rolodex of anything that Paige Warner would want to talk to him about after all this time. Was she wanting to finally know how he ended up in holding? Had her brother told her about how he was now Freak King Supreme in Hawkins? Shit, did he have an estranged child with her that he didn’t know about? They had always used protection but shit happens and who could blame her from hiding a kid from a guy who she had to bail out of jail and had no money-
“I’m sorry.” Paige said. “For how things ended between the two of us. A lot happened after you called and I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after.”
Eddie blinked and stared at the faded wallpaper of the kitchen, trying to make sense of the apology. She was apologizing? Why?
“I....” Eddie swallowed. “I think I should be the one apologizing here.”
“Oh, you definitely owe me an apology, too.” Despite her words, there was no bite behind it, no malice. “But I’m offering up my apology first as an olive branch.”
How come ever since that night at the Palace Arcade, everything had started being so weird for Eddie?
“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Eddie asked as he rubbed his face, the evening was starting to catch up to him now.
“For blowing up at you at 4 am when you needed help.” Paige said.
“It’s.. It’s fine. I deserved it.” Eddie leaned against the refrigerator and slid down. His gaze drifted up to the popcorn ceiling of the trailer’s kitchen, picking out constellations in the flaky white plaster.
“Maybe, but I should have heard you out after I had cooled off.” Paige said.
“So, you’re calling me in the middle of the night two years later just so we can talk about what happened?” Eddie asked.
“Not completely. I’m calling because I want to give you a second chance.”
“Uhhh.....” Had Eddie heard that correctly?
“A lot happened with WR Records after you bailed on the audition.” Paige continued. “I don’t want to go into details over the phone, but the short version is Corroded Coffin might have another shot.”
Oh, it can get weirder.
“Wait, what? Really?” Eddie sat up straight, gripping the phone with a grip so tight his knuckles were turning white.
“I’m coming back to Hawkins for a few weeks. I’ll be landing in a few days, and I want to meet up with you to give you more information.”
Corroded Coffin might have a second chance. Not just Eddie, but his band. When Paige had managed to get Eddie the original audition, she had said that only he would be the one to go to L.A. to play for all the suits in the business. They were only interested in Eddie, not Corroded Coffin. Eddie was real.
“You mean, my whole band?” he clarified. “Not just me?”
“Don’t get too excited.” Paige said firmly. “This isn’t nearly as nice of an opportunity as last time. But it is an opportunity. I want to meet up with you alone first to go over the details and explain what’s going on.”
“Why just me?”
“Because you’re the selling point, Eddie. You always were.”
Real. I saw it that night at the Hideout. I saw it years ago at the stupid talent show. You get up there and whatever you play, it’s raw. It’s life or death. And people can feel it.
Had you felt it? Eddie thought back to the two times you had shown up to see him play, you’d looked up at him with an excitement that he’d only ever seen from the rest of his band. Eddie could count on his hands the number of people who he could say were fans of his. Paige had been the first to look at him like he was someone while he was on stage, but she wasn’t the last.
“When do you land?” Eddie asked.
“Early Saturday, but I’m spending time with my family for the next few days.” she said. “I’ll call you and let you know when we can meet up.”
“Yeah.. yeah alright. Sounds good.”
Did it?
“Alright, I’ll talk to you later Eddie. Good night.”
“Hey, Paige?”
“Yes?”
“...Thanks. For bailing me out back then. I don’t think they would have released me if you hadn’t.”
“Just don’t do that again, ok?” Paige said. “And you can give me a proper apology when we meet up.”
Eddie nodded, and then realized he was on the phone and she couldn’t see him. “Okay. I’ll be there.” he said.
The dial tone wasn’t as aggressive as it had been that day in Hoppers office, and this time Eddie didn’t slam the phone down on the receiver. Instead he opened up the fridge, stared hard at the six pack of beer, closed the fridge without grabbing one, and went back to his room. He kicked off his shoes, and shrugged off his clothes, and fell face first onto his bed.
Eddie tried to sleep. He tossed and turned for hours, replaying the events of the night over and over and over again like a bad movie. Seeing you, watching the movie, almost kissing you, Chris showing up, Paige showing up. How could so much happen in the span of less than three hours?
Paige wanted to talk to him about Corroded Coffin. Eddie was the selling point. There was no way that WR Records was still interested in him, if they were she would have said so and not even brought up the rest of his band.
Shit, what would the rest of the band even say? Only Jeff had been around for the original demo recording that they had all done together. Dougie had left after that year, Ronnie passed her position off to Gareth.
Face stuffed into his stained pillowcase, he started creating a list of unanswered questions. Why was Paige showing up now? Why was she reaching out to him? Why is she giving Corroded Coffin another shot? Why did Chris have to show up tonight? Could you be attracted to Chris now that he had long hair and wasn’t the scrawny asshole he was in high school? Why did Dustin suggest him to hook you up with? Why did you agree? Why did he care so much that you didn’t remember him? Why did Steve also keep showing up? Why didn’t he kiss you? Wait, did Paige still want to kiss him? Okay, that one at least had to be a no.
Eddie gave up on sleep when his uncle came home, and heard the faint snoring coming from the pull out couch in the main room.
With sleep no longer an option for him for the time being, Eddie dug out his notebooks and instead focused on the mountain of song lyrics and notes from over the past few years. With his guitar slung over his shoulder and unplugged, he would be able to work without disturbing Wayne’s sleep.
Each silent chord and tab that Eddie played whispered through his bedroom. He mouthed along to the words on the pages, his voice occasionally slipping through the cracks as he figured out the rhythm of the lyrics. Playing guitar cleared his head, music always brought everything to the surface one way or another, even if he didn’t realize it.
As he focused on a specific riff, his fingers and wrist moved over and over in a constant rhythm. Even when he messed up, he didn’t stop the movements of his fingers as they slid along the strings. It was easy, it was challenging, it was meditative. Eddie could finally focus.
Paige Warner wanted to see him again to discuss Corroded Coffin. Paige was an ex. Sort of. It had been implied that they were going to make it official when he moved to California with her. They were even going to move in together, even if they would have separate rooms. Roommates who sleep together.
Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t just up and admit that she was an ex girlfriend. Business or not, Eddie was going to have dinner with an ex.
If he were still the same shitty 18 year old from two years ago, he wouldn’t have thought it was a big deal. Eddie would have had no problem going to see her, and it wouldn’t have even crossed his mind to tell you. But now, as a less shitty 20 year old, he couldn’t do that. You deserved to know who he was going to see if the two of you were going to go on another date.
He was also going to have to come clean about a lot more than that if things became more serious. That was something that Eddie was dreading. If he told you about Paige, he’d have to tell you about their history together. Telling you that he and Paige had slept together was easy, but what about the rest? How could he explain that she bailed him out of jail after he’d been arrested because a cop was shot on his lawn after two drug mules had burned his house down because Munson and Junior had stolen five pounds of weed from a reefer truck?
Eddie had only told the whole story to one person, and that was Reefer Rick. He hadn’t even had the heart to tell Wayne everything that had happened that Spring out of shame for everything that he’d done. Even Ronnie had been kept in the dark about what happened.
The sun slowly came up, and his guitar and notebooks were bathed in a warm golden light that contrasted the chill of the beginning of November. Eddie hung his guitar back up and gathered his notebooks, setting them aside for a later time. He laid back down on the bed, and closed his eyes. He decided that the next time the two of you talked, he would be honest about who Paige was and what their main history was. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to dump all of his family trauma on you at once when things were only just starting out.
It was kind of funny. Eddie had never set out to be anyone's boyfriend. It had never been a priority with him. Even with Paige, he had definitely found her attractive but aside from seeking her out to ask for her help with getting signed, she had been the one to make any move for anything more to happen. He’d been fine with that at the time, but after spending time with you...
This wouldn’t be easy, but he told himself he wasn’t going to run anymore. When he woke up, he’d call you and tell you exactly what was going on and who he was going to see. Anything about his police record could wait for now.
With that thought in mind, Eddie was able to finally pass out.
It was well into the afternoon when Eddie finally woke up again. He pushed through the grogginess and showered, dressed, and shoved a can of instant pasta into his mouth as he flipped through the limited channels on tv.
About two hours went by before he remembered that you had today off. You’d mentioned that to him during one of your many long phone calls, and he about smacked himself in the head when he realized it. He’d been sitting around and waiting for you to get off work, and you hadn’t even gone in today.
Eddie held the phone in his hand, his fingers hovering over the dial pad hesitantly before forcing himself to push the digits that would connect the two of you again.
You answered on the third ring.
“No Hellfire today?” you asked.
“Not this time, everyone bailed out early for fall break.” Eddie said. “We did our Halloween special yesterday.”
“Tell me about it?”
Eddie felt himself nearly melting into a pile of goo at the words. You always asked about his campaigns and his band, taking an interest in a way that no one ever had before. There was a lot that he had to tell you, but.. He could at least give you this before he gave you the real reason why he called.
You listened as he told you about how the party went up against a pumpkin creature that had been attacking the town. It was a module he had made himself, and that he’d been working on for the past month between the main story of the campaign. You laughed and gasped at all the right moments, sealing the idea that Eddie was going to make a one-shot for you specifically to play. He couldn’t wait to help you make a character and add you to his table.
Assuming you would even want anything to do with him after what he was about to tell you.
“Sounds like a Scooby Doo episode.” you said, as he finished his tale.
“More like Goober and the Ghost Chasers.” Eddie smiled, taking his usual seat in front of the fridge.
The two of you talked, and it was far too easy to get lost in all of the conversations that he had with you. Every time he told himself to suck it up and tell you who he was planning on seeing, you’d ask him something and the two of you would be off on another tangent.
But then Eddie found his opening, and it was time to talk.
“I’ll be at the Hideout again next week.” you said. “I’m really looking forward to hearing that song you keep hinting at. How many original songs are you hiding from me?”
“We have almost seven by now, but no one wants to hear them.” Eddie lied, knowing full well there had been at least one person before who did.
“I want to.”
Two people.
Fuck, he needed to tell you.
“So... speaking of Corroded Coffin,” he said carefully. “We actually almost had a chance to audition for WR Records.”
“Hole shit.” you gasped into the phone. “What happened? I would have thought any record company would be tearing down the door to get you to sign with them. Or, oh, were they too mainstream? Did they want you to sell out? Change everything about you? Did you tell them to shove it, and that you wanted to make real music?”
Eddie couldn’t help but snort into the phone, suppressing a laugh. “Nah, we uh... well we made a demo tape and sent it in, and they wanted us- me. They wanted me to audition.”
“Just you...?”
“Yeah.” Eddie picked at a loose fray in the tear in his jeans. “They didn’t really like Corroded Coffin, but they did like me. But I blew my chance, and never made it to the audition.”
“Shit, Eddie... that sucks.” you said sympathetically. “What happened?”
Eddie was quiet for a moment as he tried to figure out how to explain to you what happened.
“Eddie?” you asked after he didn’t say anything. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to get into it.”
“I fucked up.” He finally admitted. “I did something stupid, and it stopped me from making it to California for the audition. That was two years ago. And last night I just got news that Corroded Coffin might be having another shot at something.”
“Wait really? That’s incredible that they still want to talk to you! And you said it was for the whole band this time? Not just you?”
“I don’t think it’s WR Records this time but a talent scout found me and is wanting to talk about Corroded Coffin?”
“There was a talent scout at the Hideout?”
“No.... my uh.. My ex.”
The silence between the two of you was deafening. For a few seconds, the world went completely still, and silent. Eddie always hated silence.
“Oh.” you said after a while, and Eddie could tell you were trying to process what he had just said. “So your ex wants to talk to you about your band?”
Your voice sounded neutral, almost too casual, and Eddie hated that too. “She- Paige- she was the one to give Corroded Coffin a chance. She paid for the demo herself, sent it to her boss, and got the audition slot for me. But I fucked up, ended up locked up for a few hours, and everything fell apart.”
Eddie wished that he could see your face, would you look at him with sympathy? Disgust? Would you suddenly look at him like everyone else in town?
“That sounds like a lot.” You said.
“Not gonna ask me what I was in for?”
“Do you want to tell me?”
“...Not yet.”
“Are you on some sort of list?”
“No.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“I don’t think I’d be let out if I did.”
“Good point. Alright. Then I’ll trust you that you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Trust. You trusted him. When was the last time he had anyones trust?
“Paige wants to give Corroded Coffin another chance.” Eddie said. “She wants me to meet up with her to give me details. I don’t know what she’s planning on offering but-”
“She bailed you out of jail and is offering you something you always wanted?” You asked, and he could hear something in your voice that sounded almost like defeat. “You should go. It’s clear that the two of you have a history that you two need to work though. And if she’s offering you and Corroded Coffin a chance, you have to take it, right?”
The way you said ‘right’ made him wonder if you were asking something more than just his current situation.
Why was it that every time you two started to find your footing together, things slipped up? How could things constantly be so weird with you when this should have felt easy? What force in the universe out there kept dangling good things in front of Eddie just to take them away as a cruel joke?
“Right.” Eddie said, sounding just about as sure as he felt about this. He didn’t even know what this was.
“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but it sounds like it’s complicated and you two need to talk about it.” you said. “Just let me know what’s going on after, okay?”
Eddie knew what you really meant. Let me know if this is going anywhere or if you’re going to get back with your ex.
That was a thought he didn’t even want to entertain. It already seemed to be impossible that Paige wanted to talk to him again, let alone date again.
“I will.” He would. “I’ll let you know when we’re meeting up and what she says.”
“I have my audition next Saturday.” you added. “And Robin and Steve and I are going to have a movie night later this week to hang out. But, I’ll still be at the Hideout if you all are still playing and not signed by then.”
You were joking with him, and he took that as a sign that maybe he didn’t completely fuck up.
“We’ll be there.” Eddie said. “I guess I’ll see you Tuesday then.”
“See you Tuesday, Eddie.”
With the phone hook back on the receiver, Eddie took a deep breath.
Just when things are starting to get good, huh?
a/n:
Dividers By: @strangergraphics
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Hi bea
How was the festival? Would love to hear your thoughts!
Anon 2: Can’t wait to hear your experience. Hope you enjoyed it.
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Thanks anons
So I hadn't been to Away from Home either of the previous two times so I don't have another afhf to compare to. I have been to a lot of festivals otherwise though, both day and camping and if I’m honest this was probably the worst festival experience I have ever had (and I used to go to T in the Park). With that in mind I’ll summarise my thoughts now I am home and chilled.
Things I enjoyed:
• Blossoms - I saw them support another band a few years ago and I thought they were really great both then and now (we also bumped into them the night before in Pisa).
• The seaside location - Italy was so hot, we went to the beach in the early afternoon and then to the festival, I thought that was a great thing to be able to do
• Louis' show was fabulous and I was really glad to have seen him, got to hear some fitf tracks for the first time (no Chicago though :( )
Things I didn't enjoy:
• Food - The website said there would be vegan food, both my friend and I are vegan and chose not to eat earlier because because we were really quite excited by the prospect of vegan options, this was dumb on our part. I've been vegan for a very long time and would never expect a concert venue to have food options so I want to be clear that my issue here is only because the afhf FAQ's explicitly mentioned vegan food being available. In reality there were no real vegan options. We queued for around 2-2.5 hours inside the venue for food in total. First for about 30 mins to get a piece of bread with a slice of lettuce inside it and then for close to 2 hours to get a portion of fries. I promise I am not exaggerating any of that, we missed all of the cribs, the dj set and most of blossoms and I have a photo of the lettuce bread. We were by no means the exception in terms of how long we waited for food. A big part of the problem was that there were I think two/four (two places selling sandwiches and two selling chips & burgers) food vendors for everyone there, and the chip vendors only had one tiny chip fryer each so they could only cook 3-4 portions at a time and then a 5 minute wait for the next 3-4. The venue wasn't sold out but there must have been 15k people at least inside I expect and folk wanted to eat - remember they had said you couldn’t bring food/drink inside and you couldn’t leave and come back.
