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keerysfreckles · 5 months

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reunions — steve harrington

pairing: steve x hopper!fem!reader

summary: during spring break of 86, y/n hopper flies back to hawkins indiana (dustin's request) and isn't surprised when dustin tells her the world might end again.

warnings: bit of angst (ends with fluff), use of y/n and she/her pronouns, a couple curse words

a/n: for my love :) @keerysbrowneyes

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getting a call from dustin henderson was probably the last thing that y/n thought would persaude her to go back to hawkins after her father died.

after a pretty normal sounding phone call, dustin told y/n that a curse was back in hawkins. y/n knew that could only mean one thing, which explains why she was quick to find a taxi in the busy indiana airport.

the ride to the henderson household was quick, maybe twenty minutes, and y/n knocked harshly on the faded door.

the freshman with a curly head of hair and a baseball cap was the one to open the door, and y/n's worries subsided slightly as dustin smiled up at the girl.

"y/n!" dustin exclaims, before pulling her in for a hug, which y/n gladly agrees to. "i can't believe you're here!"

y/n chuckles, "well yeah, you called, why wouldn't i be here?"

after saying hi to claudia henderson, and petting the new cat of the household, y/n was sat on dustin's bed as he explained to her everything eddie munson told him the previous night.

"so what are we doing about it now?" y/n asks, once she takes in all the new information.

"steve's going to pick us up in," dustin pauses to look at his watch, "four minutes."

y/n's voice is softer than before and her heart beats faster in her chest, "steve's still helping?"

"yeah he is, why?" dustin's oblivious as he's packing multiple things in his backpack.

y/n and steve didn't leave each other on a bad note after the mind flayer situation from the fourth of july the year prior. the pair just haven't talked much since the byer'd moved to california.

dustin and max were really the only two to call the older hopper from time to time.

just as dustin said, four and a half minutes pass and steve's horn could be heard from outside the henderson house. y/n and dustin head to his bedroom door, but dustin stands in front of the girl.

"maybe you should stay here," dustin suggested.

y/n tilted her head in confusion, "weren't you the one who called me and asked me to fly out here to help you again?"

dustin nodded, "well uh- yes, but no one else knows your here. plus we're getting food for eddie right now. i promise after we can pick you up."

y/n thinks for a moment, and dustin's puppy dog eyes aren't helping her situation.

with an eye roll from the girl, she agrees, "fine, but you better come back after you deal with eddie."

with a quick goodbye, dustin's fast to neet steve, lucas, max and robin by the familiar red bmw. steve asks dustin what took him so long, and he just brushed it off by asking which store they were getting food at.

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an hour and thirteen minutes pass, and y/n couldn't be more bored out of her mind. she was able to help claudia bake cookies, clean dustin's very crowded desk, and halfway solve a rubix cube. dustin barged back into his room, making y/n jump from the sudden noise.

"come on y/n! we don't have any time to lose!" dustin practically yelled. "i had to beg steve to come back here since the others are back at the trailer park."

y/n was quick to grab her jacket off dustin's bed and followed him out the door.

steve looked to his passenger side door once he heard it open, but was slightly confused once dustin wasn't the one in the front seat.

"y/n?" steve questions, his eyes as wide as they could be while y/n and dustin were fastening their seat belts.

"hi steve," y/n smiles and catches her breath from the previous running.

dustin pipes up from the backseat, "lovebirds, we don't have time to chat right now. drive steve!"

steve and y/n both ignore dustin's remark as steve pulls out of the henderson's driveway. the drive to back to the trailer park is silent besides the tears for fears song playing on the radio.

the only thought going on in steve's mind is why the hell y/n hopper is in his car. he took notice of the familiar flannel he's seen jonathan wear many times from the past three years, and the faded ac/dc shirt steve recognized from his own closet. how y/n stole it in the first place? steve couldn't question that right now.

after steve parks besides the table with the four other familiar faces y/n missed, steve pulls dustin aside.

"what is y/n doing here?" steve asks.

dustin shrugs, "we need all the help we can get steve, and she's joyce's favorite so of course she was able to come back here in such last minute."

steve's demeaner changes once he turns and sees y/n in a group hug with lucas, max, robin and nancy.

"i can tell you don't totally hate her being here," dustin smirks up at steve.

"hey, no!" steve's quick to dismiss dustin's idea, "okay it's not like that henderson."

dustin laughs and shrugs, "like what?"

steve just watches dustin walk over to the table, and after a moment the harrington boy follows suit.

as everyone sat at the table tries to figure out what's going on in hawkins, steve can't help but look at y/n. of course he's missed her, how can he not? he's kicked himself in the ass everyday for not calling her like he promised. as dustin's in the middle of explaining something to max, steve stands and grabs y/n's wrist.

"can we talk?" he whispers, and is grateful once y/n nods in response. the two walks over to his car and y/n leans against the side while steve paces back and forth.

"why do you seem so worked up?" y/n asks him.

"oh i don't know, maybe because it's another year with this stupid upside down shit. maybe it's because this year's even more stressful than the last. maybe it's because my parents haven't been home in six months. or maybe it's because you're here, and i can't see you getting hurt again from all of this."

steve finishes his rant and runs his fingers thorugh his hair. y/n's gaze softens at the state of the boy in front of her. y/n knew what steve meant by the last statement. steve was the only one able to keep her grounded once she found out hopper was dead, and that she was moving to california.

"steve," y/n voice is soft, in comparison to steve's quick rant. "are you okay?"

the boy's quick to shake his head, "no- no shit i'm not okay." he holds his head in his hands as he leans besides y/n against his car. y/n moves her arm to his shoulder as she stands in front of him.

"the only reason i'm glad you're here is because you're the only one who knows how to deal with me like this," steve gestures to himself. y/n also knew what he meant by this.

after every incident with the upside down, y/n and steve were always in y/n's room as they both calmed down from the events that happened.

"do you want a hug?" y/n asks, while holding her arms open.

steve nods before wiping any tears that could've fallen from his rambling and heavy breathing, and his shoulders instantly relaxed at the feeling of y/n in his arms again.

y/n took in the all too familiar scent of steve. she's missed him, everything about him. his smile, his kindness towards the kids, his hair, his jokes, did she mention his smile?

the two slightly pulled away, but didn't let go of each other.

"i'm sorry i didn't call you a lot since you moved," steve talked softly.

y/n shook her head, "steve you don't have to be sorry about that."

"no, i do have to be sorry y/n. i've been a complete dick to you since you left. i- i didn't call you like i promised. i wasn't able to comfort you when you probably needed it. i've basically ign-"

steve's words were cut off by y/n leaning up and kissing him. once she noticed he wasn't kissing back, she pulled away with a hint of concern filling her eyes.

"you kissed me," steve points out.

y/n nods, her hands not leaving steve's arms, "i uh- i did."

"why?"

"i know it um- calmed you down before. so i thought maybe to try it again. god, i'm sorry. i don't even know if you wanted it," y/n pulls away from steve, as a million thoughts fill her mind, "you could have a girlfriend. you might not even like me anymore like that. shit, i'm sorry."

y/n stops her rambling once she feels steve grab both of her arms, making her face him again after she started pacing back and forth.

"who says i didn't want it?" steve says softly, before pulling y/n back towards him as he's the one to kiss her on the lips.

y/n immediately melts into steve's arms. the pair couldn't care less about the stares and whistles they were getting from the others still sat at the wooden picnic table. steve only flashed his middle finger towards the group before running his hand through y/n's hair.

"as much as i don't want to pull away, we kind of need air," steve chuckles. he lips over his lightly swolen lips as y/n fixes her hair.

"are you guys done sucking face? we have an actual interdimensional being we have to fight," dustin has his hands on his hips, making y/n and steve laugh from their place besides steve's car.

"guess we should get back to them now?" y/n questions.

"mm, just one more," steve pulls y/n in for another kiss, to which the girl happily obliges to.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #joe keery x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine

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luveline · 6 months

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Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D

steve zombie!au fem. 1k

You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less.

"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust.

He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed.

But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks.

"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later."

He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous. "He's so nice," you say.

"No, he's not."

"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something."

"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy."

"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds.

"I'm actually making myself feel sick."

"I can wear a different coat if it–"

"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks."

"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?"

"I'm good with the kids."

"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone."

"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say."

You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you."

Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure.

"First, underwear."

"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much."

"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself.

"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks.

You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?"

"I wanna smoke these so bad."

You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings."

"Weirdo."

You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.

Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.

You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off.

You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind.

Apparently, it's been on yours.

"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."

Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose.

He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth.

"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again."

"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go."

"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted.

Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy.

It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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deftmeat · 5 months

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‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader[2.7K] soft, desperate end of the world smut.

It didn’t happen like this often, there wasn’t always a need for it. That’s not to say that yours and Steve’s sex life wasn’t plentiful… it just wasn’t always like this.

More than needy, beyond desperate, frantic, wild, the kind of sex you have with someone who almost died in front of you. The kind of sex you have with someone to remind them and yourself that you’re both still fucking alive.

You barely make it inside, adrenaline pumping, blood rushing in your ears and the absolutely insatiable need to feel your boyfriend against you in every way you could because the world had gone to shit and when the Earth had opened up at your feet, it had almost swallowed Steve whole

“Steve,” you whimpered, almost cried, because the lock was stuck and you had your hands pressed underneath his shirt and suddenly, it wasn’t enough anymore.

Vecna was gone. Not dead, not defeated, but gone. Hiding, lurking, somewhere out of sight. The town had cracked into four, split into pieces, a jigsaw puzzle no one knew how to put back together. Not yet, anyway.

That’s why you were here, at Steve’s, under instruction from Hopper to grab what you both needed and meet back at the cabin, ready to leave town, to get somewhere far away — for now. Somewhere where everyone could sit and take a fucking breath. Where everyone could be safe, even just for a day.

But you needed more than clean clothes and a toothbrush, Steve knew that too. He felt it, felt the need, the absolute agony of needing to have you right now.

“Steve,” you said again, voice broken. Your fingers dug into his sides a little, skimming over his ribs as he groaned and swore at the lock. “I need—”

“Baby,” Steve soothed, “I know, I know. Just gimme a m—”

The lock finally clicked, the key turned and you both tumbled into the dark house. It was empty, as always, and you both were told to call each of your parents and explain to them what happened before they saw it on the news channels.

Murray had grabbed you both by the shoulders, the shock slowly wearing off and settling into tiredness, a slow ache in your hearts and your stomachs and your heads. He’d told you to go home, pack a bag, call your parents and tell them you were okay, you were alive and that everything was fine.

(It wasn’t. Nothing was fine.)

He told you to tell them to stay out of town, on their vacations, on their business trips out of state. He told you to tell them that you were going to go to a motel a few towns over, that you were both with the Byers, that chief Hopper was back home and alive and keeping you safe.

It was all too much to explain over one phone call and it was too much to possibly even think about. Because how were you supposed to even begin to do such a thing? How were you supposed to keep your voice from shaking and cracking? How were you supposed to call your mom and tell her that a man had risen from the dead and the office she worked at had sunk into a crack in the earth that looked like the literal gates to hell? How were you supposed to do any of that when Steve was looking at you like he needed you more than air?

That’s why you ignored everything Murray had said, letting Steve slam the door closed behind you as he tossed the keys to the console table at the door, the one with the plastic looking photo of him and his parents, the dead flowers that sat in a crystal vase because no one was ever fucking home.

You let the boy guide you, never rough, just insistent and when he got too impatient, when the clock in the kitchen seemed to tick louder and louder, Steve whined and ducked down to meet you, lips messily slanting over yours as you stumbled into the living room together.

Steve didn’t lift you, not quite, but he tugged you against his body, your toes just brushing the floor as you both crashed towards the sofa. Steve was quick to spin you both, making sure he landed first, pulling you down on top of him until you spread your legs and straddled his thighs, lips never leaving his.

Hawkins was burning but you could only think of the boy.

Your hands shook as they travelled over his sides, his arms, pulling at his jacket until he shrugged it off, eyes clenched shut as you kept kissing him, making the softest, greediest sounds.

“Fuck,” Steve sighed, breath stuttering, “shit, c’mere, let me—”

He leaned up to you, reaching you as you sat on your knees above him, letting the boy grab the hem of your dress and pull it off. It smelled like damp and smoke and gunpowder, like the sting of moonshine from makeshift bombs.

His eyes watered at the sight of your skin, dust covered and scratched and scraped, superficial wounds that looked red and angrier than they were but Steve shook his head at them, as if he could will them away. The boy had watched you from across the hall at Creel house, as helpless and as stuck as you were as you were both forced to stare at the other as vines tightened around your necks and chests.