• Hygiene - listen gigs/festivals are never the cleanest places but this was really quite bad. We arrived about 6pm, at that point the bins were overflowing, there was no toilet roll and no running water to wash your hands in the loos. There were also no staff/stewards to notify. By 9pm then were used sanitary products stacked in the loos and no bins in sight. It was 35° that day.
• Organisation - The organisation around the venue was really confusing, we got a bus to the town and it was almost impossible to get from the bus stop to the beach because of the queue system & closures which just weren't being communicated. Every security guard told us something different which made it hard to navigate. Coming back to the venue later from the beach (around 530pm) there were almost no staff in sight and all the road closures had changed. When we got inside we didn’t get wristbands which we thought odd at the time but now know they weren't given out (I don’t really care about the wristband but think it’s a symbol of the organisational issues). Overall the event felt really understaffed.
• Tech/sound/screens - there were a lot of tech issues, some might have been heat related I imagine but the sound at times was terrible and the two screens seemed really small for the venue (they also glitched a lot). We chose to stand near the back so the screen thing was quite noticeable.
If I am honest the experience wasn't for me and I probably wouldn't go to afhf again, some of this might have been specific to this venue but I just wouldn't be willing to risk it.
#anon#also by the time Louis came on#I was so miserable and hungry we had debated just leaving#but we had booked an event coach back so stayed#if it hadn’t been for that I think we would have left much earlier#but we didn’t really have a feasible plan to get home otherwise#away from home festival#2023#afhf
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Seeing stars
Welp, I wrote more porn.
Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader
18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.
I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.
This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.
Approx. 2,900 words
“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”
You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.
Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.
“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”
“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”
“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”
Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.
“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”
“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”
“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”
“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”
“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”
“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”
Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.
“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”
"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.
“I hate dancing,” he said.
“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”
“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”
“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.
“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”
“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.
Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.
“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”
“I didn’t let him.”
He laughed.
“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”
You had to think for a moment.
“Are we counting Volo?”
“Sure.”
“Then just Karlach and Withers.”
“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”
Astarion was silent for a few moments.
“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”
Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.
“Stop laughing,” he said.
“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.
“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”
“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.
Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.
“That’s not my back, Astarion.”
One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.
“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”
“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”
“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.
“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”
His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.
“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.
“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”
His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.
“You can try,” you taunted him.
Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.
“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.
It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.
You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.
“Ast… what..”
You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.
“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”
His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.
“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”
It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.
Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.
“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”
“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.
“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.
You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.
“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.
A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.
“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.
“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”
You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.
You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.
“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”
He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.
You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-
“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.
You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.
“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”
“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.
“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.
You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.
“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”
He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.
“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.
Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.
“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”
Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.
“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”
‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.
“Your what?” you gasped.
He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.
Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.
He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.
Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.
“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.
“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.
You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.
You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.
Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.
“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.
You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.
“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.
“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.
You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.
“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.
His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.
“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.
He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.
“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.
He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.
You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.
You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.
Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.
“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.
“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”
“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.
“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.
He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.
“Is that so?” he said softly.
You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?
“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.
Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.
Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.
You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.
“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”
Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.
“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.
“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.
“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”
“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.
“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”
He chuckled at that.
“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.
“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.
“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”
“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.
“Five.”
“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”
“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”
Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.
“Do not finish that thought, darling.”
You grinned from behind his palm.
“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.
“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”
You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.
“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.
“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.
You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.
Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.
~~~~~
Follow up bonus scene
This work is part of a series - here is the master list
Next in series - Confession
AO3
Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89
@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears
#astarion#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 smut#astarion smut#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3 fanfic#astarion fanfic#astarion romance#bg3 fanfiction#astarion fanfiction
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And they were roommates
(Captain John price x F!reader)
Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: none yet
Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4
———————
“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.
“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.
“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.
“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.
“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.
“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.
“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.
“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.
“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.
“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.
“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.
“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.
“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.
“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.
“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.
“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet
‘of course’.
“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.
“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.
“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.
“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.
—————-
“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.
“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.
‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.
“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.
—————————-
“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.
“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.
“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.
“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.
“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.
“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.
“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.
“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.
“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.
————————
“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.
“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.
“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.
“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.
“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.
“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.
“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.
“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.
“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.
“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.
But what if?
——————-
“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.
“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.
“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.
“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.
“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.
“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.
“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.
He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.
“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.
“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.
“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.
“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.
“No worries love.” He nods to you.
“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.
He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.
—————————————-
I’m ready for a new story.
Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3
If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.
#captain price x female reader#john price#barry sloane#captain john price#john price x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#task force 141#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare
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our secret moments.
ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers
in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.
this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D
songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift
warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument
5.6k words
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your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.
vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.
you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.
high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.
he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.
but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.
“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”
both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.
your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.
your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.
lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.
your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.
okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.
“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.
“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“
“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.
“he is!” you protest, waving them off.
you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.
“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.
“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.
the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.
you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.
“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.
you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.
“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”
lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.
it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.
you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.
youruser just posted on instagram
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youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday
user: are they together?
otheruser: mother?
landonorris: lost millions.
user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.
and 444 other comments
-
you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.
apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.
“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.
“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.
“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.
“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.
you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.
lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.
“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.
“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.
“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.
lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.
“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.
“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”
he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.
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youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)
landonorris: whoops?
user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?
user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.
user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?
yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.
otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW
and 567 other comments
-
“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.
“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.
you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.
none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.
you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.
you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.
“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.
“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.
“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.
you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.
“lando, why are you doing this?”
“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.
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youruser: dinner w bestie
user: lando took this. bet.
user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando
landonorris: how was dinner?
youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.
user4: a date if i ever saw one?
user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?
user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr
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the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.
your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.
“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.
“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.
“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.
“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.
“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.
“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.
“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.
you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.
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youruser: new heights n pretty lights
user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.
landonorris: i want that hat back btw
user6: she is the moment
user: mommy? huh who said that?
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lando.jpg: from the road
oscarpiastri: violation.
youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)
user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?
user81: oscar 😭😭
maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?
user11: the wags are fighting omg
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your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.
nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.
lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.
you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.
so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.
that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.
it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.
but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.
no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.
cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.
“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.
“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.
“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“
“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.
“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.
great, now you are crying.
“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“
alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.
“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.
fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.
“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*
“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.
“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.
your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.
you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.
you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.
-
the flight home is quiet.
your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.
you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.
you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.
he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.
“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.
“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.
your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.
“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.
“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.
“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.
“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.
“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.
“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.
“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”
“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.
“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.
“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.
“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”
fuck.
-
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youruser: commotion for the dress?
yourfriendmia: *commotion*
user5: on my knees begging
user1: no lando like? divorce? 😟
mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡
yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy
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-
you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.
from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?
he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.
you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.
the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.
you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.
he says your name, and the world stops for a second.
“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.
you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.
“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.
“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.
you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.
someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.
you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.
dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.
plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.
“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.
“lead the way.”
he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.
“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.
“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.
“come home with me.”
you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.
you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.
-
the door slams softly behind you.
lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.
“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.
your breath hitches in your throat.
“neither can i.” you whisper.
“we can be more.”
“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.
“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.
“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.
“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.
lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.
“can i…?” lando mutters.
you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.
“of course you can.”
he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.
you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.
“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.
the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.
“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.
“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.
“say it.”
“fucking incredible.”
“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.
his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.
his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.
lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.
“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.
“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.
“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.
“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.
lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.
“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.
he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.
he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.
“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.
“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.
your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.
the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.
lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.
one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.
“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.
“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.
lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.
“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.
“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.
“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.
“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”
“oh?” he coos, mockingly.
“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.
“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”
the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.
lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.
“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.
“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.
“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.
he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.
“you sure?”
“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.
it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.
your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.
you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.
lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.
“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”
the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.
you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.
-
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fixed point
“Would you like to know how much time you have left?” Clockwork asked.
Danny had never wished more that he’d died in something with pockets so he could hide his shaking hands. The endless ticking in the lair—hundreds of hands TICK TICK TICK -ing in perfect sync—had never sounded so ominous.
“I—” his voice rattled his throat, a raw thing “—I didn’t think you gave spoilers.”
With an absent spin of their staff, Clockwork shifted from adult to child and said nothing. Dread hung heavy in the air, Clockwork’s unblinking stare piercing through it all. Danny pointedly did not make eye contact. Instead focusing on the oscillating hands of the wall behind them.
He took a breath.
“Will it make it easier, knowing?”
Clockwork blinked once, face betraying nothing.
Dammit.
He wasn’t an idiot. There was really only one outcome of this conversation. Just as there had been the day he’d first pulled on his jumpsuit, walking—tripping—through the threshold. Life snuffed out of him in less than a second.
He brought his shaking hands together and met Clockwork’s even gaze.
And answered.
Thirteen days.
Seven hours.
Thirty-six minutes.
It was somehow both longer and shorter than he’d expected.
It was also a weight off his shoulders, at least in the beginning. It wouldn’t happen any earlier than the date Clockwork had recounted that night. Thirteen days of freedom. Peace. Liberation.
Because if he thought too much about the length of thirteen days, how three-hundred or so hours wasn’t enough time— it’s not fucking FAIR —he would be swallowed by the crushing anxiety that made its permanent home in his stomach.
So there was that.
He didn’t bother telling his friends. They were already all on edge, but if he could act like all was well he could ease their worries. Because ultimately they were just worried about him, and if he was fine they would be too.
He did, however, make contingency plans. Farewell videos on a USB drive taped to the underside of his bed.
He wanted Clockwork to be wrong. Some nights he laid awake, trying his damndest to find a way off this track. This self-fulfilling prophecy. But there was nothing. That moment had already passed with that stupid news broadcast that had glued him to the couch, shaking, as his parents had shouted and jeered at the screen. Dismissive. Furious. Invested.
They hadn’t noticed when he pushed himself off the couch and stumbled, shaking, to the bathroom to purge the contents of his stomach.
It was a miracle he’d only gotten a two-day suspension for slugging Wes in the face in front of the whole cafeteria. Even more so that no one had pieced it together from that.
No one saw him. But they would. When it was too late.
He couldn’t stop it. But as he didn’t acknowledge it in the waking world it wouldn’t exist. So he reserved his existential crises for when there was nothing to distract him from the looming, inevitable deadline.
He wished he could tell Mr. Lancer that whenever he was given detention that afternoon.
On the night of the twelfth day, he didn’t sleep a wink. No amount of coffee could keep his head above his desk that morning, and so, Danny spent his final hour in detention. He considered skipping. Detention was not the place for everything to come to an end.
But wouldn’t leaving—deviating from his normal routine—up the chances of putting events in motion?
Avoidance was his specialty, after all.
Jazz could write a paper on his coping tactics alone if she hadn’t already.
At nineteen minutes Mr. Lancer stopped in front of his desk. It was only him and Valerie today, and she sat somewhere three desks behind and to his left of him. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, loose yellow sleeves draped over her hands. The bags under her eyes rivaled his own, even though he was sure there hadn’t been too many ghosts in the past week or so—but then again, he’d not been the most attentive to things on the ghost front lately. It was probably his fault she was here at all.
“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said. He forced his head to turn, a feat much more difficult than it sounded. His head felt full of lead. “Is everything alright at home?”
Danny forced himself not to cringe.
“Uh.” He ignored the sound of Valerie shifting in her seat behind him. Great. An audience. “Yes.”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been getting much less sleep of late, is all.”
Now this was a load of shit. Danny’s sleep schedule was normally trash. This current existential crisis was no more taxing than his normal night activities.
Lancer continued. “And your parents have—” he paused, eyes flitting somewhere behind him. “—in light of recent revelations, I just worry, Mr. Fenton.”
Hm.
Did he know, then?
Was this it?
Danny stared stupidly for a moment, forgetting to shut his mouth. And then shrugged.
Falling back on ignorance.
If he was honest, he hadn’t quite expected Lancer to be the one to put it together, but it also made sense.
Lancer’s mouth thinned. “I know they can be intense, especially with the scrutiny placed on our school now. No one should feel scared to come to school. Or go home,” he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “This is a safe space.”
For a moment all he could hear was the drum of his heart in his chest. And then behind him, Valerie cleared her throat.
“With all due respect, Mr. Lancer,” she said, “nowhere is safe with that putrid ghost hiding among us.”
Danny didn’t turn around. Lancer’s reaction was subdued, but there was a protective fire in his eyes that confirmed Danny’s suspicions. He wondered how long ago he’d put it together.
“Ms. Gray,” Lancer said, “I see your point, but I’m just trying to ease tensions.”
Danny checked the clock.
Seventeen minutes.
Maybe he should’ve skipped detention after all.
(No escaping the inevitable. No do-overs this time.)
Valerie scoffed. “So what? We let our guard down?” he chanced a glance behind him, and Valerie’s eyes were red-rimmed—from lack of sleep or otherwise he had no idea. “Someone here is a walking weapon and we’re supposed to ignore this? Fenton at least knows he’ll be safe at home, but what about the rest of us? We don’t get to go home to ghost-hunting parents—we have to hold our own.”
Lancer nodded. “I understand. I just think that it’s very frightening for all of us, ghost hunters or not.”
Danny’s voice cracked when he spoke. “Yeah.”
Valerie’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to make light—”
“No. No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s not safe with Phantom as a student here. Whoever he is.”
She sighed. “Danny, I don’t know what it’s like with your parents, but—”
“But what?” he cut her off. “Because they’re ghost hunters they’re automatically the safest people in the room?” He lowered his voice. “You would think that.”
She froze. “What does that mean?”
Hm. Whoops.
“People don’t know what it’s like, I guess.”
Danny turned back around. Lancer’s stare was dripping with sympathy.
Fifteen minutes.
There was a scrape of a chair, a thud of feet, and a warm hand on his shoulder. Valerie released him just as fast. When he met her eyes, they were as wide as saucers.
“D—Danny,” she said with a note of panic. “You’re cold.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
She took a step back. He hadn’t seen her this scared since they’d been stranded on Skulker’s island together. He could see the realization dawning.
“Val,” he said, knowing full well what was going through her head, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s not you,” she said, a desperate plea. “I can’t be this stupid.”
He sighed and Lancer stepped between them.
“Ms. Gray,” he said, “now let’s not jump to conclusions—”
“No!” she shook her head. “No, no, no! It doesn’t make sense. You’re—your parents hunt ghosts. Hunt Phantom.”
Danny crossed his arms.
“So do you.”
Lancer looked between them like Danny had announced that he liked eating golf balls. “What.”
Tears welled in Valerie’s eyes. “I trusted you!”
The minute hand inched forward.
Fourteen.
“You trusted me to what?”
Valerie clenched her fists. “Don’t do that! Don’t play stupid!”
“Ms. Gray—”
“I’m not playing.” Danny turned sideways in his desk, facing her head-on. “Tell me what you think I’ve done, Val.”
“Mr. Fenton—!”
“You replaced him. You replaced Danny. How long have you been pretending to be him? To be alive? How can you live with yourself, going home everyday and seeing his parents and—and—acting like you’re still—” she choked on her tears. “You terrorize this town, Phantom. I won’t let you take anything else from me, or anyone.”
Lancer’s eyes were wide. He’d never seen the man so shocked, in such foreign territory.
Valerie, on the other hand, was resolute. There was as much determination in her face as tears.
“I’m still me,” he said. “I died, but I came back. I never replaced myself, however that works. I am sorry, Val. There’s a lot that—”
“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! ”
“—that I didn’t mean to happen.”
Lancer slammed his hand on Danny’s desk.
“Can we all settle down!”
It all happened in a matter of seconds. The clock in his peripheral kept him tethered to the moment.
Valerie reached behind her and pulled a blaster.
A flash of red—
(The minute hand moves.
Thirteen.)
—and a burst of hot pain through his side.
He crumpled forward, his head meeting the linoleum floor with a SMACK and somewhere above him a distant shout.
Everything from his side to his cranium THROBBED and it wouldn’t fucking stop.
(He’d taken hits from Val before. This shouldn’t hurt so much. Why does this—?)
Iron pooled in his mouth.
Oh right.
Ectoplasm was thicker than blood.
Danny tried to push himself up from the floor but the world spun and his arms gave out below him and he slumped back down to the cold, hard floor.
The floor felt better.
Maybe he would…
Stay here for a while…
***
The television clicked on. A rerun of the six o’clock news.
He didn’t let Jazz turn it off.
“According to a recent report, there is speculation that our local ghost vigilante Phantom might be living among us. Care to tell us more, Lance?”
“Yes, Tiffany.” Lance Thunder’s stupid blonde hair was polished and perfect as usual and he wanted to wipe that stupid half-smile off the bastard’s face. “A ghost ID’ed as Walker —” at this, a crude picture that was mostly just a white blur appeared on the screen “— has publicly announced that our hero is a student at Casper High fooling us, flying under the radar.”
“And as far as we understand, tips from ghosts aren’t verifiable…?”
“Normally, yes, but there is evidence to suggest that—”
“This isn’t good for you,” Jazz hissed. “I know that it’s scary, but—”
“Exposure therapy,” he snapped back. “It’s gonna be the talk of the school anyway.”
She slumped back down onto the couch. “Take care of yourself.”
The door to the lab was thrown open. His parents marched through the kitchen and into the living room, perfectly eclipsing the TV.
“—telling you, Jack. The DNA scans are inconclusive at best. Their so-called ‘experts’ are out of their depths.”
“We’ll show them once and for all. If we can find out which student it’s using as cover—”
“—we’ll expose Phantom for the monster he is!”
His parents disappeared upstairs for the night, but he could still hear snippets of their vows to destroy him.
He shot Jazz a tired look. “Easier said than done.”
***
Someone was touching him.
Everything on his left burned. Far above him were LEDs and beige ceiling tiles. He wasn’t sure when he’d been rolled onto his back. But he was now, and someone was pressing down on the spot that burned burned burned—!
Blood trickled down his throat.
How many minutes had it been?
How many did he have left?
There were voices, somewhere, but everything sounded like it was underwater. Maybe it was. Drowning would be preferable to many of the other deaths he’d prepared for. Still terrible, sure, but vivisection lowered the bar considerably.
“—have you done!”
“He’s—” A girl’s voice wavered, quiet. “He’s Phantom. He’s not supposed to—to—”
Wow. Valerie had the decency to sound ashamed.
At least he could die knowing that his killer at least had a few shreds of regret.
(Is it sad that it’s more than he expected?)
“—little first aid.” The pain came in waves, and all Danny could hear was the rush of his stupid heart in his ears. “—expecting shootings in America, but not from a—”
Just as fast as it came, the world melted away. His last grasp on consciousness slipped away.
(As fast as the click of a button.)
***
Wes had a punchable face.
But hey—that’s what you get for talking to the press. The accusations were written off as pretty baseless, but the damage had been done. He got inquisitive stares now and again. After all, Wes was a joke, but his interview put Danny’s name on the list of suspects and that was enough to fuck his entire life over.
After his two-day suspension, Danny had little opportunity to survey his work. Honestly, more people asked him about how bad he fucked up Wes’s face than whether or not he was Phantom.
(From what he had seen, it was in a perpetual state of purple and that was enough to curb his anger for now.)
So. He had two days off from school.
Danny went to see Clockwork.
Long Now welcomed him with welcome arms, and he broke down into a fit of whines and gripes about how it seemed like everyone was out to get him, that everyone wanted to put his head on a pike. Everyone wanted to ferret out the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Clockwork shared their sympathies.
“No matter what I do, I just—I’m a wreck. I think someone’s figured it out. That they know, but then I mention it to Jazz or Sam or Tucker and I’m just paranoid and I think I’m paranoid now and—” he groaned. “I don’t know what to do. I’m losing my mind.”
“You do know that it’s inevitable that the truth comes to light.”
He froze. “What.”
Clockwork shifted from senior to adult. “Your paranoia isn’t for naught. It’s a matter of time.”
No. This couldn’t be happening.
He’d figure a way out.
There had to be something.
“I thought nothing was inevitable.”
“Not nothing,” Clockwork hummed. “Often, it is nothing. But not this time.”
Their words shook him to the core. He’d suspected it, sure, but confirmation was—
“I know it isn’t fair.”
“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t fair!” Danny snapped. “Your entire life isn’t—isn’t under scrutiny for everyone. If they know that I’m me, I—”
He pressed his hands to his chest.
He would be finished.
One way or another, someone would find a way to put him on their table.
The government.
His parents.
Maybe someone else out for his blood.
(His body.)
“I can’t see what will happen past them learning the truth,” Clockwork said. “But it is a fixed point. Everything past that diverges, a thousand roads. Timelines. Possibilities. I can’t tell you what to expect. The best, the worst. I cannot offer that reassurance.”
“Oh.”
They nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I don’t want them to find out,” he said in a pathetic whine.
For a long moment, Clockwork said nothing. If not for the constant ticking of clocks, he would have thought they were frozen. But then Clockwork’s expression shifted.
And they asked:
“Would you like to know?”
***
…
……
………
Warbled voices were around him again. Different.
But this time more in focus.
“Sir, Ma’am, if you could leave the room—”
“I will NOT. That is my son, and I am not leaving until someone tells me why there is a HOLE in his chest—!”
And somewhere else, a shriek of sobs.
“We’re transporting him to the hospital, you can’t—”
“I did it,” said that same, sobbing voice. “I shot him. I shot him.”
More people were touching him and Danny didn’t like it oh god no no no —
“—get him on the stretcher—”
“—the hell DID you—”
“—Ms. Gray, you—”
“—no! I want to know why—”
“—securing him, just—”
And now time did slow.
The EMTs lifted the stretcher.
And his face lolled to the side, giving him a clear view of the clock.
The minute hand moved one last time.
Just as:
“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t—he’s Phantom, I didn’t think that it would—!” Valerie, cut off, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Danny. If you can hear me, I’m so sorry.”
And then there was silence.
Crushing darkness.
***
If he had any last doubts that his secret was out, they were snuffed out when he woke up in the hospital to the pained faces of his parents. Jazz was in the chair to his left, hair mussed up and asleep. His parents’ eyes were red with tears. In his delirium, he also noticed Sam’s backpack discarded in the corner.
How long had—?
“Two days.”
Clockwork appeared before him in their adult form. They swung their staff, looking rather pleased with themselves. Danny then realized the occupants of the room had been frozen as long as he’d been awake.
“You’re recovering well, all considered.” Clockwork tapped a clipboard on a nearby table. “I will say, I am surprised that we took this route. It is what you might call a ‘spoiler,’ but it’s kinder than most.”
“Is it,” he said, voice hoarse.
Clockwork waited for him to finish coughing up his lungs before speaking again. “They’re handling it as best they can. I won’t say it’s great, but you’re on the way there.”
“I—what happened, again?”
And as he asked, it came rushing back.
Lancer. Valerie.
And paramedics?
Clockwork gave him a knowing smile. “Your teacher called an ambulance. In his panic, he might have let it slip that you were having a reaction because of a ghost weapon, and your parents were looped into the call.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Danny’s eyes found his frozen heart monitor, time stopped between beats. Below, his mother had tied off the top half of her HAZMAT suit and was wearing a black shirt beneath. He did notice that the contents of her weapons belt were emptied.
He turned back to Clockwork. “How did they take it?”
They shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”
“Wait—wait, I'm not ready.”
“How about this? I tell you how much time you have left.” They raised their staff. “Three—”
“Clockwork—”
“Two—”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Time in.”
#Danny Phantom#Danny Fenton#Valerie Gray#Clockwork#Danny Phantom Fanfiction#Fanfiction#Phicc#Phic#Danny Phantom Fic#wrwritings#angst#ectober#ectober week 2023#ectober week#ectober 2023#ectoberweek2023
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Love Potion No. 9
Summary: Azriel returns from a mission and can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.
Author’s note: happy halloween! I thought a fun love potion theme would be so cute and fun!
(Part 2)
Can you come into Azriel’s room?
Rhysand’s request permeates your thoughts. You rise from your spot on the couch, placing a marker in the book you’re halfway through. You pad down the hallway, passing Mor, who gives you a soft smile.
You reach Azriel’s door, knocking softly before letting yourself in. You walk over to Azriel, who’s sitting on his bed with Cassian and Rhys standing facing him.
Rhys made these visits mandatory after Azriel went on three back to back missions and no one realized he hadn’t slept for 6 days until he winnowed in the dining room instead of his room, crashing on the table. Since that happened, Rhys has been making you, their healer, check on everyone post mission.
“Hi Az,” you say, stepping up to him.
“Sweetheart! Hi!” He says, putting his arms around you, enveloping you immediately.
You give Cassian a confused look. The two of you were exceptionally flirty and spent all of your time together, but Azriel was only this touchy when on the rare occasion he allowed himself to get drunk. He especially was never this touchy in front of his brothers.
You wrap your arms around him as he tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder. “Can I check you out, look you over?”
“Baby, you can do much more than that.”
Your cheeks heat immediately, but you don’t address it. You assess him for injuries, which you found none. As you’re assessing, he keeps his hands in a loose circle around your waist, trying to touch as much of you as he can while you’re working.
“Okay, Azriel, I didn’t find any injuries, are you in any pain?”
“I was, actually, in a lot of pain earlier.”
You stop, holding hand as you ask, “what happened?”
He looks down at his feet, thinking about whatever had caused his pain, as he says, “we were apart for several days.”
You roll your eyes, unsure of what has brought this on from him.
“Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?”
You hold up your pointer finger from each hand, holding them in front of his face, as you begin moving your left hand in the left direction. He does as you ask, following your hand, but as you start moving your fingers, you feel his hands slither down to cup your ass.
You hear Cassian try not to laugh.
“Did you ingest anything that you didn’t pack while you were gone?”
He sighs dreamily, “the only thing I want to put my mouth on is you.”
Your jaw drops, but Azriel doesn’t notice. He just starts playing with the ends of your hair, muttering about pretty your hair is when it’s loose.
“Did you have any problems winnowing?” You ask, trying desperately to keep this professional and to get through this check up. You half forgot that Cassian and Rhys are still here, if it weren’t for the occasional giggles from them.
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. He rests his hands on your waist, not looking away from your face. “Just thought of home, and you showed up. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” He states, winking very over dramatically at you.
You see his canteen, and ask, “may I?”
“Everything I have is yours, sweets.”
Cassian’s snort escapes without his permission.
You grab his canteen of water, screwing off the cap and sniffing it.
“Can I see you two out in the hallway?” At the mention of leaving him, Azriel pouts, his hands tightening around your waist. He starts to speak, but you cut him off, “I promise I’ll be right back.”
That response somewhat appeases him, and after Azriel untangles himself from you, not without a ton of huffs from him, the three of you step out into the hallway. You extend Azriel’s canteen with the lid screwed off out to them. “Smell this, what do you smell?”
Cassian takes a whiff, as does Rhysand.
“It smells like the air in the clouds, like,” Rhys takes another sniff, “like the soap Feyre loves. And clean sheets.”
Cassian smells it, “it smells like strawberries and sex.”
You chuckle before starting, “this is a love potion. Someone has drugged our shadowsinger.”
“But he was fine until he saw you - wouldn’t a love potion make him fall in love with who he saw first?” Cassian gasps, “I saw him first! It should be me,” almost offended Azriel wasn’t hanging off of him like he was you.
You laugh, “no, Cass. Love potions can have a certain person in mind, but you have to be an incredibly talented potionmaster to brew such a concoction.” You blush a little before continuing, “most love potions can only exacerbate feelings that are already there. Hence why I had you two smell it - it smells differently to you two. If it was brewed for a certain person, it would smell like them.”
Rhys looks at you, a mischievous grin showing on his lips, “you didn’t tell us what you smell.”
Your blush deepened even further, “it smells like books,” you sigh, looking at your feet, “and like Azriel’s cologne, which is why I couldn’t smell it on him and asked you two to smell it.”
Cassian wolf whistles and you hit his arm, “shut up.”
“Should we be worried? How long will the potion last?” Rhys asks, changing the topic for a moment.
“They usually only last for 12 hours. Supposedly it is all encompassing. I’ve never seen anyone take it before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”
The two brothers look at each other and grin. “Oh no, poor Az. Being looked after by our beautiful healer for twelve uninterrupted hours. However will he cope?” Rhys’s signature smirk stretching his face.
“Rhysand, if you’re insinuating I’d ever take advantage of a patient under the influence of a love potion, you’d be gravely mistaken.”
“Well, I didn’t see you exactly prying his hands off your ass, now did I?”
Cassian mutters under his breath, “I’m sure Azriel can find it in his heart to forgive you if you took advantage.”
You roll your eyes so hard you’re concerned they might actually get stuck. The two bats turn to leave, deciding they’ve teased you enough for now. Cassian turns around, making kissing noises at you as they disappear down the hall.
When Rhys and Cass are out of earshot, Cassian tells his high lord, “you owe me 50 gold marks.”
Rhys scoffs, “you owe me 100 gold marks for the love potion.”
Cassian rolls his eyes, “call it even?”
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Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz
A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ
You can read the first part here!
Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?
You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]
As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward.
If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats.
The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you.
Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind.
With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.
The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend.
"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks.
"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up.
"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively.
"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?"
"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable."
He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself.
Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned.
"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible.
"Um, Spencer?"
"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up.
"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day."
"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise."
"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on.
"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work."
"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier.
"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?"
You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.
He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out.
But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again.
You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.
"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well."
"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.
"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist.
"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this.
"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.
You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up.
"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs.
His fingers find your clit and you whimper.
"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves.
His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target.
"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck.
"Spencer, please, need you…"
"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you.
You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest.
He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice.
"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements.
You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion.
"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck.
"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust.
He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath.
"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess.
You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him.
"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours.
"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly.
"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply.
"What? I… What?"
"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements."
"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully.
"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?"
"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh.
"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint.
"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds smut#maturereiding
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Don’t Blame Me: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Violence, Suggestive
(loosely based on the don’t blame me x LWYMMD mashup from the eras tour ngl)
***
You heard a desperate, strangled shout of your name as he went down. You screamed, anger and fear taking over. No, no, no, you chanted in your head, diving in the direction Azriel had fallen. This couldn’t happen, not to him.
The two of you were sent on a mission to investigate unknown creatures breaching the borders of the Night Court. Rhys wasn’t even able to tell you what they were, just that they were more dangerous than anything you’d dealt with before. You had been given explicit instruction to leave once you found where they were residing and report back the location. From there a larger team would be sent out to eradicate the threat.
You had been tracking them carefully for days, trying to find their home base. You were beginning to think they didn’t have one, that these creatures were nomadic. Until an hour ago. Azriel had practically dragged you as high as you could go in the sky, pointing to a cluster of trees a while away. “There,” he explained, “they reconvene there during the day.” You nodded, preparing to fly back to Velaris and tell Rhys. Azriel caught your arm, shaking his head. “I want to track them a little longer. Make sure I have the pattern right so when we come back we can have the best chance at taking them out.”
You didn’t have a good feeling about staying out, but you agreed anyway. It was important to ensure the information you had was as detailed as possible. That’s how you ended up here, wind rushing past your face as you free fell down to where Azriel landed. Please be okay.