Real life was a living, breathing nightmare and the only thing that seemed to help you escape it, was the touch that your boyfriend could give you.

Steve was alive.

He was okay, he was safe, he was right in front of you.

It still wasn’t enough.

You were back on him before your dress hit the floor, your hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt that had a torn collar and you were whimpering as you pulled it off, impatient beyond belief.

His hands soothed at you, curling around your ribs, thumbs running circles helped the band of your bra and Steve was making soft sounds that were meant to soothe you.

“S’okay, you’re alright,” he was murmuring, hands roaming without much thought, cupping your damp cheeks, petting over your hair, pulling you into him by the small of your back. “I’ve got you, tell me what you need.”

“You, Steve,” you were crying more openly now, the comedown hitting you harder than you had anticipated and without the rush of adrenaline, there was only upset and fear. “I just need you, Stevie, please.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, your fingers working at his belt and Steve groaned, his own hands shaking as he tried to help you, both of you pushing his jeans down just enough to free his cock from his boxers. He was already half hard, the sight of you in just your underwear and the need to feel you making him twitch.

“Babybabybaby,” he murmured, “you’re good yeah? Look at me, sweetheart, lemme see your eyes.”

His hand tucked under your chin and lifted it, breathing out when your glassy eyes met his. You were panting, chest heaving, but you were still with him. Steve brushed his thumb under your lash line, swept away a stray tear and brought you back to him for a kiss, needier than before, urgent, a little messy as he licked into you, tongue pressing over yours.

You were almost sure you heard something snap, the ping of elastic as Steve unclasped your bra and dragged it down your arms, hasty and barely looking as he kept kissing you, all teeth and tongue and complete and utter fucking adoration.

He whined into your mouth when your hand wrapped around his cock, letting you swallow his sounds, kissing them from him as you dragged your palm over him, once, twice.

“Need you,” he told you and you tried not to mewl out when you nodded, pushing yourself closer into him, into his touch. “We need to be fast, sweetheart, we shouldn’t even be doing this. Not right now.”

Steve was right, of course. You knew that. You were supposed to be on the phone to your folks as you told them not to worry whilst Steve shoved clothes into a rucksack.

But despite his words, his logic, Steve was hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them to the side, breath stuttering out from his chest as he felt how wet you were. One finger, two fingers pumping in and out until you grabbed at his wrist and pushed your forehead against his.

Your eyes were closed, lips parted, stealing the breath from him as you leaned in, barely kissing.

“Just want you inside me,” you whispered and god, you sounded wrecked. “Please, baby.”

Steve’s head hit the back of the couch as he let it fall back, jaw slack and neck pulled taught. He stared up at you through hooded eyes, fingertips just pushed to your clit, moving slowly enough to make each touch feel like an electrical shock.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, but you were already pushing up onto your knees to line yourself up with him, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Christ, sweetheart, heyheyhey, shit, go slow.”

You tried to do as you were told, Steve’s hands a strong grip on your hips as you took him in inch by inch, crying out at the stretch. It was the kind of burn you wanted, a slight pinch of pain as Steve bullied his cock into your cunt, gasping at the way you clenched around.

“Fucking hell,” Steve groaned, throwing his head back, eyes clenched shut as he left crescent moon shaped marks on your hips, panting as you took all of him. He whispered your name, the softest noise, the sweetest. “Baby, baby, y’alright?”

His palm coasted up the soft of your stomach, a slow, warm drag of calluses and scars over your tits until his fingers curled around your throat, a gentle hold, enough for your eyes to snap to his.

“Talk to me,” Steve murmured, bringing your forehead to rest against his own, noses bumping, lips brushing. “Let me hear you, pretty girl.”

It wasn’t a request for dirty talk, you knew that. Not when it was like this, no, that’s not what Steve was asking for. He just needed to hear your voice. To know that you were okay, you were here and alive and breathing and safe like he was.

Your breath hitched and hiccuped, lips parting as you whined out. “Steve… Steve, I need you closer.”

It seemed like an impossible ask because the boy was already throbbing inside of you and had every inch of him but Steve just nodded. He’d give you the world if you asked for it, he’d fix the broken one you lived in, he’d stitch it back together and wrap it in a pretty, scarlet bow, just for you.

He brought you in, chest to chest, arms wrapped around you as he helped you move, a rhythm hardly there, because honestly? Neither of you were necessarily chasing an orgasm, just the need to feel the other. But you rocked and started a messy grind over the boy as he held you, your hands tangled in his hair, thick and messy with dust and grime but you didn’t care.

You wondered if it would ease the burn, the ache, the need for the boy. You wondered if you both came, gasping and groaning into each other, you wouldn’t want to cling to him for the rest of the night.

(You doubted it.)

“Atta’ girl,” Steve cooed, voice rough and heavy with desperation, mouthing at your throat, ghosting his lips over your cheek, your chin as he thrust up, hips canting. “My girl; my gorgeous, sweet girl.”

You keened, hands pulling at Steve’s hair a little rougher, making his lashes flutter, his jaw hanging slack as he fucking growled for you. It all turned a little manic then, messy, dirty, desperate.

Nails across skin, grabbing and clawing, hair pulled, lips bitten, marked up throats and aching hips as Steve held you over him, always with a surprising strength. He kept you there, his hands grabbing at your ass as he fucked up into you harder than before and the pressure, the harsh snap of his hips into yours was enough to send you over the edge.

It caught you by surprise, your breath catching in your throat in a low, babbling moan, a squeal, a swear. You clung to him, pulling Steve back to you as you came hard, your cunt slick and clenching down on him, tighter and right until he was crying out and holding you to him.

He snapped his hips one more time, burying himself into you as he came too and you were moaning out loud at the feel of him, cock twitching.

“I love you I love you I love you,” you were chanting as you came down, as you rode out your high, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck as he cried out, mouth open and pressed to your collarbone.

“C’mere,” he huffed, rosy cheeked as he tore away to look up at you, hands wide and clasping at your cheeks. “Baby, I need—”

He cried out as he kissed you, cheeks as damp as yours, the sound wrecked and desperate. You couldn’t get closer, Jesus Christ, he was still inside you and yet it didn’t feel like enough.

“I love you,” the boy mumbled into your lips, the words kissed away and kept, tucked away into a space between your ribs, yours to keep forever. “Love you so fuckin’ much, you know that, don’t you?”

You nodded, sniffling as tears rolled down your cheeks and you both tasted salt, kissing away the fear that you both felt. The night felt impossible.

“Yeah, I know,” you soothed, voice quiet, hands petting over the mess of his hair, “we’re both okay, yeah? We’re all okay.”

And you were. For now, at least. ‘Cause you were still in Steve’s arms and his lips were on your neck, kissing a soft, warm line over your shoulder. And it was selfish the way you stayed there for too long, quiet and safe in the dark of the boy’s living room whilst the world outside the window fell apart.

Neither of you moved until the phone rang, a shrill reality check that echoed through the empty house. You gasped and Steve groaned when you moved off of him, his hands warm on your hips as he helped settle you onto the couch. He handed you your dress and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth before he headed for the phone.

He was buckling his belt as he answered, brows furrowed and bare chest cold at the loss of you. You could hear the buzz of Hopper’s voice through the receiver and it made Steve’s face fall, made his eyes pinch in the corners as he nodded and told the older man,“yeah, we’ll be there soon.”

You were by his side when he hung up, forehead pressed to his shoulder and his hand found yours, fingers tangling as he brought it to his lips, another kiss, another touch, still not close enough.

You knew what you had to do, what you both needed to do. So you took a quick shower whilst Steve packed, the water scalding and running grey and red at your feet. He had fresh clothes for you when you walked back to his room, bare feet soaking the floorboards, hair dripping.

You barely felt the cold, barely registered Steve’s hand on your arm as he brushed past you to shower off the dirt and dust and blood and sex.

Maybe this was shock. Maybe this was the comedown. Maybe this is what happened when you went too long without touching the boy.

But Steve let you hold his hand the whole drive over, his car protesting at the way the roads were pulled apart, potholes and ridges in the tarmac as Steve took the best route he could towards the Byers.

And that was enough, for now.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb

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hollyhomburg · 5 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Sneek Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort.

W/c: 7.0k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter will be a little shorter than usual after such a long weight but i literally could not finish the second half of it in time. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. idk when that will change, this might just be the new reality for me 😭 when i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

~-~

Chapter 64 Sneak Peak: Pawn and King

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old streetlamp lights punctuate the darkness. But through it there are husks of metal rising like soldiers. The sky orange behind them from the distant lights of the city,

Jin’s car is there. Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as his headlights roll over it. And then further in the darkness maybe 50 feet away, Jimin's car. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine, casting everything, the river, and this building into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in it. Tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out. He stares at it.

"Hobi," he looks up at your face, and you flick the safety off. "Sink or swim?"

His hand finds yours. "Swim."

You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him. squeezing it once then letting it go. You don’t waste another second arguing. "Stay behind me."

You head off following the disturbed dust, Hobi trailing behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe. He's spent the last few months fixating on it- and you of course too. Too fixated to notice the small things that he sees plainly right now. There are facts here that Hobi has not noticed.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be the only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin? But the way you walk; completely silent as you transfer your weight from one foot to the other, is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly.

It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms, like a dancer's ballet fingers. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger and index finger along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Jimin. Hobi had almost forgotten about it. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? there are some things that you never forget, and trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are- but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you, you do not have a tell.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you. You've known he shouldn't since you picked up Jin's call.

Jimin is easy to find if only because he’s sitting in one of those puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet whimper when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway and Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!” you forget the gun and run to him, tucking it back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding water-dark fabric. Not water- blood.

Hobi stays there, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor, bubbling. Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The little bit of blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, a puddle of it. Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek.

“Hey pup” he murmurs, he laughs a little, half delirious with pain. He flinches like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs, "did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed, pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her that I’m sorry. Could you-" jimin's coughs overtake him, and fresh blood drips down the tips of his fingers, finding home in the soil below.

"Could you tell her for me?”

Coming Saturday December 9th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for stealing jewelry and a few other items from my hoarder aunt?

This was a few years ago now, I wanna say maybe 2018? My dad has two sisters, Z and K. K is married to a hoarder and has some hoarding tendencies herself so their house and particularly their garage is a mess. Not biohazard levels of mess but for sure just dusty, dirty, and stuffed with with ancient unusable garbage. K and her husband don’t have any kids, they’re both in their mid-70’s and both are in pretty poor health, so Z flew down from Florida and asked my father and I to come help clean. We agreed and came down for a day.

I have a weird relationship with my aunts. K took care of their mother until she died, and until she died my father would be at his sister’s beck and call. He would frequently abandon his own family to go help K and his mother. I don’t blame him for this, he wanted to help his sick mother, but I do blame K for using him as free labor. He built the house K is hoarding in, destroying his body in the process. Now that I’m an adult I don’t really speak to either aunt, like I had no contact with Z since Z’s second wedding in 2013. K is much closer location-wise but I don’t speak to her either because she’s just kind of off putting. The last time I spent time with her we went shopping and she kept telling me stories of her miscarriage and how annoying her husband is and pointing to someone and loudly asking “you think that’s a man or a woman?” Like I understand we are family but K and Z are as close to strangers as family can get to me. This doesn’t even cover my mom’s opinion of them and their treatment of her. Both Z and K have a history of manipulation, deception, and are both very vindictive and ignorant. She hates them both to the point of paranoia. My sister and I have a similarly low opinion of them both, but we both are more tolerable, myself especially.

So we arrive and we clean, Z and I working together to throw away a bunch of shit and my father worked on installing a new dishwasher. I stumble upon this gorgeous hanging lamp that looks like a large full moon. I text my mom about it and she flips. “That’s mine,” she says, “your father and I found that on the side of the road one night when we were first married.” So I load it into my dads car because it’s so pretty and it belongs to my parents. “Hey, you better ask if you can take that” Z says and I flat out tell her that it belongs to my mom. She shrugs and we continue to work. I find another really cool set of hanging lamps and a solid wooden lamp base carved to look like a gazelle that probably belonged to K’s husband’s parents and I took those too, with no input from Z.

These items weren’t lovingly packed and carefully stored away. They were sitting in plastic bins stuffed with dozens of boxes disintegrated plastic gloves and tools that were more rust than anything else. Towards the end of the day we discover some jewelry boxes and I take those inside to go through with K. A lot of it was junky costume jewelry but there’s some incredible pieces including a pair of 14k gold hoops that look like rams heads, a cool brass ring with an enameled signet with the Sagittarius archer, and a huge silver heart pendant. I carefully set aside the items that I would like to take home and K didn’t say anything, either because she didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Finally when we got home I showed my mom all of the cool stuff I found and she kind of scolded me, saying I should have asked to take this stuff and I brushed it off by joking that this was payment for my cleaning services. She was very happy that I rescued her moon lamp though.