You dropped to the ground and surveyed the area for any sign of life. There was nothing there. If you hadn’t seen Azriel fall yourself you would have assumed nothing was ever down here. You took off through the trees, heading in the direction of what you assumed was their camp. You listened carefully for any sound, whether it be danger or Azriel himself. You were nearing the clearing he had spotted earlier when you heard a slow hum, ducking back behind a tree and tucking your wings tight against you. You poked your head out to watch two of the creatures move farther in the area, Azriel dragged between the two of them. Your heart ached at the blood running down his face and his limp body.
You followed the creatures until you were at the edge of the camp, watching their moves intently. The tied Azriel to a tree trunk, moving and muttering around him. You were taking in how many you saw, estimating that about 30 of these things were living here. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of the insect-like beings, their long stingers the supposed most dangerous part of them. The creatures were roughly the size of an Illyrian soldier, resembling wasps more than any type of fae. Large, disgusting wasps. The hum grew louder as what you supposed was the leader approached Azriel. Your toes curled as you watched the way it yanked his face up, inspecting the unconscious male.
It turned to one of its workers, a horrible clicking sound coming from its mouth. The other responded in the same way, the language grating against your ears. They turned back to Azriel, continuing to talk about him. You wished more than anything you could understand what they were saying. You looked over Azriel again, noticing that his blades were still strapped to his body. Did the creatures not realize what they were? Or were they truly so deadly they didn’t need to worry about disarming their enemies? A chill ran through your spine at the thought.
The leader let out a loud screech and the others filed into neat rows in front of it. You paled at the sight of them all together. What were you going to do? You desperately called for Rhys in your mind, knowing he likely would never hear you. Even if he did, how long would it take him to get here? Azriel might not have that much time left.
The leader gave some sort of command, and you watched in horrified shock as they all opened their mouths. Long, sharp, straw-like tubes came out, heading straight towards Azriel. You didn’t have time to think before you ran out there, quick enough to take them by surprise and get in front of him. The creatures all stopped, taking in this new sight in front of them. Adrenaline was pumping through your body, the only thought you had was to save Azriel.
Don’t blame me.
You pressed your back to his front, reaching behind to grab on to one of the swords strapped to his chest. Your warrior eyes darted around the creatures, desperately searching for any sign of weakness.
Don’t blame me.
The leader moved towards you, that horrible straw coming straight to your face instead. In a split-second decision you ripped the sword from its place on Azriel’s chest, a loud scream tearing from your throat as you swung. Tense silence spread through the woods, followed by a sickening squelch as the creature split in half.
Don’t blame me for what you made me do.
The other creatures all swarmed towards you at once, your screams and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the woods around you. You became feral, tapping into the deepest parts of your Illyrian training. All you knew was to not let them touch Azriel. One of those horrid straws sank into your thigh, a searing pain ripping through your skin. You yelled, the next strike aimed at the creature who attacked. The wound burned like acid had been poured into your bloodstream, and knowing the way these creatures worked it probably had. You couldn’t let that stop you, not when Azriel was in danger.
Look what you made me do.
You fought back with more anger, cutting down creature after creature. You were a force of pure power, midnight blue siphons a thing of deadly beauty. Another straw embedded itself into your arm, the sword clanging to the ground. You wrapped your uninjured hand around the pulsating thing, ripping it out of your skin. You squeezed your hand around it, harder and harder until you felt the satisfying pop of it breaking. The creature it was attached to howled and you shot it square in the chest with your power. You looked around, noting there were only three of these left. Even with your arm and leg out of commission, you felt you could finish these last few off.
Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.
Your uninjured arm slid down, pulling out a dagger you had strapped to your thigh. You surveyed the three creatures around you, deciding to go for the middle one. You roared, jumping forward and latching on to the nasty beast. Your dagger rammed into its chest and you slid down, your weight pulling the blade down its body. It screeched as you were showered with its sticky green blood, collapsing backwards. You turned to the other two, adrenaline dulling the pain of your injuries as you pulled out a second dagger.
Oh, Lord save me, my drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.
The two convened on you at the same time and you swung out both arms, spinning in a death dance with the blades. You landed on one knee in front of Azriel, twin thuds from behind you letting you know you struck true. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up, up into his wide eyes. He murmured your name and you dropped the daggers, the adrenaline rushing out of you. You winced at the sudden pain in your arm and leg, spreading quickly from your intense use of them. You fell forward, body shaking while you tried to push yourself up. You had to untie Azriel, he had to get out of here.
Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.
You forced yourself up with a cry, fingers undoing the knots the creatures had used to keep Azriel trapped. He pulled out of them the second he could, catching you as your weakened body fell against him. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered, cradling you tight to his chest before shooting off into the sky. Far, far away from the carnage you unleashed on those creatures who dared to threaten him.
***
“No, Rhys, i’ve never seen anything quite like it. She took out all of them. Heavily injured on top of that.” You recognized Azriel’s voice, muffled as if he was standing behind a door. You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt as if they were ten thousand pounds each.
“That can’t be. You’re certain no one else was around? I’ve never heard of one single person taking out 30 of them. I’ve rarely heard of someone taking out just one on their own.” Rhysands voice was contemplative, trying to understand how you could have pulled off such a feat.
“I know that. I saw her do it Rhys. She was a true force of raw power.” Azriel sounded…in awe of you. You forced your eyes open, blinking as you adjusted to the soft light pouring in from the windows. You looked around the room, realizing Rhys and Azriel must be standing right outside the cracked door. You tried to sit up, a loud gasp of pain ripping from you at the action.
The sound alerted the two males outside, the door flinging open as they rushed in. “How are you feeling?” Azriel demanded, immediately coming to your side. You tried to sit again, the pain knocking the breath out of you. “Let me help,” he said softly, gently pulling you into a sitting position.
“I think i’m okay. In a lot of pain. What happened?” Your throat was sore, voice gravelly. You assumed you had been out for some time. Rhys observed you carefully, like you were a specimen he was investigating.
“You took on a hoard of those creatures. Alone. Do you remember that?” His question was almost accusatory, as if he didn’t believe the story.
You nodded. “Yes.” The reminder of those horrible bug creatures made you shiver, the sounds of them dying echoing in your ears.
“Can you show me? How you did it?” Rhys’ eyes bore into you, almost a threat. You stared right back, not appreciating the doubt from your friend.
“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide.” A claw stroked your mental shields and you dropped them easily. The memories of the fight began playing, the anger you felt overtaking your senses. If you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have believed the strength you showed to defeat all of them. The reminder of your wounds stung your healing skin, Rhys even wincing as he watched. He could feel your rage, your power.
He could feel the dedication and love you felt towards Azriel.
You threw your shields back up at that, not wishing to let him in any further. He had seen enough. Rhys blinked at you, eyes flitting between you and Azriel. “I see,” he mused. “Well, you certainly did kill them all. That’s quite some feat of power. I think perhaps I should tell Cassian to up your training.” He winked at you and moved to leave the room. “I’ll let the healers know you are awake. I will be back later to check in.” He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaving you with Azriel.
Azriel, who was looking at you like you were the most delicate flower he had ever seen. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His concern struck a chord in you, a hand reaching out for his.
“I will be just fine. How are you? Is your head okay?” Your eyes scanned his hairline, relieved that there seemed to be no permanent damage.
“I’m good. My wounds weren’t half as bad as yours. They knocked me unconscious once I hit the ground.” His eyes lowered and he ran his thumb over your joined hands. “I should’ve been there for you. To help.”
You squeezed his hand in your own. “You were attacked, Az. I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time. If I were a moment later…” your voice trailed off and tears pricked at your eyes. Those straws were so close to stabbing into his body, sucking the life out of him.
“Hey,” he said, looking back up at you. “You saved my life. That’s all that matters.” He gave you a smile, your heart squeezing tight.
“Yea,” you agreed, even though you wished to say more. You wanted to tell him you loved him, be honest about your feelings. You were so close to losing him, to losing any chance to be with him. The fear of rejection stopped you from continuing, the way it always did.
Azriel was looking at you intently, eyes seeming to read your mind. You put on a small smile, pushing your feelings back down. His eyes dipped down to your lips, gaze heavy. Your heart skipped at his expression of hunger. “Az,” you whispered as he leaned closer to you.
“Hm?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your mouth.
“What are you doing?” Your voice was a whisper, so quiet you weren’t sure he could hear you.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” He ducked his head down then, pressing his lips to yours. You went completely still at the touch of him, mind in overdrive. He began to pull away when you came to, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back. You kissed him hard then, the way you wished you had when you thought he was going to die. When you thought you’d never get the chance to.
His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to him. You ignored the protest of pain in your arm and leg, focusing on the feel of Azriel pressed up against you. Of his mouth on yours. The way one of his hands began traveling down your thigh, fingers running along the edge of your nightgown. He bit gently on your lower lip, a silent question to open your mouth. You obliged, moaning at the taste of him. His fingers dug into your thigh at the noise and you let out a cry of pain.
Azriel pulled away from you quickly, apologizing immediately. “Maybe we should wait until you’re healed.” You sighed at the statement, but unfortunately agreed. You wanted to enjoy your first time tasting, feeling, loving Azriel. You pouted at him as he readjusted you, laying you back down on your pillows. He brushed a stray piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your skin. “I love you.”
Your heart was going to thud out of your chest. “I love you too.” Your declaration was a tad breathless, trying to decide if you could actually ignore the pain long enough to get on top of the male. He laughed, sensing your thoughts and gave you a soft kiss. You had waited so long for this moment, to have your love reciprocated.
“You need to rest.” He moved to hover slightly over you, carefully moving his way down your body. His fingers found the edge of your gown again, eyes looking up to yours from between your legs. “There are plenty of other ways I can please you.”
***
I needed to write something that was a request or a series, so this is what happened. I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! <3
#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar#azriel#azriel angst#azriel smut#don’t blame me
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hi angel! I have a little fictober request … can I pls get holding hands for the first time from the prompt list with steve harrington and shy!reader? maybe they’re in a busy place and steve doesn’t want to lose r so he grabs her hand, not realising how ridiculously flustered she gets <3333
ty for requesting angel :D this can be read as a part two to this fic!
summary: steve takes you to a mall in the city in a desperate attempt to spend time with you, fending off freaks, douchebags, and your anxious tendencies alike (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers cw for mentions of anxiety, 3.5k)
fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Steve idles between the X-rated horror and thriller sections for several long minutes until he works up the courage to talk to you. You’re a pretty little thing behind the counter, hand in your palm as you scribble into the journal Keith threatened to confiscate from you earlier that morning.
He’s never been this nervous to talk to you. Things are different now. Post-first date, and Steve’s still toeing that wretched line between friends and something more. The puppy love is so painfully mutual, but it’s equally hard to navigate. He can’t come on too strong — not with someone as soft as you — but he’s still got some King Steve left in him. He’s still learning how to be gentle.
With sweaty hands, he walks up to the counter and tries to be subtle about the whole thing. Stealthy, like a ninja. He leans on his folded-up arms and blurts before he means to, “So you’re, like, totally coming tomorrow, right?”
You lift your chin and blink at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t heard him come over, too busy doodling a bunch of nothingness in your notebook. Your stomach whirls at the sight of him. It takes you a moment too long to answer.
“Coming… where?”
“To the mall,” he reminds, then corrects himself with a shrug. “The one in the city— not the shithole we have here.”
“Oh. Uh, I don’t— I don’t know,” you stammer. Steve invited you earlier that week, and you promised to think about it. You did. And you want so desperately to go, but your brain’s too mean, and it just won’t let you.
The disappointment that flashes on his face is fleeting, but you don’t miss it. The hurt softens his features in an unbearable way. It makes your chest ache.
“C’mon,” Steve presses in a gentle lilt. He leans closer to you, eyes twinkling and lips curling. “It could be fun, you know? I mean, everyone’s gonna be there.”
He’s trying his best to persuade you. He has no idea that that’s exactly what’s keeping you from going. Crowds are always stress-inducing, even those of the familiar kind.
“Everyone as in…?”
“Robin, obviously. Dustin, too,” Steve answers, counting on his fingers as he goes. “Max is coming, but Lucas has a basketball thing, so he can’t. And the rest of the little shits are in California, so that’s definitely a plus.”
It’s a dumb joke, but it makes you laugh anyway — a quiet giggle of a thing that makes him grin.
“Uh… Eddie’s coming, too, I think— but don’t let that dissuade you, alright? I promise I’ll protect you from that freak. You don’t have to worry about him.”
You smile because you know he’s joking. You’ve met Eddie a couple times now. He’s always been really sweet to you. Him and Steve just have a strange complex that forces them to be assholes to each other.
“And also, I’m gonna be there. Obviously. So…” he trails off with a wavering smile. So if you don’t wanna come for them, maybe you can come for me, is what he’s really trying to tell you.
“I don’t know,” you repeat, quieter now as you shrink into yourself. You try and fail to meet Steve’s honeyed gaze. “I just feel like I’ll make everything all weird.”
His bushy brows pinch, almost in offense that you’d think you’re anything less than totally perfect. “Why would you think that?”
“‘Cause… I don’t know,” you murmur in a quiet sigh. You don’t want to lie to him, but telling the truth feels so much harder. “They don’t really know me, you know? And I feel like… like I’ll just ruin everything if I’m there…”
It takes Steve a couple of seconds to answer you. He doesn’t know how you could say something that — like you don’t light up every room you’re in. “Well, that’s… that’s just not true,” he argues with a shrug. “They like you. They love you, actually— they just wanna get to know you. And the only way they’re gonna get to know you is if you come hang out every once in a while.”
Your heart flutters. You want to believe him. It’s hard for you to comprehend that anyone could care so much about your presence, so you just nod and don’t say anything further.
Steve is quick to comfort you, almost like he can read your mind. “But if you think it’s gonna be too much, you could always just stick with me. I’ll fend off the freaks for you, no problem.”
His cinnamon eyes glimmer with honey. He looks at you far too fondly to say no.
—————
There’s six of you crammed into Steve’s 733i. It’s already a tight fit, but it’s more suffocating when it’s full of a million different conversations. Almost all of them are pointed your way. Steve tries to bat everyone off of you, but it’s hard to yell at everyone and drive at the same time.
You’re being a pretty good sport about it despite how anxiously helpless you feel.
You wring your clammy hands in your lap and try to regulate your bated breaths, nodding to whatever Max is telling you. It’s hard to hear her because Eddie’s talking to you, too. You’re too scared he’ll think you’re mean if you stop him.
You watch Robin reach for the radio, complaining about all the yelling as she turns up the volume. The cheesy pop song is all you can hear. The conversations around you become a monotone buzzing. You feel like you could just about explode.
“Jesus, you guys are acting like you’ve never seen another person before,” Steve shouts over it all, the only definite thing you can understand. “Let her breathe before she thinks we’re all a bunch of lunatics, alright?”
He’s met with a bunch of muffled complaints, but the noise quietens nonetheless.
Steve glances at you in the rearview, a quick check to make sure you’re still okay. You catch him doing it and try your best to give him a smile. It looks more like a wince.
“Well, it’s your fault for finally bringing someone cool around,” Max argues with all her practiced teenaged ambiguity. “I have to spend all day surrounded by freaks— at least now there’s someone halfway normal to talk to.”
“I’m normal!” Steve insists, face twisted in offense.
“You’re a jock.”
“Hey. C’mon, Red,” Eddie scolds, so obviously playful. “Let’s not go throwing the j-word around—”
The brunette boy huffs. “Thank you!”
“—Jock would imply that Steve’s still cool,” the wild-haired boy continues. “Which he isn’t.”
Poorly hidden laughter fills the small car. Steve nods and mutters beneath it all, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the clarification, Munson.”
He glances at you again and finds you cracking a halfway sincere smile. He shoots you a light-hearted glare. “Don’t laugh! You’re just encouraging him!”
“Sorry,” you apologize, hiding your giggle behind your fist. “’M sorry.”
Steve smiles at you, silently tells you he doesn’t really mean it. He’d let Musnon make fun of him all day if he thought it meant he’d get to hear you laugh like that again.