I’m wearing that chunky silver heart pendant today and am thinking about it again. K doesn’t have any children so the only people who would ever inherit this junk would be either myself or Z’s kids, but Z’s daughter is no contact with Z and Z’s son lives on the other side of the country. We own the property that K lives on, pay for the taxes on it and pay for the maintenance on it all without charging K anything, so even when she and her husband die my family is going to have to clean it anyway and I can assure you I would be the only person who would actually want to sift through the garbage to find cool stuff. I feel like I saved this stuff from the landfill. I wear the jewelry I took, we have that really cool gazelle lamp displayed in our living room, and my sister said she was going to use the hanging lamps I brought home for when she has her own home. But of course I technically stole all of it and for sure will not be giving it back, even if she noticed it’s missing. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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latelyanobsession · 2 years

Text

Brusk Manners

summary you and billy are having a typical roll in the sheets when things take a sharp left turn. safe to say you weren’t expecting him to bring this into your routine. but are you mad about it?

warnings 18+ content and descriptions, smut, little to no plot, trying new things, overstim (?), so many tears, spanking, praise, unprotected intercourse, lots of goodies...

word count 2,491

note i have finally decided to write the content that i want need to see. now you cowards can join me down here in hell where its toasty or you can stay where it’s just vanilla and rainbow sprinkles. hope you babes enjoy the depravity! 😉

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

A soft breeze kissed your nose, brushing your cheek as you turned another page in your book.

Flipping to your stomach on your bed, you sighed staring out the window. It was a beautiful August afternoon. The summer was winding down.

Soon school would be back in session, and a report on this book would have to be turned in.

You hated this book. With its tiny print font, and its dry Victorian language which you could hardly comprehend. You swore the teacher picked it out just to torture you.

Who read Madame Bovary for fun anyways?

You pouted your lips, forcing your eyes back onto the page. Finding the passage you had abandoned, grumbling.

A low moan pulled your attention away from the sentence you were trying to decipher.

“Mmm.... do you always lay around like that?” A blonde peeping-tom was leering in your window.

Looking down at your bra and panties, you looked back at your visitor.

“Well it’s not like I’m going anywhere today....” you replied simply.

He disappeared a moment, scraping sounds could be heard under your window before he clambered up, and pulled himself over the windowsill into your room.

Your parents were going to eventually regret giving you a first floor bedroom, even if the window was eight feet off the ground.

Flopping out onto your carpet he smirked at you.

“Yer killin’ me!” he exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes, rising off the bed to kneel next to him.

“You know you could have just come to the door... Nobody’s home.” you prodded lightly.

Tracing a hand up your thigh, he eyed the matching set you had on. Not answering.

The two of you had been having a summer fling ever since he first spotted you in a sleek little black number at the Hawkins Community Pool back in early June.

When everything happened with the mall fire and Billy was hospitalized, things died out between you.

You visited him many times while he was recuperating. Mostly while he had been unconscious.

The day you came when he finally woke up, he yelled at you, setting off the alarm on his heart rate monitor.

Aside from his family, and that group of kids his sister hung out with... you were the only one who had come by to see him.

One time sneaking a pack of Marlboros under his pillow, for when he came around.

The second time you came back to see him after he awoke, he was still just as angry at you.

So you stopped coming. Tucking your tail and sulking off like a puppy shoved out of the house and into a raging storm.

A couple weeks after his release from the hospital, he showed up on your doorstep. You were shocked.

“Max said you came to see me every day?” His voice was laced with guilt.

Your cheeks flushed. “Should I not have? I’m sorry.”

His sister was in the passenger’s seat of his camaro, staring at you intently.

He winced, throwing up a hand to stop you.

“I was a dick....shouldn’ta been.”

He turned to walk off.

“Thanks for the smokes....”

You supposed that had been an apology.

From that time on he would swing by your work, pick you up and drive you out to secluded areas around Hawkins for quickies in the backseat of his car.

On any given day off, you would spend it more often than not in your bedroom, in multiple positions.

Tossed around and rutted against until your voice was hoarse and your insides were so sore that sitting the next day would be difficult.

There was no spoken label on what you two were to each other. But what you were unofficially was necessary.

“Billy...?” his oceanic eyes looked up at you.

“Did you just come to stare?... I know it wasn’t for the summer reading list.” you teased.

Slipping a finger under your waistband and snapping it against your skin, he chuckled.

“Y’know me too well.” he rose from the floor, pulling you along with him.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you flush against his chest, his hands wandering south and grabbing a handful of your ass. Squeezing roughly.

Looking up at him through hooded eyes, you gasped.

“How’s bout I take your mind off that book for a while?” he thrummed, nuzzling the soft skin of your neck. A sharp nip grabbing your attention.

“Yes! Puh-lease!” you agreed excitedly.

He gruffly shoved you, the back of your knees knocking against the bed, as he easily toppled you.

Kicking off his high-tops, he crawled on top of you. Hands ghosting up your sides.

“If I knew ya paraded around like this...” he wandered off, hooking his index finger under the center of your bra and lifting you up towards him.

Placing open mouthed kisses across the tops of your breasts, up your collarbone, and to your jaw, he slowly accentuated each one with a small wet pop.

“definitely woulda been fuckin’ ya sooner.” he concluded. Sliding a hand around your neck, gently squeezing as his lips found yours.

You whimpered eagerly, plucking at his bottom lip with your teeth as he slotted his mouth against yours hungrily.

He growled in response, tossing you back against the bed, tearing the white muscle tank over his head and discarding it.

Reclaiming your lips he crooked his thumbs around your waistband, inching them down off your frame, and whisking them from your ankles to the floor.

You were already glistening with arousal.

He smirked at the sight, tongue peeking between his teeth.

“Look how wet you are...” he breathed, jerking your hips into his lap, “haven’t even touched ya!”

You watched him with bated breath. Eyes wide and lust blown.

Pulling you up higher and draping your legs over his shoulders, he locked eyes with you.

He smirked, tongue barely contained. Winking at you devilishly before he dove straight in.

Pressing his tongue flat against your slit, he ran it teasingly from top to bottom. Probing your entrance, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress.

He pinched your ass, making your eyes snap back open and refocus on him.

You whined loudly, your hips rolling in tandem with each pass that his tongue made.

“Billy...” you whimpered, his ministrations becoming more focused. Every swipe becoming harsher, tantalizingly longer. Dragging his tongue out against your clit and suckling it between his teeth.

Your hips were beginning to stutter, grinding greedily against his mouth. That all familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach.

“So close” you heaved out in short panting breaths.

And like that he dropped you. Without ceremony.

Thumping into the mattress.

“S’not nice to tease Billy...” you sniveled, your chest rising and falling with just how close you truly were.

Shedding the rest of his clothes he climbed back onto the mattress.

A smug look on his face.

“You’re gonna cum...” he mocked your quivering lip, coaxing you to lift up as he pried off your bra and carelessly tossed it.

“Just when I want ya to.” he chided.

Grabbing your leg, he wrenched your body down the length of the bed to meet him.

Looming over you he smirked, the corners of his lips pricked in wicked delight.

“You’re a real sight like this....” he teased, eyes washing over you as he licked his lips.

“Ya gonna continue to tease me... or fuck me?” you huffed out in a shaky response.

He regarded you with a vulturous stare, grabbing up your wrists and pinning them above your head.

Darkly watching your expression, he rut himself several times against your sopping folds. Slicking himself.

Angling your hips, you chewed your lip in anticipation as you felt him press the head of his cock to your entrance.

“Billy!” you mewled loudly as he pushed deeper, sheathing himself fully inside you.

“Fuck baby!” he exhaled sharply, leaning in and capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Slinging your legs around his waist, you kissed him back feverishly as he started to move.

Breaking the kiss, he extended his back out. Leveraging his height to draw his hips back and drive into you with harsh deep strokes.

Each contact pulling deep breathy moans from your throat in rapid succession.

Arching your back, you pulled him closer. High-pitched whines falling from your lips.

Heat was rippling across your skin, your desire building. Coiling inside you.

The sound of skin on skin was echoing through the room, as Billy leaned close, biting your swollen lips.

“Hold on....” he warned.

“What?” you breathed.

He effortlessly flipped you to your stomach, raising you up on your knees.

You went scrambling, clutching at the sheets as he slammed his pelvis against you.

“Billy!” you keened shrilly.

A hand came down against your ass, and you choked. A broken moan shamefully leaving your body.

Another.

A deep growl leaving his chest. “Like when I fuck you this way, huh?”

“Yeh” you practically sobbed.

Digging your fingers into the mattress, you started pressing yourself back meeting him thrust for thrust.

A deep rumble of approval emitted from his throat as he smacked both your asscheeks.

“There she is... there’s my girl.” he praised.

“Close!” you warned, crashing yourself back against him.

You were wound tight. Starting to feel a bit lightheaded. Right on the very precipice.

Wrapping his hand around your neck, he pulled you to his chest, picking up his pace.

Running a hand down your front, he lazily fondled your clit. Making you cry out, and clutch at him.

“How close?” he taunted, thrusting deep.

You grimaced, wriggling in his hold. The stimulation making you clamp down on his wrist. Digging in your nails to stay grounded.

“Billy!” you begged brokenly, “-’m right there.... please!”

He toyed with you, his thrusts becoming unhurried and fingers dancing on your tense bundle of nerves.

“Hmmmm.” he contemplated.

You turned in his grasp as best you could, looking up at him. Head resting against his chest.

“Please.” you pled, watery doe eyes flashing up at him.

He grinned down at you wolfishly.

Resuming his pace he pumped back into you, targeting your clit with rough and constant pressure.

“Ok. Baby...” he cooed, “you can cum.”

Not releasing your grip, you held onto him as you felt the tidal wave hit. Washing over you in a sudden rush of warmth.

Your jaw falling slack, and eyes rolling back as your walls compressed around him.

You felt Billy slowing as your climax hit. Which was highly unusual, but collapsing into the mattress, you didn’t think to question it.

He pulled out making you whimper.

Panting you lay there, limply. Head swimming as you tried to gather yourself back up.

“Wanna try somethin’...” he drawled from behind you, stroking his knuckles up the length of your thigh.

“Ok...” you said dreamily.

Something wet and slippery hit your ass, his fingers massaging your skin.

You ignored him, feeling increasingly tired.

That was until he started trailing his fingers between your asscheeks.

You turned your head curiously.

You were exhausted. He should be exhausted.

Blinking with glossy eyes, you watched him. Feeling his fingers sliding and circling around that tight ring of muscle.

He cautiously pressed his index finger against it, gaging your reaction. You simpered weakly, not rebuffing him.

Gaining confidence, Billy pushed further, slipping a digit inside. You whined softly without lifting your head.

You had admittedly never held this conversation with Billy before. Granted you also hadn’t expected him to spring it on you when you were this tired.

So far, it didn’t seem so bad, compared to all the horror stories you had heard. It actually felt pretty good.

After a while of gliding his finger in and out he decided to add another. Your whimpers only encouraging him.

“It hurt?” he asked.

“No...” you replied airily, lolling your head to the side.

If anything, you may have believed that you were beginning to love the feeling. And whined out when he withdrew his fingers.

Laying your head to the bed you sighed in disappointment, tensing when something much much larger touched you.

Looking over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Billy.

The apprehension in the air was palpable.

“You liked it so far...” he reasoned.

“Fingers aren’t cock!” you squeaked.

He looked at you guiltily. “Please?”

You snorted sharply.

“You’ll stop if I say?” you asked warily.

“Yes. Course!” he replied, “I’ll go slow...”

You lay there and thought. ... And thought.

“Ok... but go like... real slow.” you instructed.

He nodded, “I will.”

“Yah gotta relax babe...” he soothed, stroking your back.

You took a deep breath, trying not to think about it, letting yourself slip back into your sleepy state.

“That’s it. Good.” he cooed, continuing to run his hands up your spine.

You closed your eyes, focusing on his touch.

Thoroughly coating himself in lube against your skin he gingerly guided himself in.

The first couple of seconds felt fine. The rest of it nowhere near.

The stretch felt unreal, you thought for certain he was ripping you apart.

He was groaning, biting his lip. “Fuck! So fuckin’ tight!...”

White hot pain with every intrusive inch making you moan. No. Scream.

Tears falling out of your eyes beyond your control as he pushed his way in.

Fully seated against you he waited.