—————
You take your first good breath in an hour when you step out of the car.
Steve shuts it off and gravitates towards you on instinct. His honey eyes are wide as they dart across your flustered features. You see his hands reach towards you, to grab your elbows maybe, but he decides against it.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, quicker than you mean to. “I’m good.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I really tried to—”
“I know,” you cut him off with a sweet, still quiet smile. “It’s still okay.”
He sighs heavy, like a deep breath of relief. “Okay. Good,” he hums, almost to himself, nodding with a pink grin you could stare at all day. He would’ve let you, but neither of you get the chance.
Your friends start messing around, and the chaos melts into the buzzing crowd surrounding you, and you realize the two of you aren’t the only people on earth. Bummer.
You gather around the large map at the entrance of the bustling mall. “Where should we go first?” Dustin chirps from the front of the crowd. His eyes are as wide as his smile. “Game Player? Sam Goody? Oh, look— they have a RadioShack! I’ve been looking for a new supercomm. It’s on the other side of the building, though, but we can just work our way around, I guess—”
“Jesus, Dusty-Bun,” Robin interjects with a gritty laugh. She stands on the outside of the group, arms crossed over her chest, effortlessly too cool for it all. “Take a breath, buddy.”
“Don’t call me that!” the boy gripes over his right shoulder.
Steve shrugs. “Go wherever you want to. I don’t care.”
Dustin looks to his left, shooting the older boy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be the babysitter?”
“You’re fourteen!”
“Well, what if I get kidnapped?”
“No one’s kidnapping you, alright? Trust me,” Steve jokes, only smiling when he sees you trying to hide yours. He puts his hands on his waist and cocks his hip to the side. “They’ll send you right back where you came from. You have nothing to worry about.”
Dustin squints. “Rude.”
“We’ll just meet back at the food court in, like, two hours. And if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be fine,” Steve reasons with a nonchalant shrug and a jutted-out lip.
“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Steve. What would I ever do without you?”
He rolls his cinnamon eyes at the boy’s monotone. “Alright, smartass.”
When the rest of the group dissipates, he leans over to nudge your shoulder. It knocks you from your stupor — so deep in your own head you were practically drowning. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Hm?”
“Do you wanna go anywhere?” he asks with a wavering smile. His laugh is equally forced. “You’re kinda staring a hole into the map there…”
“Oh. No. I was just…” you trail off with a shake of your head. You’re not entirely sure what to tell him, how to make him understand your easily overstimulated mind. “I was just distracted. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. No big deal.”
“Where did everyone else go?” you wonder with a furrow to your brow, noticing the lack of familiar chaos around you.
“Eddie and Dustin went to some movie store, and I think Robin and Max are on the hunt for cassettes.”
“Okay...” you nod with a tremble in your voice.
You’re still not totally used to being alone with Steve. Your friends are usually good distractions. They fill your awkward silences with something funnier and talk loud when you get too quiet. When they’re not around it’s just… awkward silences and quiet air.
You get too in your own head, so eager to impress the pretty boy beside you, that you end up putting your foot in your mouth.
Steve doesn’t seem nearly as apprehensive. Instead, he’s beaming at the fact that he’s finally got you alone. He doesn’t have to worry about quieting Dustin when he gets too loud or shoving Eddie away when he forgets what personal space is. It’s quieter with just the two of you — warmer, cozier, easier.
“Wanna go down to the food court?” he wonders, honey eyes sparkling when he looks your way. “I know you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…”
Your eyes narrow, accusing and playful. “How would you know that?”
“Uh, ‘cause I know you,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. “I basically have to force you to eat every morning.”
“That’s not true!”
“It so is!” Steve giggles and it’s heaven to your ears, the exact sound of honey. “That’s why I hate not opening with you. ‘Cause if I’m not around to force you to eat the other half of my Poptart, I’m just, like, worrying if you’re withering away or not.”
Your face burns hot. Your heart swells with a similar warmth that borders on painful. You didn’t think he cared so much about you — or that he ever thought about you outside of work or the occasional hangout.
“Fine,” you concede with your arms crossed over your chest, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel. “Let’s go to the food court.”
Steve grins. He follows you in stride when you start to head that way. “Cool. We can go get one of those disgustingly good burgers or something.”
“For breakfast?” you wonder with a light-hearted laugh.
“Yeah! Like, one of those crazy huge ones, you know? The patties are, like, the size of your fist— make a fist.”
You do. You ball your fingers and hold them up between you. Steve holds onto your wrist for further inspection, fingers long and warm and soft. You swallow.
“Bigger than your fist,” he corrects with a laugh. The sweet sound is drowned out by the swell of yelling teenagers. They talk so loudly and over one another that their conversations become a meaningless drones.
Two in particular shove at one another, laughing loud like it’s fun. One of them almost barrels into you — long blonde hair, tight shirt, tighter jeans, and cologne so potent it stings your nose. He just narrowly misses you, mostly because Steve’s there to yank you out of the way.
The boy’s gentle grip on you tightens. He pulls you close until you’re stumbling into his side. With a strong arm wrapped around you, he shouts at the roughhousing teens — “Watch where you’re going, assholes!”
The scrawny boys walk on ahead of you. They seem apologetic, halfway scared at first. When they realize Steve’s not rushing to beat their asses, they chuckle about the whole thing and keep punching each other.
You’re still frozen in shock — not so much of fear anymore, but of how tightly Steve’s holding onto you. It’s an embrace of the firmer kind, a touch so solid you feel immediately safer inside it. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close before. The teenage girl in your heart starts to spin.
“You okay?” Steve asks when the anger ebbs.
“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing tightly and forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know?”
He nods rapidly, then notices how close he’s holding you. Fearful that he’s made you uncomfortable, he uncurls his arm from around you and takes a small step back. “No, I know! I just wanna— I just wanna make sure, you know? ‘Cause I know you don’t like… all this.”
He waves his hands vaguely out beside him.
You’re immediately cold without him holding you. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate for the lack of him.
“Yeah, but… It’s not the rest of the world’s fault that I’m scared of everything,” you say with another forced laugh, shifting your weight on your feet. If you could melt into your oversized sweater, you would. “It’s mine. So I can deal with it. I have to deal with it.”
Steve nods, slower this time and with a silent sense of understanding. He steps closer to you and shrugs. “I think the least I can do is make it a little easier on you… And I feel like I’ve been doing the exact opposite of that all day.”
“That’s not true,” you argue with the shake of your head.
His chocolate eyes widen. You’re rarely so assertive. “No?”
“No,” you answer, softer this time as you grow sheepish all over again. Your unsure gaze darts from your dirty sneakers to his twinkling eyes until it makes you dizzy. “You’re actually making it more bearable for me, so…”
“Oh. Okay. Good,” he nods with a smile, breathless because his chest is swelling with pride. He knows the world can be a little much for someone as soft as you. It’s good to know that he’s the exception to all that.
He gets lost in the way you look at him for a moment too long. He clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, do you still wanna go get food?” he asks, pointing off beside him. “We can find somewhere quiet to eat so we don’t have to deal with teenage douchebags the entire time.”
Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s practically your love language — spending time alone in a quiet space, with no overt need for conversation or people to fill the void.
You nod, trying and failing to hide the beam on your face. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
—————
The quiet place in question is a photo booth on the halfway vacant, furthest end of the mall. Closed curtains, small spaces, and entwined breaths. It smells like his deep cologne, your perfume, and a freshly cooked meal. It’s too easy to forget that there’s a whole world outside of here.
You sit twisted on the bench, facing Steve with your burger trays in front of you. You pluck salty fries from the plate with a trembling hand, distantly fearful that you’re not supposed to be eating here. You think being so close to Steve is worth the risk.
“Is this the day you were expecting to have?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin. He takes a big bite of his burger right after and gets mustard on the corner of his mouth.
“No,” you answer, giggling as he swipes the stain away with his tongue. “But not because it’s bad.”
“Hm?” he hums to egg you on. He’s got too much of a mouthful for anything else.
“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, equally nonverbal as you chew on a handful of fry crumbs. You swipe your palms together to dispel the grains of salt. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would, actually.”
Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Spending time with me? Alone in a photo booth? That’s a good time to you?”
His tone makes you self-conscious. You feel a little shameful, like a child, because you don’t need much to be entertained. You get all warm with embarrassment, too. Being alone with Steve has always felt like climbing mountains — something short of an adrenaline rush that makes you think you could conquer the world. Maybe you’re too small in comparison to do the same for him.
“Yeah,” you shrug in an inaudible murmur. “I don’t know— I just… I like spending time with you, you know? I don’t really care what we’re doing.”
Steve’s chest swells. From a girl who too often keeps to herself, inherently nervous and incessantly frightened of being a burden, it’s more of a proclamation of love than he ever thought he’d get from you.
“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he confesses with a crooked pink grin, internally praying his cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel.
He holds his half-eaten burger out towards you. You knock yours with his, clinking them together like champagne glasses. He takes another too big bite. You go to do the same but get a whiff of the sleeve of your sweater before you can.
“God, I smell like a teenage boy,” you groan, only half-playful. The nose-burning musk from the kid from before has seemingly stuck itself onto you. Like fruit and sage and wood and vanilla, every scent ever made combined.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you definitely smell like bodyspray,” Steve affirms, scruffy cheeks jutted out from the burger in his mouth.
“I think I’ve been tainted,” you giggle, a quieter sound compared to his boyish laughter. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”
You’re saying it to be nice, but you watch him get all shy about it when you take a bite of your sandwich. He shifts on the bench, like he suddenly can’t get comfortable. When he rubs his palms on his thighs, you can’t tell if it’s because of the salty fries or because they’re clammy.
“Yeah— I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he stammers with an apologetic twinkle in his eye and a gaze that can’t quite meet yours. “Just so you know. I was just trying to—”
“Save me?” you interject.
Steve smiles when he sees how softly you’re looking at him. He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna say ‘pull you from the line of fire,’ but sure.”
“It’s okay,” you repeat for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I didn’t mind. It felt nice, actually— you have really warm hands.”
“That’s ‘cause yours are always ice cold.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not holding them,” you blurt before you mean to.
You freeze mid-bite, eyes wide in distant horror as your blood runs cold. In a desperate attempt to break away from the awkwardness you caused, you muster a trembling smile. “I’m kidding,” you murmur, halfway hidden behind your burger.
You weren’t.
Steve knows this, too, so he smiles.
He’d been thinking about it all day, in truth — how he was gonna get to hold your hand without having to stick his foot in his mouth to ask you. Turns out, a series of unfortunate events and an impromptu date in a photo booth was all it took. And he’s grateful. For all of it.
“No, you weren’t,” he teases, fingers as warm as his smile when he wraps them around yours. He holds gently onto your hand — even though it makes eating a little harder, even though your fingers are cold, even though you tremble.
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble#event: fictober!
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radiology
for @dekalko-mania and @dragonsdomain
Danny looked down at his arm and leg, then up at the ER desk, then over to his mother, sitting next to him, who had witnessed the car ‘clipping’ him. Unknown to her, it had done quite a bit more than clip him. Anyone else, and the driver’d have a vehicular homicide charge on his hands, not just a hit and run.
If she hadn’t been watching– If he’d seen the car–
Well, then he wouldn’t be in this mess, would he? He would’ve dodged, or gone intangible, or just hidden the injuries he did get until they cleared up. Just like he’d hidden all the other injuries he’d gotten that week.
Although, he could admit that these were pretty bad, all things considered. Worse than he usually got, which was incredible, considering he’d gotten it from something as banal as a car accident.
Less banal were the other injuries he was sporting. Like, new broken bones and bruises? That’s what he was supposed to have. That’s what was normal to have after a car accident.
Old broken bones and bruises… He definitely still had the ones from being hit by the car, but they just as definitely had started healing already, faster than a normal human’s ever could. So had the broken bones and bruises he’d gotten earlier in the week after a particularly nasty fight with Aragon, the bites from the ghost bear, the stab wound from an anti-ghost knife (thanks Valerie)... But they were still there. Those would be harder to explain. If he even could explain them.
He needed to figure out how to hide all of this. Like, obviously, he couldn’t hide everything. He had been hit by a car, and, more importantly, he’d been seen getting hit by a car. But the weirder stuff? He could do that.
“Fentons?” called the receptionist. “They’re ready with the x-ray.”
“He’s going to need a wheelchair,” said Maddie.
They got him a wheelchair, despite his protests that he could still walk, and wheeled him over to radiology. He eyed the x-ray machine with trepidation and distaste. It didn’t look like much, not compared to some of the machines he’d been in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have the power to destroy his life. Metaphorically. Probably couldn’t do it literally. Probably.
A woman leaned into the room. “Mrs. Fenton, we have a question about your insurance.”
“Right, okay, I’ll be right back, sweetie.”
“Don’t worry,” said the radiologist, who was adjusting something on her computer. “We’d actually ask you to leave the room while we did this anyway. No reason to irradiate you today.”
“My jumpsuit would–”
“Mrs. Fenton, the insurance.”
“Yes, yes,” said Maddie, she walked out, leaving Danny behind with the radiologist and the nurse that had helped them back here.
The nurse helped the doctor make sure he was arranged properly for the x-ray, each limb in place, while the radiologist took a series of images. Then he got him back into the wheelchair.
“Thanks David, I think we’ll be okay here for now, if you need to get back to the ER. I’ll call Molly when Mr. Fenton’s ready to get his bones set.”
“Alright,” said the nurse, nodding. “You’ll be in good hands, kid, Molly’s great.”
That left Danny alone with the radiologist, who was clicking through Danny’s x-rays on her computer and rapidly paling. With a flash, he went ghost and phased into the radiologist.
He didn’t like overshadowing people very much anymore. It had been fun at first, getting to be someone else. Like playing a part. But being the part, being puppeted… That was a lot less fun, and once Danny realized that, he stopped, except for when it was going to save a life. Or his secret. Which was pretty much his life.
He stared at the computer screen. Overshadowing someone didn’t mean that he knew what they knew. Not really. But he did get echoes. Impressions. Bits of emotion. Sometimes, he even got a snippet of something they knew so well that it was basically muscle memory. So, he knew his x-rays were screwed up, but not in what way, except–
Oh, yeah. That would do it. That was probably it, anyway. He’d forgotten that he’d phased the thermos into his stomach to hide it, earlier. Along with a couple pencils, a spoon, and various other small objects. That was probably also related to why his liver felt so bruised… He hadn’t realized it’d show up in x-ray even though it was intangible, but then, Danny was still visible while intangible, unless he went invisible at the same time, so… Yeah… Huh, the physics behind that had to be wild.
But that wasn’t relevant right now. He was hurt enough that he didn’t think he could hold onto the radiologist for more than a few minutes longer. She wasn’t really fighting him, but she had a strong sense of self.
However… he deleted all his x-rays. That was step one. Now, she had to have, like, spares or something. Something he could substitute in for the images he’d just deleted. He minimized the window and started looking through the radiologist’s files. The spares might not have bones broken in the same places… or even broken bones at all, but that was fine. People got lucky in accidents all the time. He could play it off as the car not hitting him that hard. Or something.
Panic and aching pain may have disrupted his thought processes just a little bit.
Finally, he found something labeled EXAMPLE 20XX. That’d work. That was over ten years ago, for all that it looked like the right file type for the x-ray program, so hopefully the radiologist wouldn’t recognize it.
He loaded the pictures up and fled the radiologist’s body. Just in time, too. As the radiologist was orienting herself, Maddie came back in, a scowl on her face. However, the scowl quickly turned into naked worry when she saw Danny.
“Were you able to take his pictures already?”
“Yes, we have a new fast imager. But these are…” She trailed off, examining the screen intensely.
“Is something wrong?” asked Maddie.
“Well,” said the radiologist, “come look.”
Maddie crossed the distance between Danny and the radiologist. “Oh, thank goodness, I don’t see any breaks.”