“Are you ok?” he questioned in concern.

You blinked in shock, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. The sting, the throb, the sensitivity. It was all addling your mind.

“Y-yeh... think so.” you spluttered out.

He reassuringly kissed your shoulder, slowly pulling back setting a light pace.

A heady moan raked your frame, as he started in. Your body growing more accustomed to the sensations and his size.

The pain was subsiding being replaced with a sensation that made your stomach flip and insides quiver.

Your moans were growing louder. Bolder.

“P-pick it up...” you begged, propping your knees underneath your weakened frame.

“You sure?”

“Yes” you dragged out in a long broken plea.

He groaned, slapping your ass. “Oh what a good girl! Love all the ways I fuck you?”

Gaining speed, his thrusts slammed into you. Your cries reverberating off the walls. The bed shaking.

“I’m gonna make this ass mine”, he growled, his hands groping the globes of your ass. “Would you like that baby?”

You threw your head back mewling in reply. “B-billy!”

His thrusts were growing rougher, sloppier.

Bending over top of you he pressed himself flush against you as his orgasm hit.

Grinding into you, spurring a climax of your own. Making you clench down around him. Your vision hazing over.

He growled, filling you, as you keened at the top of your lungs.

You both collapsed. He carefully pulled out, rolling to his back. Breathless.

Weakly, you looked at him. A dumb grin plastered across his face.

“So...” he panted, “would you ever do that again?”

#stranger things smut #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n

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actual-bill-potts · 9 months

Text

Finarfin shifted anxiously, smoothing down the front of his robes. He adjusted his sash. His braid had fallen over one shoulder and he hastily flicked it back, shifting from foot to foot.

Findaráto would emerge, any moment now, his firstborn son firstborn again. Where was he? His eyes strained for any hint of gold against the great dark gates of Mandos.

He and Eärwen had planned carefully every detail of this reunion. Well they had remembered the confusion that had attended the first Returnings of slain Teleri: how a joyous crowd had waited singing outside the gates, and how the newly-emerged Falathrim had flinched and drawn back from the noise, wept at the onslaught of body pressing near to new-formed body. They had learned quickly to avoid large crowds, and keep the number of greeters to a quiet two or three.

Then there had been the confusion of the first euphoric rush upon the lifting of the Doom. The Great War over, loved ones coming home, and no decree from Finarfin could keep the Noldor who had waited for so long from gathering - until again Elf upon Elf flinched back from loud noises, from unexpected movements, from touch and from crowds. Then they had listened, and now only one or two at a time came to greet their child or parent, spouse or sibling.

When they had received the news, Finarfin and Eärwen had wrangled without rancor over every detail of this reunion. Should both go, or just one? Finarfin had wanted the former, afraid of giving his son offense; but Eärwen grimly recalled how many of those held by Gorthaur the Cruel flinched at first at familiar faces.

"You should go," she had said wearily, "for you departed from him in grief only, and I in deadly anger. I do not want to see my son afraid of me."

"Surely -" Finarfin had begun to protest. Then he stopped. He too had heard the stories from the prisoners they had rescued from Angband: prisoner upon prisoner, from tunnels that seemed to go on forever. He remembered how so many had fallen into despair at the sight of so many Elves, tall and shining: how many former thralls had cried out and begged for mercy at the touch of a friendly hand.

"Very well," he said; and then, tentatively: "are you still angry with him?"

Eärwen smiled at him, tired but there in all her silver glory. "I cannot be. This is a new Age, and one of my children is coming home. I have been angry for so long. I am weary of it."

Then there was the question of clothing. Should Finarfin wear his crown? Should he wear the style that had been the fashion in Findaráto’s youth, and which was now hopelessly out of date? Should they have new clothes made for Findaráto, or bring the old? Would he want to choose them himself? Would he be hungry?

The Returned, they had discovered, often came back full of the sensations they remembered most strongly, until their body reasserted its mastery over memory. Some wept unceasing and could not be comforted for days; some were overmastered by fear and flinched at every touch or motion; and some were simply - hungry, or in pain. And Findaráto, Finarfin and Eärwen remembered from the Lay of Leithian - how they had wept hearing it for the first time! - had been both before he died.

So Finarfin stood now, bareheaded and dressed in the softest robes he could find (he did not want to abrade Findaráto’s new-made skin, in case his son wanted an embrace), carrying a pack with food and water, miruvor and new clothing (soft as water within a tidepool), shoes if Findaráto wanted them, and the desperate hope he and Eärwen had felt when gathering the supplies, that their son would not feel the lack of anything.

There was a whisper, carried on a chill breeze. Finarfin shivered, then stilled as he heard the words: Thy son approaches. In mercy he is released. Live well and walk justly.

So many times he had heard those words spoken to others, presiding over reunions; and each time he had pushed down the desperate longing for his own children, brushed aside his grief-filled wondering: would his own sons come forth again? Would his daughter come home?

Then his mind was wiped clean of all as the shadows about the gate briefly grew lighter, and he caught the glint of gold hair to match his own for the first time in nearly eight hundred years.

All their careful preparations flew out of his head, the pack dropped from his hand with a clatter, and he stood rooted to the spot as first an elegant hand, then knee and foot, and finally Findaráto’s yellow-crowned head melted fully from the shadows and came together to form -

His son. His son! His first child, his beloved son who now stood blinking in the light of Anar, chest rising and falling, eyes falling upon Finarfin -

Finarfin held his breath as Findaráto’s brown eyes met his own. He kept every muscle perfectly still, for he knew if he did not exert the utmost control he would break and sprint for his son, and never let him go again - or else sink to the ground weeping. Findaráto, he thought, Findaráto Ingoldo, my firstborn, we love you, we have missed you so much; and from far away he could feel Eärwen’s spirit crying out the same.

Findaráto took a hesitant step forward, into the light, wavering as he found his balance. Then another. His eyes were very wide.

“Atya?” he said, in the Quenya of his childhood. “Thou art here?”

Finarfin felt his eyes fill, then overflow. Do not alarm him, he scolded himself, but he could not stop. Tears were running down into his cheeks, falling unheeded to the dirt.

“I am here, Findaranya,” he choked out. “Hinya - tyenya -”

Findaráto took another slow step forward. He was only an arm’s length away. This close, Finarfin could see the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. They had always sprung into full force whenever they visited Tirion and the light of Laurelin fell upon his son’s upturned face. Of course Findaráto would have had freckles in Beleriand, where Anar reigned, Finarfin thought, feeling oddly bereft. He reached out a trembling hand, slowly, ready to drop it back to his side in an instant at the slightest flinch.

Findaráto was still; then suddenly he fell to his knees in the dirt. The molten light of Anar lowering in the sky crowned him in fire.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I left thee. Thou wert grieving and alone, and I left thee.”

For an instant only Finarfin was stricken silent; then he knelt beside his son. “No,” he said. “Hinya, there is no - no debt between us, no grudge neither I nor thy mother bear thee, nothing - nothing thou needst apologize for, tyenya, hinya, Findaranya. Thou art -” he was weeping too hard to speak for an instant. He had to cover his face in his hands briefly; then he continued, through the tears. “Thou art here. Here, and alive.”

Findaráto turned to look at him. He was still so quiet within himself. Finarfin did not dare reach out and touch him, lest he dissolve into the lowering rays of fire and leave them again childless and bereft.

“I have missed thee, Atar,” he said, staring again at the road.

“And I have missed thee. Every day of thine absence.”

Findaráto looked up. “I have been - there is so much grief,” he said. “So much lost.”

“I know,” said Finarfin.

“But thou art here,” said Findaráto. His eyes flickered briefly up to meet Finarfin’s. “And Ammë?”

“She waits for thee,” said Finarfin. “I told thee she bears no grudge.”

“Thou art here,” repeated Findaráto.

“Yes,” said Finarfin, “and I shall not leave - thy mother and I - we shall not leave - and I will kneel upon the road with thee all the night if that is thy wish.”

He meant it, he found, with skin and bone, muscle and sinew. He would cast aside his crown in an instant and sit upon this dusty roadside for an Age, if it meant his son would not leave again.

Findaráto blinked, and blinked again; then he pitched forward. His arms wrapped about Finarfin’s shoulders as they had in his youth - smaller then, but still his - his tears were wetting Finarfin’s braid set all askew, his pulse was beating against Finarfin’s chest.

Finarfin gathered him close as he wept, tears coursing anew down his own cheeks. “Hinya,” he said again. He could not stop saying it. “My child. My child is home.”

#finarfin #finrod #earwen #silm fic #my writing #the silmarillion

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ficmashup · 3 months

Text

A Trip to Scotland

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Sort of sequel to Taken, but this is the trip to Scotland (obviously, given the title) but I'm gonna let it stand along as it's own thing. Nearly panicked this week because my laptop charger died on me and had to immediately order another, but so relieved to have my writing back again. So this is a bit of a celebration. Don't think I'm quite done with G and Price yet, but I might write for someone else soon. Still thinking on it. ;)

Warnings: Hm, language? Fluff. Not many warnings this go round. Not beta'd.

Word Count: 4.5K

Masterlist

“So what exactly should I be preparing myself for?” I ask as I tuck away a few folded clothes into my duffel with a glance to John sitting on the chest at the end of the bed. We’re back home and I’m packing a few last-minute things before heading out for my flight. It took the entire few days to convince Soap that I didn’t need him at my side 24/7 to ferry me home, then to Scotland. So he’s already there eagerly awaiting the time to pick me up from the airport. At least according to the dozen text messages he’s already sent me today.

John smiles and shakes his head. “Soap’s family is alright. A bit much all at once, but they’re good people and I’ve little doubt you’ll get along.” There’s laughter in his voice that makes me raise a brow at him, but I let it slide. I’m sure I’ll find out what he means soon enough. I zip up my bag and he’s instantly on his feet to take it before I even touch the handles. My eyes roll even as I smile and begrudgingly take my crutch to shuffle into the kitchen.

“Three older sisters, right?” I ask as I settle on a stool and John sets my bag by the door.

He nods and moves towards me. “Three older sisters. He’s the baby, which explains a lot.” I smirk as he stops next to me and I reach out, pulling him closer by the hem of his shirt. His smile sweetens and his hand lifts, pushing my hair back as his thumb brushes over my cheek. “I’ll miss this.” He says softly, almost unintentionally, and I smile as I lean into his touch.

“Mm. The feeling is mutual.” This thing between us is still so new and shiny, I’d be happy sitting and staring at him do literally anything. Which is another reason why this little separation is a good idea. If I get any sappier, then I’m going to make myself sick. “I’ll text you updates and call you when I can?” I say the last part a bit hesitantly, not sure if it’s too much too soon.

“Sounds good. Good luck finding a moment alone in that house though.” He says with a smirk and once again I’m struck by the notion that he’s not telling me all that he could. My mouth opens to ask when there’s a knock at the door. My brows furrow and I become even more suspicious when John’s smile widens. “I’ll get it.” He presses a kiss to my lips and lingers a bit as my fingers curl into his shirt. He hums softly against my mouth and the pressure of the kiss increases before he pulls away, his hand kneading my skin lightly before he reluctantly walks to the door. I watch with a smirk before the door opens and surprise makes my expression go blank.

Simon shakes Price’s hand before looking at me with smug humor in his eyes. “Ready for our flight, G?”

I raise a brow as my eyes go wide. “Our flight? You’re shitting me.” I look between both men who simply smirk. My accusing gaze settles heavy on John. “Who was it that decided that I needed babysitting on a fucking hour long flight?�� There’s no heat in my tone, but it gives me some pleasure to see Price shift his weight onto his back foot.

“Majority vote, G. Aren’t you glad for my company?” Simon teases flatly and it’s at least a treat to see his eyes sparkling so brightly. Even if it is at my expense.

“Mm. It’s nice having a pack mule, I suppose.” I tease him right back as he grabs my bag and easily heaves it over his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. My gaze goes back to John. “Suppose you can walk us out then, Captain.” I emphasize his title, letting him know that with Simon here, that’s the only goodbye that he’s going to get. He chuckles and ducks out next to Simon while I lock the door behind me.

“Go on, we’ll go slow and meet you outside.” Price pats Simon on the shoulder and he doesn’t pause, happy to keep moving on a mission as he slips down the stairs. My head shakes even as I smile and tuck my keys away as we move slowly down the hall.

“You realize that out of everyone, he probably already knows.” I say quietly and wrap my arm around his, letting him support me more than the crutch as we take our time walking down the hall.

John smiles and half-shrugs a shoulder. “Probably, yes. But he’s the least likely to say something as long as he knows we want things quiet.” He reaches forward and presses the button for the lift, his smile widening when he hears my impatient sigh at having to wait for the tiny box. If I could walk, I’d be headed for the stairs after Simon.

“You’re still happy with that?” I glance up at him as there’s a little ding and we step onto the lift.

He meets my gaze. “I am. But I’m glad to talk it through if you’ve changed your mind.”

My head shakes and I take the time to let my fingers rub over the inside of his arm, taking in the feeling of his skin. “No, I like the way things are. Though we should talk about what we’ll say…eventually.” There’s little doubt in my mind that they’ll figure things out sooner rather than later. Although we might last a little longer if Simon decides to work with us and throw the others off the scent.

“Something to think about while we’re apart.” He sounds a touch disgruntled this time and even though I feel the same, I do get a little thrill at knowing he’ll miss me.

“So…are you going to kiss me before the lift stops?” I relish the surprise that widens his eyes, then the cute crinkling of his eyes as he turns towards me. He reaches out and presses the buttons for the last few floors so we’ll make a stop at each one.

He turns towards me and I can’t help smiling as he tilts my chin up. “Do you want me to?”

“What do you think?” I keep my voice low and cloying, unable to help teasing him as he stoops a bit so his lips are an inch from mine. We take small, slow steps back until I can feel the wall behind me and my hand claims the handrail to keep me steady on one foot.

“Like hearing you tell me yes.” He murmurs and I breathe in that distinct scent of cigars as he practically speaks onto my lips.

“Pretty sure you hear me chirp ‘yes sir’ almost every day at work.” I whisper back, smirking as my other hand rests on his side to pull him closer, feeling his heat searing my hand through his shirt.

His head shakes, his nose almost brushing mine with each movement. “Not the same. Like hearing you ask me for things. Like giving you what you want.” Warmth fills my chest at the simple, sweet sentiment. I know the words will loop in my head later when I’m alone in bed, wandering if he’s the same way in other areas.

“And I like making you wait.” I tease again and my toes curl at the deep, rumbling laugh that makes his chest vibrate.

“You’re about to make both of us wait for two weeks. Can’t take it easy on me this once?” He raises a brow and I grin, pulling him in and pressing my lips to his. As always, his mouth is soft and warm on mine and fills me with slow heat with every touch. It’s easy and slow and I like that he takes his time making me melt into his hands. My head tilts to give him permission to deepen the kiss and he pauses for a moment, making sure I mean it, then pushes in again.

His hands frame my face and my stomach flips when I feel his calluses sliding against my skin. My lips part as I feel nothing but the wall behind me and the intense heat of him in front of me. His tongue tentatively glides over my bottom lip and I melt even further against him, pulling on his shirt as a silent plea for more. I’m only vaguely aware of the first ding of the lift as it stops and the door opens, but John treats this as a warning that our time is becoming shorter. This is new territory for us and it makes me think I may have underestimated how he might feel about being apart for two weeks. “So sweet f’me.” He mumbles into my mouth before giving me another firm kiss.

I huff softly, making a fist in his shirt as the doors close and the lift moves again. “Mean to tease like this before I leave.”

He smiles and I like tasting it. “You asked for it.”

“I asked for a kiss.”

“And I gave you one.”

“That was…more than a kiss.”

“Are you disapproving?”

The doors ding before opening again and I know the next time they open, we’ll have to get off. “No. I am debating on what it might take for Simon to let us do this in the back of the car on the way to the airport.” His eyes widen for a moment, then he’s laughing and I’m soaking in the sound.

“Hm, don’t think he’d put up with that, sugar. Tempting as it is.” His thumbs brush over my cheeks before reluctantly stepping back after making sure I’m steady on my feet.

“Pity.” I sigh and straighten out his shirt with a smirk as we come to the bottom floor and walk out. Simon has already tossed my back in the back and has a hand on the passenger side door. My head shakes, but I walk over and let him open my door, pretending not to notice his hand hovering over the small of my back as I slide in the seat. He and Price shake hands and pat each other’s shoulders before he continues to walk around to the driver’s side. My eyes soften as I look out at Price and give him a playful salute to see him smile before we pull out.

* * *

It becomes clear to me almost immediately that Simon isn’t a fan of public flights. It’s not a surprise given the cramped space filled with people, my head is on a swivel too, but we quickly fall into an easy pattern of covering for the other. If one of us needs to talk to someone, then the other moves behind and watches their back. It affords the both of us a little extra comfort and it’s easy letting him carry our bags. I think he likes having the added weight to steady him and it does make it easier for me to walk.

As we settle into our seats and my hand slides over his arm to try and leech out some of the stiffness, I’m not sure whether he was actually sent to help me or for me to help him. I reach into my carry on and immediately perk up when I find a little bag of hard candies inside. John or Kyle slipped them in there no doubt. I take one for myself, then offer the bag to Simon. He laxes a bit and smirks, accepting the offering and popping it into his mouth.

“You’ve been here before, yeah?” I ask softly, incredibly thankful that there’s no one else in our row.

He nods and moves the candy into his cheek. “Scotland or the MacTavish’s?”

My eyes roll. “Pretty sure you’d have to have been to Scotland in order to have been to the MacTavish’s.”

“Mm. There a question in there?” He shifts in his seat, frowning at the lack of space for his broad body.

“What do you think of them?” I fish for a little information, maybe what John didn’t want to tell me, and also just to keep his discomfort level low.

The frown on his face fades as the corner of his mouth twitches and amusement glimmers in his eyes. “They’re good people. A lot like Soap in all the best ways. A bit noisy when you first meet all of them, especially if they bring their families and little ones, but eventually it becomes a pleasant buzz in the background.”

My brows furrow. “How many people are going to be there?”

His smile widens a touch. “The entire family gets together on the weekends, so you’ll meet everyone.” I breathe out, long and slow, promising myself that John will be getting an earful about leaving out that particular detail. Especially since it’s Saturday, so I’m really being shoved into the lion’s den.

* * *

Simon knocks on the front door before deftly moving behind me as it swings open to reveal a grinning Soap. “G! Glad you finally—”

“Is that the famous G we’ve heard so much about?” A voice cuts him off and she sounds like an older woman, probably his mother. My eyebrows raise at hearing that I’m apparently famous. I’m not sure whether to be worried or flattered.

“Get her in here! I’ve been dying to meet her!”

“JJ, you’re blocking the entire doorframe with your fat head. Move over!”

I’m assaulted by a chorus of women’s voices before someone slides over and bumps Soap with her hip while holding a baby on the other side. She’s probably in her upper thirties. “Well, let her in! Thought the military was supposed to teach you manners?” Her smile is wide and pretty, like Soap’s, and her dark curly hair is wild even though it’s cut at her jaw. Just out of reach from the baby in her arms. “Come on in, G, we’ve heard so much about you. Glad you made it too, Simon.” She practically shoves Soap out of the way to make room for Simon and I to step in. He keeps to my back and I’m not sure if it’s to make sure that I don’t fall over or to make sure I don’t turn right back around.

“Thanks for havin’ me.” Simon says and the woman shakes her head as if he says this every time and it isn’t necessary. Decorations from the winter holidays are still up and most every other surface is covered with a toy, a child, or another family member. I release a long breath and feel Simon brace a hand high on my back as if reminding me I have back-up.

“I’m Shiloh.” The woman with wild curls introduces herself while easily holding her kid with an arm and offering her free hand to me. I shake it with what I hope is a smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure meeting you all as well.” I manage to respond as another woman pops up from sitting on the floor amongst the kids. She has wild curls too, but her hair has a red tint and she’s a touch shorter. Probably mid-thirties.

“Sorry, we know it’s a lot when you first come in, but we’re so happy you’re here!” She shakes my hand with a bit more vigor, her smile bright and wide with sparkling eyes. “You were all JJ talked about when you joined the team and we’re glad you turned out to have a brain.” She gives Simon a pointed look and I’m pretty sure he smothers a chuckle at the firm look. “I’m Shaye, by the way.”

“Let the woman sit, she shouldn’t be on her leg!” An older woman with greying russet hair and round curves waves everyone away as she walks over to me and my eyes go wide as she frames my face with her hands. She’s short and I have to lean down a bit as she draws me close. “It’s so good to have you here with us, lass. So good.” And I can tell she means the sentiment as her eyes crinkle at the sides as she appraises me. She plants a firm kiss to my cheek before reaching behind me and patting Simon’s cheek, then stepping back. “I’m John’s mother. Call me Grace. His father is out back with the rest of the riff raff, but they’ll be in a little later. Go on, pick a place to settle and we’ll kick out whoever is sitting there.”

“Good luck getting Uncle Mick out of his seat.” Soap mutters to Shaye and she grins while looking over at a man snoring softly in an armchair. I’m only half aware of walking over to what seems like the least obtrusive seat, a stool at the counter overlooking the kitchen, and Simon settles next to me. He immediately pulls my foot into his lap to make sure I keep it elevated while I give him a sharp look that only makes him smirk.

“My youngest girl is out trying to wrangle the men into actually cookin’ things on time, but the meal’ll be done soon enough. Just make yourself at home.” Grace says warmly before flitting around the kitchen once again.

“Smells good as always.” Simon says and earns a wide smile from her and an eyeroll from Soap standing beside him. The room is filled with soft conversation and it’s a relief that no one tries to pull me into any for a while. I’m allowed to sit and survey while my mind sorts through the faces, the sounds, and the comforting mess accompanying a large family. There are two toddlers on the floor and a baby passed between the few milling around the room. Apparently, there are more kids out back with their dads and another baby only a few months old, but I’m content letting them come to me rather than seeking them out.

Eventually everyone filters inside and I get to meet Soap’s youngest sister, Siobhan, whose cheeks are rosy from the chill outside. Her eyes light up the second she sees me and she rushes over, stopping just a second before crashing into me to shake my hand. She’s got to be close to Soap’s age. “You must be G! Thanks for keeping my brother in one piece out there.” She winks at me, her bubbly attitude sobering a touch. “It’s a real comfort for all of us knowing he’s got another person watching his back.” Her hand squeezes my arm before she’s called away and I stare after her, feeling warm and surprised.

I feel Ghost’s eyes on me and glance at him to see his eyes crinkled slightly with a soft smile. He nods once. It was like this for him too, then. “I’m gonna give you all such shit for not warning me about all this sooner.” I mutter under my breath, obviously not meaning a word, and he chuckles softly.

“Looking forward to it.” He returns with a twinkle in his eye.

Soap walks over with a fussing baby swaddled up in his arms, this must be the one that had been outside, and slaps Simon’s shoulder. “Dad wants you for a minute.” Simon nods and gently gets up to his feet as Soap takes his place on the stool holding my ankle. I huff.

“Pretty sure there are plenty of children here for you to babysit. I’m fine here.” They glance at one another before shrugging and doing exactly the same thing that they were doing. My head shakes, but I don’t bother objecting more.

“John, can you grab that for me?” His mother asks from the kitchen and he hesitates, looking at me.

I wave him on with a little roll of my eyes. “Promise I won��t move from this spot.” I swear and he smirks before hopping up and setting my foot slowly on the stool so I’m not jostled. He pauses another second and my stomach swirls at seeing the mischief building in his eyes as he steps close and ever so gently lowers the baby into my stiff arms. My head instantly starts shaking as she squawks and her face pinches at the exchange. “Johnny, don’t you dare—”

“Only for a minute, G. Just don’t stand up because you have poor balance right now. Wouldn’t want to risk the bearn.” He grins at me and slides into the kitchen while I stare down at the tiny human now in my arms. I…I’m actually not sure if I’ve ever held a baby in my life. I shift her a bit and pull her close with my arms firm but not too tight around her. She coos and I instinctively start swaying a little in my seat.

“I know, I’m sorry your mean Uncle Soap gave you to some strange lady. A very not cool uncle thing of him to do.” I whisper softly, feeling her weight and warmth sink into my chest. Her blinks get a little slower and I can’t help smiling down at her. Maybe this isn’t too bad. “Must be pretty nice getting held and rocked all the time. Take advantage of it while you can.” I relax a little more and lean back in my seat while continuing to bounce her a little until her eyes are shut and her little mouth is left open. I wonder briefly if this is how Johnny looked as a baby and my smile widens at the thought.

Soap comes back over, but doesn’t reach for her so I don’t make a move to give her back. “Seems you’ve got the special touch. She usually fights sleep a bit harder.”

“Mm. Bet you weren’t this cute when you were a baby.” I tease and he grins, shaking his head.

“Agreed. Especially with the tiny mohawk. Probably stuck up all over the place.” I laugh softly, careful not to move or make too much noise.

Shiloh comes over and Soap makes space for her as she sighs with relief. “Thank god you got her down. We were a few minutes off from full screamin’.” Still, she smiles softly as she looks down at the little bundle.