“And that would be good, if these were his bones.”
“They’re not?”
“Not unless he’s a thirty-five year old woman,” she said. “Sorry, this is my sample set. It shouldn’t be connected to his– Nothing like this has happened before. I didn’t even have my samples open.”
“Could the undo button help?” asked Maddie.
“I mean, if they were in here at all, maybe,” said the radiologist.
Tucker was going to kill him for not restarting that program. And the computer. And emptying the ‘trash’ bin. And probably a dozen other things that would have prevented from the radiologist and his mother being able to restore everything with a few clicks of an ‘undo’ button.
“Oh, here they are, they’re…” She started losing color again. “Mrs. Fenton, do you have any idea what this… what these things are? Or how he could have… Dear lord, I think these are more break than bone.”
Maddie turned to Danny. Her stance looked casual, but Danny knew she could whip out a gun faster than you could blink.
“Danny,” she said, “can you explain any of this?”
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Happy day of survival, Eddie!
Steve doesn’t leave the hospital.
He says it’s because Max’s mom can’t be reached and he doesn’t want her to wake up alone, which is true, but that’s not the main reason.
Wayne Munson looks haunted.
His nephew has been borderline dead for hours now, and they won’t let anyone back to see him or give any updates other than he’s still alive, not dead, heart beating, blood still forcefully exiting the body through multiple wounds.
It’s not looking good.
It’s beyond touch and go.
It’s go and go. Touch and touch?
Steve doesn’t fucking know. He just knows they’ve never been here before.
And he didn’t know what to do about it.
Max was in surgery getting the bones in her legs fixed. They expected her to stabilize after surgery, but she’d have a long road ahead.
Eddie was in surgery to get internal bleeding under control so they could focus on the external bleeding. They were giving him blood as quickly as he was losing it.
Wayne had given two pints the moment he arrived, despite the doctors recommending he not give more than one since he hadn’t eaten all day.
Steve was a match, but they wouldn’t take from him because he’d suffered significant blood loss himself. No matter how much he argued, they turned him away, said they could find other donors.
He tried every time he saw a new nurse. But they must have all been warned about the ‘kid trying to kill himself via voluntary blood loss.’
So they all waited.
Wayne paced. Robin would just stare into space, then look at Steve, then the clock, then space again. Nancy was trying to manage the kids, making sure that all the parents were contacted and Dustin’s ankle was being looked at. Jonathan and Argyle had disappeared with Hopper and Joyce almost immediately, and Steve couldn’t really find it in himself to care about that.
They waited.
The kids all went to Max’s recovery room the moment they were allowed. Nancy waited outside for the parents to show up. Robin’s parents had shown up and insisted she leave with them and Steve agreed; No use waiting here when she could wait at home.
But Steve and Wayne waited.
They sat across from each other, but didn’t look at each other or talk.
Wayne watched the doors, Steve watched the clock.
Four hours is a long time to be in surgery.
Five hours is a very long time to be in surgery.
Six hours is too long to be in surgery.
At hour seven, Steve finds one of the nicer nurses from earlier to try to get any kind of update that wasn’t just ‘he’s still alive.’
“Excuse me. Is there anything new on Eddie Munson?”
“Oh, you’re still here? Sweetie, you need to get some rest!”
“I’m fine. I just need to know how Eddie’s doing.”
He could feel Wayne’s eyes on him, but he ignored them for now.
“He’s still alive. They’d let you know if he wasn’t.”
“Yes, but how much longer will they be?”
“It’s hard to say.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“It has. He had a lot of very serious injuries.”
“I know, it just.” He sighed and shook his head. “He was asking for me when they brought him back. He was awake. I didn’t think it would take this long.”
He felt a warm weight on his shoulder. He turned to see Wayne standing beside him, sad smile pointed at the nurse.
“C’mon Steve. Let’s take a little walk.”
“What if they’re done while we’re gone?”
Wayne looked at the nurse. “Just going to the cafeteria. Come find us please.”
“Can do, Mr. Munson.”
Wayne gently guided Steve out of the waiting room, down the only hall that wasn’t closed with double doors. They passed some offices, a few supply closets, and made it to the cafeteria. It was busy, a fair mix of doctors, nurses, and visitors bustling through the line to grab some dinner or lunch or midnight snack. Steve had no idea what time it was.
“How about some sandwiches? They got premade ones over there so we don’t have to wait in line.”
“Sure.”
Steve followed Wayne towards the sandwiches, surprised to find they looked decent. He pulled out his wallet and started to shuffle through the few bills he had left from their trip to War Zone when he felt Wayne’s hand on his.
“They aren’t charging right now because of the quake.”
“Oh.”
Steve put his wallet away and picked out a ham, cheese, and mustard sandwich. He wasn’t really hungry, but he knew Wayne wasn’t going to let him leave if he didn’t try.
They sat down at a table in the far corner, no one at the surrounding tables despite the crowd hovering at the entrance.
They both took a bite of their sandwich, Steve resisting the nausea building up to get something in his system.
“So.”
Steve stared at Wayne.
“Didn’t know you knew Eddie.”
“We kinda just met.”
“He’s mentioned you before.”
Steve knew his reputation, especially to people like Eddie. He may not have ever done anything directly to him, but he was around to watch it happen. He did his best not to cower from Wayne.
“I’m sure it wasn’t anything good. Look, Mr. Munson…”
“Uh uh. Let me finish.”
Steve nodded, eyes wide in fear of what Wayne would say.
“I remember him coming home one day his junior year saying there was this kid with this great hair that got all the girls. He sounded pretty jealous, but not of you.” Wayne raised his eyebrows, seeing if Steve understood. He did. “He didn’t say anything else until his second senior year. He came home with a black eye and I asked what the hell happened and he said you saved his ass from much worse. Remember that?”
The memory hit him hard.
Tommy had been stupid, like always. Eddie had been feeding into it, like always. Tommy got carried away and started pushing Eddie around. Eddie tried to walk away, Tommy refused to let him. He shoved him against the wall and threw two punches in a row at his eye before Steve was able to pull Tommy away and convince him to let Eddie go.
“I’d forgotten, but yeah.”
“He brought you up sometimes after that. About how you seemed different. But still didn’t have the courage to see for himself. Guess that changed?”
“In a way. We didn’t have much of a choice with this. I don’t know that he’d wanna be around me outside of…all of this.”
“Let’s ask him when he wakes up. I’ll make a bet with you.” Wayne smirked. Steve had no idea how he was holding it together so well. “I bet $5 he asks for you the moment he wakes up.”
“You don’t think he’ll ask for you? Or Dustin?”
“Nope. It’ll be you.”
“Alright. $5?”
“$5.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it.
Steve managed to have about half of his sandwich before giving up. He still felt nauseous especially when he saw that the clock was broken and he had no real idea for how long they were sitting in there.
Wayne didn’t comment as they made their way back to the waiting area, just followed behind him, slight limp present from sitting in hospital chairs for too long.
They were only sitting down for about ten minutes when a nurse came over to Wayne. She looked like she had bad news.
Steve walked over to listen in.
“He may not wake up. He’s stable, but his status could change quickly. You can see him if you’d like, but be prepared for a lot of machines keeping him alive. He has a lot of stitches.”
“He’s alive?”
Steve hadn’t meant to speak, but couldn’t help the relief flooding out of him.
Wayne nodded at him, tears shining in his eyes.
“He’s alive.”
Steve repeated so he could believe it.
He’d spent the last 12 hours trying to convince himself Eddie couldn’t die, but now he had to convince himself he was alive.
“I’ll wait here, Mr. Munson.”
Despite the fact his brain and body were trying to force him to go see for himself that Eddie was alive, he knew Wayne needed to go first.
“Nonsense. You’re coming with me. The boy’s got two hands to hold, don’t he?”
Steve blushed, but nodded.
They followed the nurse through the doors Steve had been so convinced were locked, but had really just been closed. She walked them down a hall, then turned right down another hall, and left down a hall that was much darker, but had more doctors bustling around.
She stopped outside of room 327, turning to both of them.
“Visiting hours are technically over, but they’re giving you permission to stay. It helps patients to have company even when in a coma.”
Steve and Wayne nodded and thanked her before walking through the doorway.
She’d been right to warn them; machinery was hooked up to almost all available skin. He had one IV on his right hand that connected to a liquid bag to keep him hydrated, and one on his left hand for another blood transfusion. More tubes were coming out of various places, and he had an oxygen mask on his face instead of just the usual cannulas Steve had seen before.
“Oh, Eds.”
Wayne pulled the chair to by the door over to his bed and sat down, gently touching his fingers and letting out the tears he’d probably been holding in for hours.
“You better come back to us, boy.”
Steve stood at the end of the bed, feeling like he was intruding on Wayne’s moment, but knowing saying anything or leaving would just interrupt it more.
“Grab the other chair and sit on that side, Steve.”
Who was Steve to argue?
He sat and placed his fingers on top of Eddie’s, frowning when the heart monitor started beating more rapidly.
Wayne looked over at their hands and then the heart monitor, a knowing smirk crossing his face.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“I thought he got over it.”
“Got over what?!”
Steve was trying not to get impatient, but Wayne wasn’t making any sense and Steve’s head hurt and he was exhausted and just wanted to rest.
“His crush on you.”
“His what?”
“St…eve?”
Steve’s head turned to Eddie so quickly, he practically gave himself whiplash.
“Eddie?!”
He didn’t want to remove the oxygen mask, but he wanted so badly to see the full smile he knew Eddie was giving him.
“We win?”
His voice was barely audible, but Steve could make out the gist of it.
“Yeah, babe. We won.”
“Wayne?”
“Yeah, bud?”
“Did…he…just say…babe?”
Wayne snorted. “He did.”
“‘M high.”
Steve squeezed his fingers gently, and then leaned over to kiss his forehead.
“Go back to sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
“‘Kay. Luh you bo’.”
“Love ya, kid.”
Steve remained quiet, but looked up at Wayne after he was sure Eddie was actually back asleep.
“You know, I got to know him a lot better over the last few days. They say you don’t really know someone until you’ve seen them at their worst.” Steve shrugged. “I think we saw each others worst at different times and still managed to be here. That’s gotta mean something, right?”
Wayne reached a hand over and covered his and Eddie’s fingers.
“Yeah, kid. I think it means somethin’ pretty important.”
When Eddie woke up the next day, he was lucid enough to remove his own oxygen mask and start whisper yelling about his throat being dry.
Wayne shook his head and said he needed some fresh air, but he knew that was just to give Steve some privacy.
“I got you some water. Doctor says small sips and you can only have a few at a time.”
“Doc can…suck my…dick.”
“I’d rather he didn’t.”
“Why? Jealous?”
Steve had no control here. He wasn’t used to it.
“Yeah, actually.”
Eddie’s eyes searched his face for any sign of teasing, but found none. Of course he wouldn’t. Steve had spent the last 24 hours figuring out he was kind of halfway in love with Eddie already.
Robin was gonna lose her shit.
“When…can…I leave?”
“Not any time soon. You’ve got a lot of healing to do.”
“But…”
“Nope. Put your oxygen back on before they come yell at you.”
He groaned, but did as Steve asked.
He fell asleep minutes later, Steve’s fingers tracing patterns on his palm.
He wasn’t sure of many things; Eddie’s name still had to be officially cleared, the kids still had to visit, and Eddie had to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. But he knew that he was where he was supposed to be. With Eddie.
Part 2
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#tumblr drabbles#wayne munson#eddie munson lives#but barely#he’s dramatic and has to stress everyone out#this is super cheesy#but it’s Eddie Munson is actually alive and absolutely did not die day
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Admit that you love me
Connected with my other headcanon fics, but works as a standalone as well.
Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, Astarion is bad at feelings, Gale is bad at everything
Bit of angst, bit of comfort, bit of fluff, love, banter, humour and all the other good things. Non-explicit. Early Act 2.
Approximately 2,000 words.
You traversed the shadow-cursed lands. Earlier this week, Elminster had showed up, eaten all your cheese, essentially told Gale to kill himself and promptly went back to wherever he had come from. And you thought 200 year-old vampires were erratic... You hoped you would never come across a vampire wizard.
It was an average evening in camp. You and your companions were passing time by the fire before calling it a day.
You were sitting on the ground before the campfire, as Astarion sat on a fallen log behind you, trying to massage a crick out of your neck and shoulders. You weren’t even being obnoxious about it, your neck had genuinely been killing you and he was trying to alleviate the pain and discomfort.
You’d closed your eyes and leaned forward a bit, trying to give him better access, when a remark from Gale caught your ear, and the hands stilled.
“It’s truly heartwarming to see how well Astarion takes care of his livestock.”
In the sudden silence that ensued, before you had even registered your own emotions for the insult, your immediate instinct was to seize the hand that was still on your shoulder, and say:
“If you kill him, he’ll take us all with him.”
It turned out to be the right call, as Astarion re-sheathed a dagger you hadn’t even noticed he had drawn (or had on him), and gave your hand a small squeeze.
“I... I’m sorry, that was a poor joke.” Gale looked at the ground shaking his head. “If you can call it that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He started to get up. “I better-”
“Disrespect my lover or me again, and I will personally burn everything that you cherish, and rip out the throat of every person you hold dear.” Astarion’s voice was an icicle. “I won’t kill you… But I will fulfill my need to hear you scream.”
Astarion gave your hand another squeeze and got up. He met your eyes as you turned back to look at him, and gave you a barely perceptible shake of the head before stalking off.
Gale, who had stood silently through Astarion’s cold outburst, wordlessly turned and left in the opposite direction.
You still sat on the ground, elbows on your knees, eyes shut, now rubbing your temples. Great. Perfectly normal (in accordance with your definition of ‘normal’, anyway) evening ruined. No Astarion, Gale at a new lowest low, awkward silence, you still with a crick in your neck, and now an unfolding headache. All while feeling like you’ve been spat on.
“Is that what you all think?” you asked quietly, still rubbing your temples. “That I’m a stupid lamb offering myself to a wolf for slaughter?”
To your surprise, it was Lae’zel who answered.
“It is true that the vampire is a predator, and there is hunger and lust in his eyes when he looks at you. But there is also love and yearning. You both carry it. My people are proficient in recognising it, for we are taught from a young age to quash such notions at their conception. Love and attachment make you weak. But you two, you have turned it into a source of resilience and strength. The wizard is as delusional as he is out of line.”
You were completely taken aback by what you just heard.
Firstly, by the fact it came from Lae’zel. But also... You hadn’t actually exchanged words of love with each other. Oh, there were the ‘my love’s, but that was more of a silly casual pet name that had started long ago. You both regularly addressed Karlach as ‘love’ as well. It didn’t mean much.
But to have a githyanki set it out for you so candidly...
“...I couldn’t have said it better myself, Lae’zel,” spoke Shadowheart.
“Aw, none of us doubt you or fangs,” added Karlach. “Hells, sometimes I worry my heart will have a meltdown not from exertion, but from seeing you two.”
You hoped no one could tell your face had coloured scarlet by the light of the fire.
“Gale just hasn’t been himself lately. I’m sorry you and Astarion took the brunt of it. I’m sure he feels awful about this.” Wyll apologised as though he had anything to do with it. “I better go speak to him, make sure he knows we understand.”
You excused yourself and went to your tent soon after as well.
Astarion didn’t return that night. On checking his tent, you noted he did take his weapons with him, though. That’s all you really needed to know. He could take care of himself. After all, he was one of the horrors other people were scared to encounter in the shadows. Still, when you finally fell asleep, it was only due to sheer exhaustion.
~
It was morning when he finally showed up at the entrance to your tent. Probably. You could barely tell night from day in this blasted place. You were sitting cross-legged on your bedroll, getting ready for the day ahead. You didn’t get up to greet him as you continued to fasten the belts and buckles of your equipment.
“I was worried.”