“Why don’t you head up early tonight? The bearns’ll be looked after.” Soap encourages softly and the warmth in my chest only spreads when I recognize the same tone he used with me to get me to go to bed after a hard mission.

She smiles and sways into him. “You and my husband, I swear. But I know you’re just trying to get me away from G before I tell her what an idiot you were when you were younger.” Her hand musses his hair and he ducks away with a small groan.

“More of an idiot than now?” I ask with a brow lifting and Soap gives me a disapproving look that I grin at.

Shiloh nods. “Oh yeah. We once convinced him that we could all fly but him and he jumped off the roof to try and prove that he could too. Broke his arm.” She giggles while my eyes go wide and I choke while trying swallow my laughter. Soap sighs and tosses his arms in the air, subtly showing her his middle finger out of sight from his mother as he walks away.

The evening goes on and eventually I’m relieved of my babysitting duties only to find Simon across the room with a plastic screwdriver in his hand being instructed by one of the young boys. He’s utterly patient and seems to be taking his task quite seriously. I might snap a picture or two to show John later and for Simon to keep. I think he’d like having them.

Dinner is as raucous as I expected it to be, but I’m a bit more used to it now. The noise is joyous and the room is filled with loud voices and laughter. This isn’t something I’ve ever had and it helps to have Simon beside me as a steady, familiar anchor. But it’s nice. I like the way they argue with grins on their faces, how they laugh without restraint, how warm and welcoming everyone is.

Afterward, I manage to slip outside and I’m greeted by the cool night air. I hadn’t realized how hot the house had gotten with all the people inside. I pull out my phone as I sit on the front porch and call John, smiling when it only rings once before he picks up. “Hey, sugar. How’s it going?” Just the sound of his voice makes me feel a little fuzzy inside.

“It’s good. They’re a lot like I thought they’d be, but…more.”

He chuckles and I imagine him stretching out on his couch, leaned back against the cushions with his hands resting on his spread thighs. “That describes the MacTavish’s pretty well, I think. Never could do anything half-heartedly.”

“Mm. I haven’t been around a family like this in a long time. Since before I joined the military. It’s a little jarring being around so many kids all at once.” I lean against the step behind me, resting an elbow on the cold wood while staring up at the starry sky. It is beautiful out here.

“Simon said the same thing the first time he went.” He hums with amusement. “A bit less nicely though. Think it went something like ‘so many fuckin’ kids.’” We both chuckle while I nod. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“I like seeing him with them. He could use more playtime in his life.” I grin at the thought of buying him a little plastic toolkit to carry around with him. “I might’ve snuck a few pictures without him seeing.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t think you’re the only one.” There’s a little ding from my phone and I put him on speaker as I look at my messages. There’s a picture waiting there of me holding the baby, a soft smile on my face as I stare down at her. Soap is in the kitchen, so Simon must’ve taken it. Cheeky bastard. “Look pretty comfy in that picture, sugar.”

I smile and shrug as if he can see me. “Not sure if I’ve ever held a baby before. Don’t think I have and Soap was only using her as a reason to keep me sitting. But I liked holding her. I think I like it here, actually. Only thing missing is you.” My cheeks get a little hot when I realize what I said, but I only hear John’s soft hum of approval.

“Wish I was there too, sugar. But I like hearing that you’re enjoying yourself and getting some rest. It’s well-deserved.”

“You deserve rest too. Better not neglect yourself while I’m away.”

He laughs softly and I let the sound fill me with warmth. “Yes, ma’am. Call me again tomorrow?”

“I will. Night.”

“Night, sugar.”

We hang up and I stay outside for a few moments longer, breathing in the crisp air and appreciating the stars. It’s only when Soap comes to get me that I shuffle inside straight into a fire warmed blanket that Simon instantly swaddles me in before sitting me in an armchair close to the flickering fireplace. Yeah, I could really learn to like this place.

Tags (Hello, lovelies. As always, tell me if you'd like to be removed or if anyone else wants to be tagged on G and Price's story!)--

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova @ghostslillady @honeybeeznutz @00ops1e

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octuscle · 6 months

Note

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darling-i-read-it · 8 months

Text

Sorry

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: mw2 spoilers, spoilers for the new packs and online campaigns and things, (me knowing NOTHING about the military. I just be googling words. I am very sorry if they are wrong! I also didn’t play the online stuff so I had to read on that too. So much work for u philip), the reader leaving price and ghost behind technically, grief, heavy insinuation to smut, VIOLENCE like a lot. Reader kills people and has a mini extensional crisis about it, let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s Note: me: i’m so normal about him. Also me: writes a six thousand word fanfiction about my delusions

Summary: You and Phil had been together when he ‘died’ in the tank. You’ve been grieving him ever since, not knowing he was still out there.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When he was up in the air, sometimes Phil Graves thought about home. He thought about the way the air felt in the south. The heavy humidity of a late night around a fire with family and friends. His childhood home, a two story house with some land. The feeling of flannels over his shoulders, wind against his face when he rode the truck late at night, stupid country songs playing through the radio. He only let himself have these moments briefly. When he was up in the air and everyone was quiet with anticipation. No one wanted to talk about the moments before a descent, the seconds before disaster.

That was when he let himself think of home.

He thought of the world he used to call his own. He loved his job and he thought he was doing good with it. But sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened had he stayed back after high school, instead of hoping on the military like it was a moving train.

Whoever that was, he was gone now.

Shadow 0-1. Commander. That’s who he was now. That’s who he was always meant to be. That’s who he had been when he betrayed 141’s trust. That’s who he was when he got out of it. That’s who blew up in the tank in South America. That’s who misses you.

“You good boss?” Phil snapped out of his thoughts. He nodded once.

“Golden, Sparks. Thinking about dinner when we get back tonight.”

“You makin barbecue?”

“I sure am. Got a damn fine steak to cook.”

“You really oughta have more get-togethers, like old times.” Phil gave his subordinate a thin lipped smile. He fondly remembered the times when he would bring his closer soldiers around, cook for them, listen to shitty music, drink beers. In the back of his eyelids he could see you, handing him the tongs, making a joke about his dad barbeque. He would tease you about children.

He had stopped having them after the mission where he left some behind. He hadn’t wanted to; the strain in his voice was clear. But he had.

“Maybe when I’m legally back from the dead,” he countered. Sparks chuckled and Graves stood up. It was far better to be back in the commanding position with his guys, the same ones who would follow him into fire. It distracted him from the rest of it. The house he lost, the home he no longer had.

He had this.

You brushed your hair out of your face. You messed with the glass in your hand, rolling it around the ring on the wooden table. The ice had melted into the alcohol, making it watery and less effective. It was cold outside, fall finally taking hold. You were wearing a thin jacket that seemed useless.

This drink was Phil’s regular. You remembered it like the back of your hand, ordering it when he was caught up behind the crowds. It tasted like his lips after a long night out. It was warm, like his breath on your skin.

“You listinin’?” You lifted your head. You had been staring at your half drank glass. Simon Riley’s eyes met yours. They were objectively beautiful. You would never understand why he kept them mostly covered up.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought. What were you saying?”

“I was asking what you thought about Price going back out there so soon.”

“You of all people know what it’s like to be married to your work.”

“You aren’t irked he’s going without you?” His accent was thick. It was rare to get him to talk like this but you had known each other so long, it felt ormal now. He seemed unnatural when he clammed up in missions.

You shook your head.

“I’ll get back into it,” you told him. You cleared your throat. His eyes narrowed down, staring at you. His long face felt threatening, though you knew better. You stared back at him, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“How many times does Soap have to apologize for you to get over it?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head.

“Stuff it Simon.”

“I won’t. It’s been a year. We’ve given you your time, we’ve apologized, we’ve been nice and cordial about it. You need to realize who Graves was and that what happened to him was warranted. There’s only so many times we can spell it out for you before we stop babying you.” As he spoke, your head continued to shake. It felt like the words were rattling around in your brain, bouncing off your skull. He was right, you knew that. But the words still stung.

“You don’t understand,” you protested. He cut you off.

“I know I don’t. You’ve told me.” You leaned back in your chair, your glass landing with a light clang. “Love,” he muttered, leaning forward. “It’s time.”

You wished you could be done with it. You wished that his words could will all the pain to subside. You wished you didn’t have to suck it up when Soap followed Phil to the tank and blew it up. You wished you could forget about the moment you held your tongue, knowing that if you spoke up you would be a traitor too. You wished everything was different.

You didn’t want it to hurt anymore. You didn’t want to wake up and think he was next to you, even now. It got better as the time passed but it never fully went away. You knew it was never going to subside completely, always stuck to you like a stain you couldn’t get out.

“I’m trying,” you promised. “I’m trying.”

“You need to come to the next one.” Everytime you put on a headset you could hear Soap's words. Graves is KIA. How’s Price? He moved past it with such grace you almost missed it the first time.

“I’ll try.”

“You need to do more than that.” You swallowed hard.

“I know.” -

“I’m glad you’re here.” Price's voice was low but gentle. Careful. Like you were an object that would break if he spoke to you the wrong way.

“Me too,” you said, nodding. Your voice sounded fake and you knew it. You only agreed to this because you knew you had to. You had Price here and Ghost promised he would do all the heavy lifting. It would be nothing. The men you trusted would have your back when you flew out to enemy territory. “You didn’t have to lobby for me, you know.” You had become a liability the second Graves became a traitor. The already rocky relationship with the Shadows was broken clean in half. You were a problem now.

“I wanted to. You’re one of my best shooters.”

“Did Simon tell you to?”

“He gently nudged me.” He had his helmet on, the strap under his chin. It had been a while since you saw him in uniform.

“Where are we going again?”

“You should really read the debriefs.” You shrugged. You used to, religiously. You would tell Phil classified information like it was pillow talk. He would give it back to you after coffee in the morning. You cleared your throat.

“I do. I just trust you more than the papers,” you joked halfheartedly.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s all scouting, no shooting.”

“Why’re you bringing me and Ghost then?”

“I like hanging out with you guys.” You laughed, this time for real. He gestured forward. “Let’s head out.”

You could only see the blocks of land below you in the plane. You wondered who was living in the little houses the size of dots. You wondered if they were happy. You could feel the sweat piling in your uniform.

“There’s some guns held in a storage facility. They shouldn’t be heavily guarded but will be servilenced,” Price said. He spoke above the noise in the plane, loud and rumbling. “Ghost, you’ll go ahead. I’ll be down there outside the building, watching your six. Y/L/N, you’re up here on guns.”

“It’s boring up here,” you complained. “Can’t I come with you guys?”

“We need you on your A game to be on the ground,” Ghost said, coldly. You gave him a look but couldn’t read his expression with the mask. Price was avoiding your eyeline on purpose, you could feel it. It almost felt like a fake mission, something to get you back out there without putting you in real danger. Though you were vaguely insulted, it was nice to know they cared. You tried to shove your feelings aside.

“Alright,” you said finally. “Fine.”

“You’re good on guns,” Price said. “An Eagle eye will ensure everyone's safety.”

“I already said alright Price,” you said as gently as you could manage. The plane started to slow down to a hover. Price stood up, using the railing above to steady himself.

“You ready?” Simon questioned, coming up behind you as you stood up. You nodded once. Muscle memory would kick in before your panic would. Everything would be fine.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

Ghost gave you one last pat on the back before he walked towards the back of the plane. You watched him go, his hand on his side, looped around his belt. Price followed behind. He turned back to look at you, the wind rushing towards the front. You tried to keep your face neutral, professional. Your bones ached with familiarity. This was okay. This would be okay.

You turned towards the guns. The plane had a designated corner for them, buttons lining the walls. You zoomed in on the house that was holding the guns, turning it to infrared. You sat down at the chair, leaning over it. You didn’t need to put on all your gear to push some buttons but you refrained from complaining.

“You hear me clear up there?” Ghost’s voice came through your ear piece.

“Yes sir. Loud and clear.” You could see Ghost’s little figure as he landed. “I’m seeing two hostels outside of the building. On either side of the doors, they both have guns.” “Roger,” Ghost said. You followed his heat signature. Price had also made his way to the ground.

“What’s the house looking like?” he asked. You moved your camera along, narrowing in on the building. You could see men walking. Patrolling. You couldn’t help but wonder how many guns were being held there. The building was larger than Price made it seem. Were they in the heart of the building, with the clump of men?

“Lots,” you admitted.

“Give me a ballpark,” Price responded. You could see Ghost down there, taking out the men. He was always quick with it. Sometimes you forgot that the man you shared drinks with was a cold blooded murderer. You would not want to be at the other end of his knife.

“Ten upstairs. Can’t tell how many downstairs. Probably 20?”

“That’s quite a few people for some guns,” Ghost chimed in.

“No kidding,” you muttered. “I can see some on the balcony. I’m ready to hit whenever Cap.”

“Roger,” Price responded. You went to hone in, aiming just in case Ghost needed back up quicker than you could aim.

The plane jerked right, causing you to lose focus. You cursed, shutting one eye to get a clearer view. You painlessly lined it back up. Just as you had it, the plane jerked again.

“Hey man!” you called to the front. “Steady!”

“You seein this?” the pilot called. You turned back towards the infrared. Ghost hadn’t made it inside yet. You got out of your chair and pushed aside the door to the cockpit. Through the large window you could see another plane making its way towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How could someone know you were here?

“Enemy plane?” you asked.

“Not on any paths,” he admitted. “I’m willing to bet.” You quickly pivoted back towards the infrared.

“Hey boys, we got some company up here.”

“We need to secure this area,” Price said. His voice had gone rough. Professional now.

“If they’ve got more men, we aren’t securing shit,” you told him.

“I’m going through the downstairs,” Ghost added. With his voice you could hear gunshots and commotion. You cursed and sat back down.

“Do I have permission to shoot Price?”

“Yes,” he responded, quickly. You pushed down on the trigger, taking out the men on the balcony. They fell with ease. You looked back towards the cockpit. The plane was only getting closer. You could hear the pilot trying to contact it, like it was a civilian plane. The menacing figure loomed in the air.

“How much longer?” you asked.

“Five minutes,” Ghost responded.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “We don’t have five minutes.”

“Make five minutes.” You stood back up and went back to the cockpit. You put your hand on the chairs.

“It’s an AC-130,” the pilot called. “Military.”

“I’m going down,” you yelled. “Get me down there.” There was little protest from the pilot. You grabbed your gun off the chair. The back hatch lowered. The wind rushed towards you. The air was threatening with how fast it blew. It was like the whole world was going to be sucked into the plane.

You took a deep breath. Life or death. Your friends would die if you didn’t do something.

You turned back towards your safe spot in the plane. It looked more dangerous by the second. Each moment you hesitated was a moment wasted.

You turned back towards the entrance. You grabbed the leftover parachute and buckled it tightly.

And you jumped.

There was a moment of sheer panic. You forgot the reason you were in the air, you just knew you were freefalling. You were rushing towards the hard ground, towards the sound of gunfire. Everything felt fake for about ten seconds.

Then you pulled on the parachute line and drifted towards the ground.

“What’re you doing down here?!” Ghost said in your ear. You wondered if he could see you through the window.

“Helping!” you called back. Price was right. You were one of his best shooters, handicapped or not. You rushed forward, shielding yourself with a large rock. You looked down at the gun, the familiar feeling in your hand. You took a deep breath, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready. Then you turned around and started to shoot.

There was so much going on that it was almost simple. You couldn't focus on one thing so you tried to just breathe. Each shot was a breath. You didn’t think about how that was a person's life. Each shot a family member, a father, a sister. You forgot all of that as you focused on your breathing and your aiming.

“They’re deploying from the plane!” Price said in your ear. You still had no idea where he had gone.

“We should call for backup!” you said back. “Gaz’ll be here in twenty minutes!”

“Soap is closer,” Ghost said. He was in the house. You could tell by the amount of silence around him. He must have cleared the floor.

“Call someone!” you yelled. Price’s voice started to drone on but you didn’t pay much attention. You moved closer to the house, sticking close to cover. Blood was smearing your clothes now. How many people were here? How many people would come?

You looked up at the enemy plane. There had been a constant train of people but now they were slowly diminishing.

You came to a startled stop beside a body that had landed next to cover. You reloaded, your back against the wood, your eyes looking towards the body without thinking. Your head snapped back up but when it registered something familiar, it looked back at the body.

You kneeled all the way down. Your fingers brushed a Shadows patch, engraved on the lifeless soldiers' clothing. Your head started to blur. You hadn’t seen that symbol in months. Its patchwork was now smeared with blood, likely your doing. You ripped off the soldier's helmet.

You recognized him.

Sparks. He had come over for a barbecue. He helped Phil cook. The taste of brisket hit your tongue. The smell of a campfire.

You scampered onto the ground, almost falling over to get away from him. The sounds of gunfire started to muffle. Your breathing grew ragged. Was someone speaking? You held your gun tightly, like it was the only thing holding you to the ground. Was that Price’s voice? You looked around, the sun suddenly blaring. You should’ve come at night. There were clouds. How dare there be clouds when people were dying? You wanted Simon. You wanted Phil.

Someone came around your cover. You raised your gun, a fumble really. You raised it to the soldier in front of you, finger on the trigger, fully intending to shoot. The man in front of you had halted completely. His gun stayed on you, capable of killing you easily, but it remained. He had a helmet on. The glare of the sun covered his face.

Your hands were still shaking.

Suddenly things felt very quiet. A subtle movement of the soldier revealed a glimpse of his face. A face you knew very well.

It all flashed in your mind. His morning snoring, the shitty dad jokes, his guttural laughter. The sound of his truck starting. His mom’s phone number. The first thing you bought for your shared apartment. The taste of his lips. The feeling of his hands on your skin. HIs eyes in the moonlight. The feeling that you could never shake when he died.

He turned and ran. You stood up. You gathered your bearings and followed him, almost slipping on yourself to do so. He couldn’t get very far. People were shooting at you but you had him as a cover. You shoved him down and disarmed him. It usually wouldn’t have been easy to do. Maybe he let it happen. You pulled his collar so you could land behind a discarded car. He struggled against you as you ripped off his helmet completely, disconnecting whatever comm he was using.

His hands reached forward for yours and he took it off, not even bothering to unbuckle your chin strap. His touch felt like a ghosts. The same calloused hands that promised you the world. Your eyebrows furrowed, recognition in your eyes. You reached forward, not thinking. You cupped his face, your fingers sprawled on his cheek and neck.

“Phil?” you whispered. He couldn’t hear you over the commotion but he could read your lips. He knew what his name looked like coming from your mouth.

He didn’t know you were going to be here. If he had, he never would have come. He can’t do this, he can’t blow his cover like this. He had been told maybe Price would make an appearance but you had been out of the field since his death. He was breathing heavily. He couldn’t come near you because he would cave. It was hard enough being without you, checking his phone like you would text him.

“Y/L/N?! Y/N!” Your comm was going insane. It was on the ground though, forgotten.

He was alive. Phillip was alive. His face was there and it was moving, all flesh and blood. You never thought you would see him again except in pictures and videos, ones where you had memorized all his movements.

“Phillip Graves?”

“Yeah baby. Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like he was in disbelief too. You fought the tears rising to your eyes.

“How..how are you here?”

“Long story. “

“I wanna hear it.”

“Your men are shooting my men right now,” he said, like it was a minor inconvenience.

You snapped back into reality. Suddenly all the sounds became crystal clear again. Time resumed. You grabbed your comm and put it to your ear.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” you said.

“Come back with me,” Phil said quickly.

“What?” He grabbed your comm, putting it in his back pocket.. You reached for it like a child, even letting out a gentle unintentional whimper.

“Come back with me,” he repeated. “Get in my plane.”

“You’re dead. You died in a tank in South America!”

“You should know MacTavish couldn’t take me out.” He cupped your face with both his hands. You had never felt something so good. “Quickly. Yes or no.”

He dreaded a no. He knew Shepherd would have you killed or kidnapped. You couldn’t go back to your friends, knowing what you now knew. They could come up with a retaliation before Graves had even gotten on his feet again.

You had been waiting months for him to come back to you. The answer, despite your morals and your stress, seemed to slip off your tongue easily.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go with you.” He smiled, a genuine smile, covered in dirt and grime.

“C’mon baby. Follow me.” He put his comm back in his ear and grabbed your hand. He held it tightly, like you would slip away. “I’m going back up. How’re we lookin?”

“Significant casualties. The shooter on the edge is killing us.”

“I got her,” he responded. He looked back towards you and you both stood up. He nodded towards the plane, which still had the latter hanging down. “The guns?”

“The house is being defended. We haven’t been able to break through.”

“We can’t afford to lose those. Do what you have to.” He held your hand tightly, dragging you through the battlefield. You passed those that had died in the rubble. You wondered if you had been the cause. Your head was spinning, looking towards the house. You couldn’t even think yet, things were going so fast. All you knew was Phil and his hand in yours.

He grabbed your hips, helping you onto the first step of the ladder.

“I’m comin back up,” he said into his comm. “Someones ahead of me, foreign. Do not shoot. I repeat, do not shoot.” There was a muffled reply. He climbed all the way to the top with you, helping you up onto the plane floor. You pulled yourself up and stood in the middle of the hanger. There was barely anyone left up there. You looked towards the window.

Price. Simon.

You had left them. You hadnt’ meant to. You hadn’t even thought for longer than a moment about it. You put your hand flush against the glass, looking down. You wanted them to make it out okay. They would surely think you had died.

You hadn’t thought this through.

Your favorite ghost had returned and asked you to go to hell with him. You hadn’t even thought.

“Price. Ghost,” you said, quickly. You turned to Graves, panicked. “Let them go. Don’t hurt them.”

“I need those guns.” You had heard his work voice before, the slur between charming and serious. At that moment, his voice was all game. He was giving you an order.

“I need them to live.”

“They shouldn’t have come.”

“I came.” Phil pursed his lips, chewed the inside of his cheek. He looked towards the pilot and the men still in the plane. Your eyes were back out the front window, seeing the plane you had just come out of. You had just been there, standing in that cockpit. The feeling was eerie, tingling in the back of your neck. “Phil please.”

Graves thought for a moment. He looked towards you, your pleading puppy dog eyes. He could see you in the morning, when he said goodbye before work. He could see your back in the bathroom mirror, foggy from a shower. Your favorite cereal on his taste buds. The way you had your coffee.

“We’re losing numbers down here!” a voice came in his ear. He looked back down towards the house. Ghost was taking his men out one by one. Price was likely sneaking behind them, sniping from somewhere.

But Phil was a proud man. He wasn’t going to let those people die for no reason.

“Those men are dead down there,” he said, evenly. He approached you. His hand gripped your arm. “They can’t have died for nothing.”

“Let me call them off. Give me something to call them off,” you pleaded. He groaned in retaliation but gave you your comm back. You put it in your ear.

“I’m getting overwhelmed here!” Ghost exclaimed.

“Get out of there! Get out of there!” you said, desperately. You turned back to the window. “There’s too many of them. They keep coming.”

“She’s right,” Price said, voice gruff. “We need an exit. Soap is on his way.”

“To help?”

“Not enough manpower right now. We have to take this loss.” You could practically hear Ghost’s annoyance. He had done all this and it would’ve been for nothing? He groaned. You stood there, deathly still. “Get to the southside of the building,” Price demanded. “Both of you.” You looked back at Phil, who was staring eagerly. You nodded once. He patted your back, turning back to the pilot.

“Set up post.”

Some men made their way back up to the plane. Others stayed down below to hold down the fort. The ones you recognized starred as they passed you, sitting in the front seat, just behind Graves. He made no comment on you being there. Didn’t talk on the way back to base.

He knew he would have to face Shepherd about it. He just happened to figure he would win. Shepherd couldn't do shit with the Shadows until Graves got back. He was useful and he was a good soldier. Breaking this rule would be okay, he was sure of it.

You followed him onto the tarmac, your body close to him. The plane landed unceremoniously. People gently spoke about their win. Most mourned their losses. No one had managed to get it in their head that you had probably killed their best friend. Most everyone just ogled you in confusion.

“We’re going back to my room,” he explained. You wanted an explanation. You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream.

“Okay.”

He led you through the twisting turns of the facility. You had never been in the Shadows main buildings before. They were high tech and likely dangerous.

Graves opened the door to his room. It was larger than the others, for being the Commander. He didn’t have to sleep in bunks or share a room when he was on base. He had called you from this room dozens of times. The phone he used had been crushed, unable to receive anything. He missed it. It had all the pictures of the two of you.

The door clicked shut behind you. You wanted to fight him but in the moment, you could only melt. You wrapped your arms around him and he held onto you for dear life. His touch was fiery and aggressive. He was digging his fingers into your sides, breathing in the scent of your hair. He had missed you so much. More than he had been able to let on. He never wanted to live without you again.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered. You hadn’t realized the tears had steadily made their way back until you felt them on your cheeks. Graves had his face buried deep into your neck. “I mourned you.”