“I know,” he said simply. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed and added: “And I was angry. Furious, actually. Murderous. I didn’t want you to see it.”
You bit back a swear.
“I can-”
“Before you say you can handle my anger, that’s not the point. I don’t want you, of all people, to be exposed to it to begin with.” You frowned and he continued:
“When everyone keeps telling you you’re a monster, eventually you no longer want to prove them wrong – you want to show them just how much of a monster you can be. And you’re the only person who doesn’t think that about me. Why on earth would I do anything that might make you look at me the same as they do..?”
It broke your heart a little to realise that that’s what he thought.
“They don’t think you’re a monster, Star,” you said imploringly. “Gale said something stupid which he immediately regretted, yes, but the rest of them were on our side.” You made sure he was taking in what you were saying. “On your side.”
“...They were?” Astarion’s eyes softened.
“Yes. Lae’zel gave a whole speech, just about.”
“Ugh,” Astarion curled his lip. “And I thought you were serious for a moment there.”
“I am serious! She was quite poetic about it, actually.”
Astarion suddenly took a step back out of your tent, looking up at the sky in alarm.
“What is it?!” you reached for your bow.
“Oh just checking for flying pigs...” he stepped back into the tent. “...So what did she say? I’m intrigued.” He still looked skeptical, but much less guarded than before.
You paused your preparations, set down your weapons and met his gaze.
“She said she sees the love in your eyes.”
You weren’t about to tell him that she actually said she saw love in your eyes as well.
“Oh...” Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback. “That is quite poetic for a githyanki.”
You continued to study him without saying a word.
“...Oh no. No no no.” He waved a finger at you. “I see EXACTLY what you’re doing, and I am NOT falling for it.”
“What am I doing? I’m not doing anything.”
“Exactly! You’re not saying anything, forcing me to fill the silence until I start stammering like a fool and admit that I love you!” He paused, turned away and huffed, before turning back to look at you, hand on his hip. “And that is NOT on the agenda!”
“You’re not going to admit it?”
Astarion looked away again, wrung his hands, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and looked back at you, cocking his head to one side before finally saying:
“...Not today..?”
You burst into a laugh. How long had your heart been pounding?
“Gaaaaaale! Old buddy, old pal!” you heard from Astarion.
You lifted your head to see Gale approaching.
Fucking Gale, you thought.
You got up to face Gale at the entrance to your tent.
“Morning! I would say ‘good morning’, only that would be a lie for all of us, in light of-”
“Oh for the love of all that is unholy!” Astarion cut him off. “Spare me your words and drawn-out explanations, and I will spare you my daggers. We don’t need that. We can sort this out like two mature, adult men.”
The next thing you knew, Gale was on the ground, looking in disbelief at the blood dripping onto his hand from a possibly broken nose.
“There. Now, for all intents and purposes, this matter can be resolved, if you wish. As previously advised, in the event of any further disparagement of me, Tav, or the nature of our relationship, I WILL be committing arson and turning everyone you love and care for inside out, Tav being exempt, of course. Now that this has been explained to you, if you accept, the damage you just took to your face can serve as compensation, to the full and final satisfaction and discharge of the idiotic shit you said yesterday. Are we in agreement?”
Astarion held out a hand
You stood back observing Astarion, your arms crossed. Theatrics to cattiness to violence to legalese within the span of a minute. How flustered and giddy was this man?
Gale was still on the ground, also looking at Astarion incredulously.
“I sometimes forget that you used to be something far worse than a vampire.”
Gale accepted the offered hand and got up.
“And you, Tav? Would you like to break the spare lute over my head, perchance?”
Astarion perked up at that, but you were quick to protest:
“No, no, let bygones be bygones and all that...”
“Then it is settled,” Astarion interjected. “Well then, off you go, friend.”
“Actually,” you cut in. “I think Shadowheart needs to rest a while. Gale could come with us today instead, seeing as you’ve sorted everything out. Gale, are you up for it?” you asked as Astarion stared at you in disbelief.
After the borderline sleepless night you’d had because of these two idiots, the least they could do was entertain you by suffering each other’s company.
“...Sure, let me just ah... do something about the blood. I’ll only be a minute.”
And just like that, you and Astarion were back on your usual bullshit, causing a loud ruckus as you headed out of camp, him on your heels.
“I object! It’s ME or HIM! And if it’s him, you can give me my ring back!”
Wyll snapped his head in surprise to look at you two, as Karlach gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
Astarion paused as if to say something to them, then waved a dismissive hand and continued walking after you.
“...Because I am NOT dying in camp like a sitting duck just because HE couldn’t keep you safe!”
“It’s my ring now, and you’re both coming! And so is Lae’zel. Lae, are you ready?”
“Always,” came an unperturbed answer from the githyanki, as she got up to follow you.
“There. She can lecture you on poetry, between the fighting.”
Astarion had finally caught up to you.
“You cheeky pup,” he said only loud enough for you to hear, his red eyes narrowed and a wry grin on his face. “We’ll need to have a long talk about your behaviour.”
“Is that on the agenda? For today?”
Astarion swore under his breath, smiled to himself and fell back again.
Yep, definitely flustered, you thought, fighting a stupid grin that was threatening to take over your face.
Oh you were going to enjoy this day.
~~~~~
Author’s note:
Sorry bloodweave gang, my headcanon is Gale and Astarion are constantly beefing.
I wanted to work in the “disrespect me again” line from Early Access – although I ended up altering it. A lot.
~~~~~
Next in series - Confession
OR, chronologically appropriate smut - Seeing stars
Series master list
AO3
#astarion#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#bg3 fanfic#gale dekarios#astarion fanfic#fkn gale
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sick little games * op81
neither you nor oscar can believe the predicament you’ve found yourselves in.
pairings: oscar piastri x female!reader
word count: 1.4k
(f1 masterlist) | (series masterlist)
(prev)
you’d left the restaurant immediately after the newscaster finished talking. you’d lost your appetite after finding out that the man you’d hit on was possibly a ghost. you simply ordered a sandwich to go — frankly because you’re honestly still quite hungry — paid and then left to head back to your apartment.
oscar trailed behind you all the way back, not another word uttered between you.
on your way back, it started to make sense for you. when you first bumped into him, the confused stares weren’t from you stopping in the middle of the crowd, but from the fact that you were talking to yourself. and even then, the waitress’s hostility and confusion should have been the nail in the coffin.
you hadn’t even questioned the way that she only brought you 1 glass of water instead of 2.
you open the door to your apartment and turn around after stepping in, oscar still standing in the hallway with his hands clasped in front of him. you raise your eyebrows. “what are you doing? come in.”
“really?” oscar asks in shock. “i mean, you don’t have to invite me inside… like, i’m a stranger.”
“what?” you scowl in disbelief. “you’re a literal ghost — what are you going to do, murder me?”
he blinks at you. “too soon.”
“just come in so nobody else thinks i’m going insane talking to myself,” you scoff, beckoning him inside. “stop the whining.”
you close the door when he steps into your apartment. you almost want to giggle at yourself for holding the door open for a ghost and waiting for him to walk in. but you swallow the giggle you feel bubbling because you can only imagine how difficult it is especially for oscar.
oscar lingers next to you as you take off your shoes, looking down at his feet. “do you think i can take my shoes off?”
“i don’t know,” you glance over your shoulder and watch him seriously ponder at the thought, “you’re the ghost — try it.”
he blinks, “you don’t think i’d dirty your apartment floor if i keep them on, right?”
you tilt your head and sigh. you stand up straighter and turn to face him. “but didn’t we bump into each other? means if i reach out right now,” you hold your arm out and hover it over oscar’s shoulder, “i would hit you.”
“i guess?” oscar scrunches his face and looks down at your hand. “hit me.”
you hesitate for a moment. can he even feel pain? so you reach forward with all intentions of hitting him and even wound your arm back slightly to do some damage.
a soft shriek emits from you when you stumble forward and your fingertips jab into the wall supposedly behind him. “what?” you squeak, quickly stabilising yourself in disbelief. “i swear i bumped into you when we met!”
“you did!” oscar says with a sigh, throwing his head back. “i don’t get it!” he darts his hand out to grab your wrist, eyes widening when his hand passes through you. he gasps, “why does it do that? i swear i bumped into you earlier!”
“i don’t know! you’re the ghost!” you shriek, now walking further into your apartment. “you’re asking me like i’ve got a degree in parapsychology!”
oscar tilts his head as follows you in. “para-what?”
“study of paranormal activity!” you sigh. “my sister used to be obsessed with this type of stuff before our parents got separated and moved to different ends of the country. she’s a very investigative person.”
“i’m sorry, i didn’t… i’m sorry about your parents,” oscar shrugs, frowning slightly. he watches you take a seat on your couch and throw your sandwich next to you. “and your sister. i’ve got 3 of my own back in australia and i grew up in the uk.”
you suck in a deep breath and sink into the couch. you realise you’re not entirely in the position to be freaking out as much as you are. you have to give it to oscar for staying calm in the past hour. you know that if you were in his position, you would not have taken it as well. in fact, you think you might even go crazy if you woke up one day with little to no recollection of events as a ghost.
and to find out from some random news clip to a restaurant with someone you've never met?
“i’m sorry. that must’ve been really hard on you,” you sigh, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “how do you feel? about everything?” you turn your head and realise that he is still standing and hovering by your couch. “why don’t you sit down?”
“it’s not my house — i don’t want to feel too at home as a guest,” oscar shrugs simply. he points at the empty spot next to you for permission. you nod and move the paper bag to the ground by your feet and he laughs as he takes a seat. “i doubt i’d deform your sandwich if i sat on it, by the way.”
“it’s on and off again. this sandwich is my overdue lunch and i’m not taking any chances,” you snort with a small grin. “this must be a little overwhelming for you.”
he shrugs and leans back. “it is. i don’t even remember waking up today, i’d just regained consciousness walking down the street before i bumped into you. it was like a video game — spawned out of nowhere.”
“this game is not going to be fun, by the looks of it,” you mutter, earning yourself a soft chuckle from oscar. “you can stay here until…”
“i’m not a ghost anymore?” he prompts.
“technically not a ghost 'cause you’re not…” you’re trying to choose your words carefully. you don’t want to trigger anything if you don’t know him that well just yet. “you know.”
“dead,” he points out firmly with a finger pointed at you. “let’s be realistic — i could be a ghost. i don’t even know how critical my condition is.”
you press your lips together and drop your gaze to the ground. you mirror his position on the couch and lean back with a sigh. “we should really stop talking about it, don’t you think?” you whisper hopefully.
he shakes his head. “i need to know what happened to me and who did this to me,” he sighs, shaking his head slightly. “maybe they got it wrong. maybe it was a driver error that caused my crash.”
“oscar…”
insistent, he continues to shake his head. “they wouldn’t do this to me,” he says softly with a frown, “i refuse to believe it. there’s no reason to!” oscar turns his head and meets your eyes. he sighs. “what do you think?”
you shrug. “i don’t know any of these people you’re talking about,” you say softly with a smile. “but i’ll help you, i promise.”
gen taglist: @33-81 @happy-nico @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @namgification @c-losur3
taglist: @lipringlrh @mess-is-my-aesthetic @vicurious28 @imsiriuslyreal @fionaschicken @pastryboyyy @spookystitchery @topgunmav1df1 @nixisracing @honethatty12 @bloodyymaryyy
#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke 6futs
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welcome home kiss (k.th)
wc. 1348
genre. smut
tags. fiancé!taehyun x fem!reader, jealousy, car sex, oral (m receiving)
a/n. repost; happy new years eve everyone!! i hope we spend more time together next year <333 i've been in such a taehyun brainrot since dilt visuals dropped so it's only right that my last post of the year be for him and with 30 minutes to spare
more of my work
taehyun glances back at you. you look so beautiful in your sleek black dress. but the scowl that marked your otherwise pretty face, as you sat legs crossed and arms folded while you watched him, not so much.
usually, you loved going to all his work events with him. you would stand attached to his arm as he paraded you around to his colleagues, like his trophy wife. however, today, it seemed like he was punishing you.
to him, in contrast, it seemed like you were the one punishing him. you left home earlier than usual because you just had to go to work. he woke up at his normal time to an empty bed. you didn’t even text or call him all day because you were stressing over a really big and really important project. so much so that you showed up at your shared apartment an hour later than you said you would be home. and you, again, did this without as much as a text message or a phone call. and then you committed what he would describe as the greatest crime against humanity – you didn’t give him a “i’m home” kiss. you just rushed to the bathroom to get ready.
up until now, you still hadn’t given him the kiss. so yes, maybe he was punishing you now as he left you alone at the table to say hello to someone. but that was ten minutes ago and he hadn’t returned to get you as he stood talking to one of his female colleagues, laughing at her unfunny jokes, letting her touch his arm.
you’re sitting at the round dinner table with his other colleagues, drowning out their conversations about corporate things that you couldn’t be bothered to care about. you tightly grip the stem of your champagne flute, promising yourself that the next time she even as much as twirled her hair, you would go over there.
it isn’t long before your moment comes. his co-worker throws her head back, laughing, resting her manicured hand on your fiancé’s chest. you excuse yourself from the table, almost a hundred percent sure that they didn’t even notice your exit. you move gracefully but purposefully across the banquet hall to them.
“what’s so funny?” you ask taehyun with a smile, linking your arm with his.
“nothing,” he quietly responds. his coworker’s hand immediately drops.” clearing his throat, he introduces you. “i don’t think you guys have met.”
you reach out to shake her hand, your grip strong and assertive. “hi, i’m his fiancée, y/n.” you give her your fakest smile.
“it’s really nice to meet you,” she smiles back at you. the tension lingering between the three of you is palpable as you not so subtly rest your left hand on your fiance’s chest, showing off your diamond-studded engagement ring.
she is desperate to diffuse the tension, or at least get a way out. “i just remembered i had to speak with someone.” she says, before turning to you. “it was nice to meet you, y/n. i’ll see you on monday, tae.”
and with that, she leaves, leaving the lingering tension hanging like a heavy cloud. “i’m tired, i wanna go home,” you tell taehyun before going back to the table to get your purse.
you both say your goodbyes to his colleagues. the unresolved tension between the two of you is still lingering and noticeable to his coworkers, even as you maintain your grip on his arm.
the car ride home unfolds like a slow moving storm, filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the car engine. the silence that settled between the two of you was suffocating. you just needed to break it.
you glance over at him. “are you going to tell me what that was about?”
taehyun’s eyes remain fixed on the road, the distant glow of the streetlights playing across his features. his hands tightly grip the steering wheel as he takes his time to respond to you. “you embarrassed me.” he says, curtly.
“i embarrassed you?” your voice is a mix of disbelief and simmering frustration.
“yeah, you did.” he keeps his eyes on the road, and that just makes you a little bit angrier.
“you left me at that table by myself to go flirt with your stupid coworker.”
“she’s not stupid.” the coolness of his tone boils your blood. “she’s actually really nice. she works in the marketing department.”
a chill ran down your spine, and you shift in your seat, the sleek black dress clinging to you. “i don’t care about her.”
“and i wasn’t flirting with her.”
“can you please pull over?” he complies, steering the car into an empty parking lot.
as the car comes to a stop, you turn to face him again. “i wasn’t flirting with her,” he repeats, his eyes now finding yours.
“so if that wasn’t flirting then what was it?”
“we were having a conversation.”
“one where she just needed to have her hands all over you?”
“you didn’t kiss me.” he states matter of factly.
“what?”
“when you got home from work.”
you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
“you didn’t kiss me when you got home from work.” he repeats.
“oh my god,” realization dawns on you, and your lips form a pout.
“don’t do that,” he warns, rolling his eyes.
“don’t do what?” you tease, adopting a playful tone, “my boy missed me so much. want me to make it up to you?”
he groans, resting his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. the head of his seat, closing his eyes. “if you’re going to keep teasing me, then i don’t want your kiss.”
“i don’t mean a kiss,”
his eyes shoot open, curiosity replacing the embarrassment. “what do you mean?”
“if i embarrassed you, i should make it up to you, right?” you suggest, leaning in closer, your hand resting on his slacks.
taehyun gazes at you with a wide-eyed intensity while you fiddle with the zipper of his pants. you slip your hand inside his pants and palm his clothed dick.
“i thought you said you weren’t going to tease me,” he says in between his pretty whines.
you pull out his now hard cock and wrap your hand around his warm length. he looks at you with pleading eyes. unbuckling your seat belt, you lean down to place a light kiss on his flushed tip.
you look up at him, your eyes twinkling in amusement. “i gave you your kiss now, are you happy?”
taehyun carefully cups your face, pulling you upwards to kiss your lips finally. you pull away and draw your attention back to his dick, that lays gently in your hand. still maintaining eye contact, you trace your tongue along the tip, causing him to fully throw his head backwards in pleasure. slowly you take him in your mouth, until his dick hits the back of your throat and you’re gagging around him.
taehyun’s hands aptly find the back of your head, his fingers intertwining with your hair as you bob your head up and down, swallowing around his cock. his pretty moans and whine fill the car and you can’t help but feel amazing at how he just falls apart around you.
almost in an instant, everything feels a little too much for him — the warm, wet feeling around his length, the vibrations from your moans, the way your fingers work to softly massage his balls. his climax quickly creeps up on him and he can’t stop himself from cumming in your mouth.
“thank you,” he breathes out as you swallow his cum in desperate triumph.
he tilts your chin up, gazing into your watery eyes. “i’m sorry,” he confesses before kissing you again, tasting himself in your mouth.
“i’m sorry too.”
the two of you quickly pull yourselves together, and prepare to make your way back home. taehyun puts the car into drive but before he releases his foot from the brake, he looks at you again.
“can i have another kiss?”
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#fay's works#taehyun smut#kang taehyun#kang taehyun smut#txt#tomorrow x together#txt smut#txt x reader#taehyun x reader
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𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖊 | 𝖘𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗
synopsis: Shuri pays a visit to Riri’s new apartment but is surprised that she no longer lives alone.
word count: 3k
warnings: smut, fingering, kimoyo bead toys, vibrating toys, dom!shuri, sub!reader, orgasm control, finger sucking, overstimulation, praise, slight hurt/angst/grief, drugged sex, marijuana use, couch sex.
note: haven’t written in a while, but I’m back now! I am slowly but surely going to get through requests, so please be patient with me ˙ᵕ˙
18+ | minors do not interact
➴ feel free to send me more thots
I set up my canvas in front of me and aligned my paintbrushes in the way I liked before lighting the spliff I had rolled earlier. I’ve been trying to get motivation, but I haven't had the easiest time finding inspiration around me since my Mother passed away due to cancer. Saying that my mom was my best friend is an understatement. At times it felt like she was all I had. I don’t have any siblings, and my Dad, I try my best not to think of him anymore. I remember crying to Riri once she returned. She hadn’t responded to my calls or messages when she got involved with the Wakandans. I understood why, but I will never forget the loneliness I felt when I couldn’t turn to my childhood best friend. If there is anyone who I can count on, it is Riri. When Riri returned, she rarely left my side. It’s the reason why we share an apartment now. We live close enough to MIT, so she doesn’t have to commute far, and my art gained a lot of following, so I opened a gallery in Massachusetts. She made money from hustling students and doing their school projects. While my gallery and custom canvases have allowed me to work and afford anywhere, I please. I took a big hit of the spliff before going on my phone to order a pizza since Riri was still at MIT working on her midterms. There was no point in waiting up for her to cook. I turned up my speakers to drown out the white noise with neo-soul, thought it would suit the vibe I’m on as I smoke and paint. I turned back towards my empty canvas, fiddling with my brush. It’s been a month, and I still couldn’t get the image of the Wakandan Princess Riri described.
I already have plenty of sketches of what I thought the Princess would look like in her panther suit, but I don’t think I’ve successfully captured the vulnerable side Riri spoke of yet. I lightly sketched an outline of her face in the top corner for reference before I decided on a pose and background. I chose the streets of Chicago to drape the backdrop, the neighbourhood I grew up in. I was centring the female Black Panther surrounded by the faceless members of the hood. I got lost in my art, utilizing my childhood memories to fill out the spaces on the canvas until I was left with the area the panther would occupy. I fiddled with my pencil as I tried to envision the stoic expression she would have.
The knock at the door pulled me away from my work. I was surprised that the pizza arrived so quickly. Tony’s Pizzeria was rarely on time, but it’s the only pizza I liked and worth the wait. I grabbed the twenty-dollar bill left on the kitchen counter and unlocked the front door to find none other than Princess Shuri. I couldn’t hide the shock written all over my face. I jolted backwards away from the door, unsure how to react.
“I’m starting to think American girls don’t like me very much. Riri had a similar reaction when I first visited her at her dorm,” she laughed.
I stood straight, still shocked that she stood before me in the flesh. Princess Shuri brushed past me to enter my apartment and closed the door to the apartment behind her. The Princess was introduced to the mess I’d made while working on my canvas. My drop cloth covered the hardwood floors, my paint supplies were strewn around my wooden stool, and my big green plants were pushed to the edges of the living room. In the distance, I could zero in on my bonnet on top of the couch. That made me spring into action, trying to tidy up the loft. She probably thinks I’m a mess! I was sure that I looked frantic as I did this.
“I’m sorry, I wasn't expecting company. Riri is supposed to come home later in the evening from her exams if that’s why you’re here.” I still held the spliff in my hand and subconsciously took another pull due to the onset of the stress of having the Princess in my apartment. I regretted doing it as soon as I blew out the smoke. “Shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I aggressively fanned the smoke away. But the Princess wasn’t paying attention to me. Instead, her eyes were trained on the canvas I was working on—focused on the spot where I sketched a rough draft of her face. I felt my heart beat out of my chest from embarrassment. Could anything else go wrong?
“I was just doodling and passing the time,” I tensed in anticipation of what she will say next.
“I don’t think you got my jawline right,” she said after giving it the last few glances. I analyzed her facial features and looked back to the canvas. She was right. The Princess’s jawline was now sharper and more defined. Gone was the roundness from the old photos I saw of her in the media. As I walked towards her, I pursed my lips in response and put out the spliff in the ashtray beside my art supplies.
“You should know I’m an artist and sensitive about my shit,” I joked.
“The one and only Erykah Badu,” she smiled in acknowledgement.
“I’m surprised you know the reference.”
Princess Shuri rolled her eyes at me as a way to say, “Duh.” I didn’t know much about her outside of what Riri and the tabloids had told me, which hasn’t been much. The Princess removed her blazer to make herself comfortable and revealed her toned arms in a muscle tank. I tried my best not to gawk as I watched her grab the wooden stool and place it on the opposite side of the canvas.
“Let me be your live muse, might as well get acquainted while we wait for Riri,” she smiled.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to keep me company,” I replied.
“But I want to, and pass me that joint while you’re up” Princess Shuri nodded towards the ashtray holding my spliff.
“Wait, Princess Shuri, are you even allowed to smoke?” I asked incredulously.
“Call me Shuri, and I will be coronated as Queen soon. So technically, I can do whatever I want now.”
“Okay… Shuri” It felt odd calling her by her first name. It made me feel like we were common acquaintances instead of strangers worlds apart. I passed Shuri the spliff, and she leaned in closer to me, tilting her head up to make eye contact with me to make it easier for me to light it. I quickly retreated to my easel to shift it over and prepped my colours to begin working. I watched as she inhaled and exhaled the smoke with ease as if she’s done it a million times. But, there was more to her than meets the eye.
“What made you get into painting?” Shuri asked. Her eyes observed the numerous half-finished projects and paintings on the wall. I’ve genuinely turned our apartment into a more personal studio.
“Uhm, my art helps me process my emotions and trauma. Each canvas is a journal entry for me. When I lost my Dad, I became depressed and introverted. It was my Mother who introduced me to art through different vessels in my life. She wanted me to have an outlet where I could express myself, something to soothe my soul, as she would say.” I blinked back my tears from the memories of her, the loss still fresh in my heart.
“She sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She was,” I whispered.
I briefly peeked at Shuri and saw her analyzing me. Her eyes were sad but filled with tenderness, “I’m sorry for your loss,” Shuri said.
“Me too,” I replied.
“I guess we have more in common than we think” Shuri sighed and pulled another drag of smoke into her lungs.
It was silent between us afterwards, only the music saving us from the tension in the room. I continued to perfect her jawline, adding a darker shade to add dimension. Shuri kept shifting her head, and it was beginning to make it challenging to get a good view of her features. Finally, I set down my brush in frustration.
“You keep moving, and it’s driving me crazy. I need you to keep facing forward toward me with your head slightly tilted to the right,” I huffed.
“Like this?” Shuri began posing in numerous ways jokingly, clearly feeling the effects of the weed. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at her goofiness. I walked towards her and gently grabbed her chin to adjust her accordingly. I stood in between her parted legs to do this. Shuri’s eyes were low and slightly red. She looked at me lustfully and slowly licked her lips. My stomach erupted with butterflies, and my nerves peaked.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
“What? Can’t I admire you? It’s only fair after you’ve been doing the same. I want to see why Riri sings such high praises of you.” Her gaze lowered to rake over my body hungrily. Shuri inhaled the last bit of the spliff and stood before me. Holding my chin, she blows the smoke in my mouth, lips grazing mine. I was thoroughly in a daze from my high and having her so close to me. The taste of smoke and her skin drove me crazy, craving more. She bent down and peppered small kisses as she made a trail to my neck, tracing her tongue along my neck and sending shivers down my spine. Shuri smelled sweet, like vanilla and had a hint of something else. I felt the pool of arousal in my panties as she teased me with her hands, groping and massaging my ass. I lightly pushed her off me to meet her eyes, my head spinning from how fast we were moving.
“What are we doing? we shouldn’t do this,” I stated.
Princess Shuri answered my question with her own, “You don’t want me to make you feel good?”
I paused at the forwardness of her question. If we continue, surely there wouldn’t be no turning back. But I didn’t want to stop now. I went on my toes to kiss her lips once more, slipping my tongue inside to deepen the kiss. Our tongues moved against the other. I pushed my body closer, rubbing my breast against hers. Shuri lifted me to press my core against hers and guided us to the couch. I straddled her as she ground herself against me. Shuri moaned in my mouth and bit my bottom lip. Her hands were firm on my hips as she moved me against her to keep pace with her movements. Shuri’s mouth left no place untouched. She left marks on my neck down to my breast. She was sucking and swirling her tongue as she did so.
“Shuri, please, I want you,” I moaned.
“How do you want me, princess?” she cooed.
“I want you to fuck me,” I admitted. She pushed me down onto my back so I was lying on the couch. Shuri toyed with the brim of my sweatpants, making her way down to my already soaked panties.
“You feel so good,” she mumbled against my neck and rubbed my clit in circular motions. Her fingers were slick with my juices. I rolled my waist to feel every stroke and closed my eyes to focus harder on how Shuri made me feel. I found myself getting lost in it until we heard the ringing of my apartment intercom.
“Fuck, that’s probably the pizza I ordered,” I groaned in frustration at the inconvenience of their timing.
“That’s alright. I’ll go get it,” Shuri offered.
“I don’t want you to stop and leave” I couldn’t hide the pout that formed on my face from the disappointment I felt.
“Who said we had to stop?” she asked.
Shuri plucked two Kimoyo beads from her bracket and slipped them onto the folds of my panties.“Be a good girl for me, and don’t cum until I come back.” I was confused about what she was referring to until I felt the active vibrations coming from the beads. I sat up in shock from the new wave of pleasure, my mouth slightly parted as I let out a soft breath. Shuri smirked in response and got up to retrieve her blazer.
“Don’t move,” she said sternly before turning her back and leaving me alone in my apartment. A small whimper left my mouth, and my thoughts were no longer coherent. I needed her to fuck me and relieve me from my aching desires.
I began panting desperately, trying to control my breathing to prevent the orgasm that was building within me. What were minutes felt like hours. The Kimoyo beads stroked my folds and clit in a painfully slow vibrating motion. I tried to find a position that would allow me to gain relief. However, the beads increased their vibration and speed whenever I tried to adjust them. Caressing my pussy with the utmost precision. Shuri knew what she was doing when she created these. I clenched my thighs together, but it only made things even more unbearable. Finally, the friction sent me over the edge, and I didn’t know how long I could stand. My legs started to shake uncontrollably. Yet I refused to move. I want to show the Princess I can be a good girl.
When Shuri came back, I was dangerously close to unloading, “Shuri, please, I want to cum” I cried.
Shuri enjoyed seeing her effect on me without even having to lay a finger. She slowly strolled to me after placing the food on the counter. I envisioned how I probably looked splayed open and vulnerable for her taking. My hair slightly stuck to my forehead, and my eyes rolled back in anticipation of what would come next.
“Look how wet you are for me.” her gaze was fixated on the darkened moist spot between my thighs. I was soaking through my grey pants. “I want you to beg for me,” she stated.
I pressed my lips in contemplation, unsure if my pride would allow such a thing. “Or I could just leave you like this while I help myself to your pizza,” she offered. “No, Shuri please!” She raised her eyebrows and only said, “I’m waiting.” I let out another moan as the beads did not subside or pause. My clit was overstimulated and tender to the touch.
I groaned in protest and looked into her eyes once more. “Shuri, I’m begging you. I want you to make me cum, only you, please.” I rambled in desperation for her to see how needy I was for her. I had no interest in games or toys.
“Louder.”
“Shuri, I only want you right now. I’ll do anything!”
Without hesitation, Shuri removed my clothing until I was left bare. The Kimoyo beads were drenched when we attached them back to her bracelet. Her strength and swiftness were evident throughout. Shuri watched me as she petted my entrance, playing with the sultry fluids inside my folds. Her mouth hovered over mine while she whispered, “You’re so beautiful when you beg.”
Shuri started thrusting into me, pounding her fingers in and out of me at an unmatchable pace. Shuri continued to push her long slender fingers into me, slightly curling them to hit my g-spot. The way my cunt clenched around her drove her to sweet insanity. Shuri’s eyes glazed over me, and she said, “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first laid eyes on you.” I met her strokes with urgency making Shuri take more control over me. Her other hand fondling my breast and nipple made me cry ecstatically. Her lips returned to the side of my neck, deepening the shade of marks she had already left. I didn’t think it was possible for her to get any deeper into my gushing pussy, but she proved me wrong. At this pace, my neighbours will no doubt know what happened. My screaming moans were insolent.
“Oh yeah, keep fucking me like that. I’m so close.”
I ground my pussy against her hand, riding the swell of euphoria that came over me. It only took a few more thrusts before I arched my back and stiffened under her command. Shuri buried her face in the curve of my neck, groaning quietly. “That’s it, baby. I got you”. The tightness in my abdomen slowly declined as Shuri whispered praises against my skin. My hips faltered from exhaustion.
Once I was settled and calmed my breathing, she slid her fingers into my mouth. I licked and sucked my cum off her two fingers until all I could taste was my saliva and arousal. “let me taste you.” Shuri removed her fingers from my mouth and replaced them with her tongue. Licking the remnants from my lips.
She pulled back to smile and brushed back my curls away from my forehead. “if we don’t move now, the pizza is going to get cold,” she said.
“I don’t think I have enough energy to stand up” my legs felt weak from trembling.
“Well, you have to eat something” Shuri smirked at her double innuendo, and I almost took her up for it before my stomach growled. Perfect timing. Shuri began to laugh even harder at the sound.
“Shut up,” I smiled. For the first time in what felt like forever, a person other than Riri had been able to make me laugh.
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