“I know baby,” he muttered against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He was crying. When was the last time you had seen him cry? He sniffled, though he tried to make it subtle. He pulled back, turning away to rub his eyes. You grabbed his shoulders, not letting him.

“What happened?” you asked quietly. Speaking any louder than a whisper seemed like a crime.

“Shepherd.”

“You weren’t in the tank?” He shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief, despite the horrors you had been through over the months you had believed he was in there. He grabbed your hand.

“I never wanted to leave you,” he promised. His eyes were red, stuffy. He wasn’t sobbing but there were clearly tears forcing their way through his hard exterior. “I did it because I thought it would keep you safe. It would keep you out of the way.”

“You’ve just been out there?” you asked, voice hinting of betrayal. It broke his heart.

“Missing you every second of every day.”

“Did you know where I was?”

“I wasn’t allowed on missions with you confirmed to be in it. It was supposed to be Price, maybe Ghost, maybe Soap today. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“I was a last minute addition.”

“And thank God for that.” His hands were staying on you, lingering. “Bringing you back was selfish,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t leave you again.”

“When they told me you were dead,” you started, swallowing your emotions. “I couldn’t eat for a week. Simon had to come force me. I had to pack up all your clothes in the closet, give them to your mother. I had to go to your funeral, the funeral of a federal traitor. I had to see the man who killed you everyday in the hallway,” you spilled. Your voice felt fluid. “I had to..I had to tell Price I was getting better when I wasn’t. I had your drink every time I went to the bar. I haven’t had barbeque in months. I had to go on shitty first dates with people Soap set me up with. I slept in your flannel. I..all my plants died.”

Phil’s voice was quiet. He was pleading, lips wet.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried to grab your hands. Ground you. You let him. You stared at him, breathing heavily, reliving every moment you had without him. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t…I can’t do that again.”

“Me neither. Trust me.” You both were still covered in blood and dirt. You could feel the grime between your fingers. You could see the muck on his face, his perfect face. You put your hand on his cheek.

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I swear to God,” he whispered.

And you kissed him.

And things had never felt so right.

His lips were frenzied, desperate. He had never tasted something so good in his life. You were all he had been craving, every moment of every day. His hands were practically shaking as he touched you. Long lost was his Commander front. He was just Phil.

You hadn’t been so desperate for him since you first had him. Your anguish pushed forward onto his skin, holding him as close as you could get him. He tasted like beer and cologne and dirt.

Phil turned you on your heels so he could sit down on the bed. You straddled him, hands cupping his face, running through his hair. You were both too bulky for this kind of making out. You hadn’t stripped of any gear, still wearing weapons of mass destruction. You pulled away, to verbalize this, but he spoke first.

“Baby I need you. I need you,” he breathed. He kissed you chastly. “Please don’t stop.”

He used to hold back his pleading. He thought it made him look weak in front of you, unattractive. But he couldn’t do it now, when his defenses had been long shattered.

“We need to take all this off,” you said. You looked down into his eyes. They were so beautiful and needy that it hurt your chest. You kissed his lips again, as a promise. “We gotta take off the grenades at least.” He chuckled. He had forgotten all about that. You brushed his hair back, out of his face. “Phil,” you muttered. “Philllip Graves,” you mumbled, a borderline moan. He groaned in need.

“Quickly. Quicker than that.” You laughed. It was the first time you had heard your laugh in months. It was genuine and filled with life. It felt good. You slid off him and started to strip.

He studied you with such intense eyes it felt like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

You almost couldn’t fall asleep. You traced his features with your gaze, even with his closed eyes. The scar on his cheek. You traced it lightly with your finger. His hair was still wet from the shower. You had both slipped and slid around the bathroom, limbs remaining intertwined. He had made it a point to always be starring or always be touching. You were his. You would never be anyone else's.

He had an arm lazily around your side. You had so much to worry about, so much to do. Were you technically behind enemy lines? What would happen when you woke up in the morning?

Phillip groaned and pulled you closer, smushing you against his chest.

“Woah there cowboy,” you whispered. He smiled, eyes still closed.

“You remember when you used to take my hat?” he asked fondly. You did. The cowboy hat rule. If you wear his hat, you ride the cowboy. You giggled, nodding against the pillow.

“I do.”

“We should do that again.”

“We can do whatever you want,” you told him. “Whatever you want.” He nodded.

“Go to sleep. I’ll figure it out in the mornin.” He put his chin on your head. “I got you.” You believed him.

You hadn’t had such a good sleep since he died, exhaustion over taking your body and forcing you into darkness.

#call of duty fanfiction #phillip graves x reader #Phillip graves imagines #Phillip graves x fem!reader

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hornystiel · 2 years

Text

for @justcastiel 's 2k celebration

prompts: smoke + yeehaw + light

1,6k. this one is explicit guys

Not to corrupt a falling angel even further, but somehow Dean finds himself in a dimly lit motel room alone with Castiel, offering him a cigarette.

It goes like this. They went to some cowboy-themed bar, some of the monsters there yeed their last haws, Dean’s got a shiner for his troubles and Cas keeps asking him how a cowgirl can be ‘reverse’. A typical evening.

Gradually losing his grace and wings must suck enormous balls, but at least Cas got some disappointment out of his system by beating up those poor bastards, and now they are both fuzzily relaxed back at their shitty room. Still, Cas offered to heal him, when Dean took the shirt off and plopped on the tiny squeaky bed, rummaging in his bag for a smoke, but the feeling of aching muscles, a few scratches and a cigarette in his teeth feels like home to Dean so, no, no healing.

Cas keeps looking at the cigarette with such undivided attention that Dean can’t help but ask “you wanna try one?”

And who’s Cas if not somebody who’s taking the apples from the Eden’s garden for Dean to make a pie.

There’s just one left in a pack and Dean chuckles a bit, thinking about some kind of fucked up destiny games there, because if not god then something even weirder should be looking after them. Or laughing at them. At this point it’s all the same.

Cas sits beside him, the lighter clicks and Dean shows how to inhale smoke, Cas diligently repeats after him and coughs. That makes Dean laugh maybe harder than necessary but, holy shit, they are sitting in this shitty room after a brawl in a cowboy bar and he’s teaching a billion-year-old creature how to smoke a cheap cig. And he fucking coughs. The laughter is a bit bitter, like smoke, because coughing is such a human thing, after all.

Then it dies completely on his lips when Cas, being a good student as usual, does everything right the second time and exhales, looking up, his eyes glowing slightly. That looks unfairly hot and Dean moves closer without thinking, drawn. His brain is still rebooting because, after a few quiet moments of just watching Cas smoke and flick the ash into the ashtray, the first thing out of his mouth is “let me show you how to shotgun”.

Cas finishes his cigarette, puts it out and looks quizzically at Dean. Because of course he does, Dean’s being an idiot but it’s too late to back out, so he might as well add more depraved behavior to the mix. He moves closer again, and if Cas wasn’t that new to sarcasm and bitchy comebacks - he would’ve reminded Dean about his precious personal space now. But they are both too distracted, staring into each other’s eyes, the air around turning thick, and that has nothing to do with cigarette smoke.

Finally, Dean unfreezes and instructs Cas to close his eyes and open his mouth. Cas is about to argue but at the last moment huffs and does as told. Something’s telling Dean that this is a very rare occasion and he’s mentally puffing up with pride. Dean inhales the smoke of his smoldering cigarette, leans in and slowly exhales into Cas’ open mouth. Only, the thing is, the instructions lacked one crucial point. What to do next.

So this is how their first kiss happens.

Cas just inhales and closes the remaining distance, gently brushing his lips against Dean’s, sharing the smoke, and Dean’s been too hungry for too long to deny himself anymore. They start a bit awkward, uncertain maybe, learning each other’s touches, scratchy stubble, searching hands. Dean’s not sure how much experience with that kind of thing Cas has (he gets irrationally jealous every time he remembers the strip club, that’s why he still doesn’t know what exactly happened there besides the holy lecture), so he doesn’t rush, head still a touch foggy.

Then Cas lets out a quiet uncertain moan, as if he's not sure he's allowed to be affected this much, and that sound is the beginning of the end. He wants to hear it again, he wants to know all the sounds Cas can make when they are making out, he wants to undress him and touch skin, he wants to be touched in return. He knows he’s not allowed to want, let alone so much, but right now he doesn’t fucking care. The remaining cigarette bud burns his fingers, going out, but it has nothing on the burning inside him.

He sucks on Cas’ tongue and the next moan is louder, Cas’ hands coming up to grip his waist tight, and the fog in his head swirls into a hurricane, and they both will be swept. Today is the day of great decisions for Dean, apparently, because his next move is to straddle Cas and shove himself into him as close as possible. Cas goes with it without a word, readjusting his grip on Dean and kissing him hard. It's still a bit sloppy, but Dean loves it even more because of it.

Dean knows a few new things about Cas now. He knows that Cas is a biter, because he keeps nipping his lips, his jaw, neck, collarbone, carefully avoiding the bruises and scratches (he wants to punch him for it because the alternative is to cry). Dean also knows that Cas likes when Dean touches his hair, tugging a bit, because he makes soft growling sounds every time Dean does it. He knows that Cas is not shy (as if he ever was), because once he understands that Dean is in no way against being touched and groped (if he listened to his thoughts now all that’ll be here is pleasepleasplease), he slides his huge fucking hands to Dean’s ass and grinds against it, just taking. Oh and Dean also knows now what Cas’ dick feels like, pressed against him. They are not even bothering with the clothes, Dean thinks he might pass out if he spares even one moment away from being glued to Cas. Besides, it’s not like he’s not on the verge of coming already. It would’ve been embarrassing if Dean cared in the slightest. Fortunately, instead of caring he's moving sinuously on top of his personal demise, mouth opened slightly, panting and whining, because, fuck, it feels so good and he feels so alive and finally in his skin, he can't possibly stop.

Cas is sweating and Dean thinks he hears a stray “fuck” from his lips, which throws him for a loop, but then Cas says “Dean” in his damn rough voice, breathless, and, yeah, Dean's done. He grips Cas' neck, groaning somewhere into his shoulder, hips snapping hard and fast, riding out the orgasm like a man on a mission. He hears Cas' sharp intake of breath and feels his hands petting his thighs gently, lips kissing his temple, and, jesus fucking christ, he's not done coming, he can't process these touches without a tiny heaving sob.

They stay like this for a few more seconds, Dean coming down from the high and Cas just holding him. Ironically, this is too much for Dean to handle, so he changes lanes as quickly as possible and shoves his hand into Cas' pants. It's Cas' turn to grip him for dear life again, pushing his face into Dean's chest and moaning brokenly. Dean strokes him with ease because Cas is wet, wetter than he expected, and his own cock gives a twitch at that clear indication of how much Cas is enjoying it. It's been a while since he jerked someone else off, but it's not like Cas has a wide range of dudes who did it for him before to compare, so they are good. More than good really, because Cas is so responsive to everything Dean does that his hips occasionally lift off the bed a little and Dean's glad he's still gripping Cas' neck with one hand because otherwise he'd end up on the floor by now. Yee-haw or something. And then Cas slaps his hand on the handprint on Dean's shoulder, chokes on a moan and comes.

Dean feels on fire. The hurricane finally swallowed him and is tossing his insides around the walls of his body like it pleases. His shoulder burns, his chest burns, his eyes see nothing but a white light. Through the noise in his ears he hears a flutter and his hand blindly goes to Cas' back and, yes, something soft and electric meets his touch. It's shivering as Dean pets the feathers, some bits are missing, but Dean is sure Cas is still beautiful. Then the feeling is gone and the burn softens. It's like a warm midday sun, cradling him, soothing. His vision returns but there's no light around except for the glow of the neon sign far down the street and Cas' eyes, that are peering apologetically into Dean's very soul.

Cas fucking blew all the lights out. And in the meantime healed all of Dean's injuries. Scratch that, Dean thinks he's healed some of his old injuries too, judging by the way his joints and ribs don't feel any discomfort anymore. Everything except the handprint. This fucking angel will be the death of him.

Dean leans in and pecks Cas on the lips, letting him know that it's okay, he's not mad or anything. He may be falling in love even faster now, but eh.

They don't let go of each other for a long time after it, just existing calmly in each other's arms. And when Dean finally gets up to go take a shower, Cas evidently not leaving his room tonight, he completes the day by saying -

"So, do you wanna know more about the reverse cowgirl next time?"

Cas chuckles and goes to join him in the shower.

#hello elliot and congrats again!#also this one doesn't show up in the tags no matter what i do so yeah #we die like men #destiel #destiel ficlet #deancas #deancas ficlet #justcastiel2k #spn #mdni #thisisapaige #spxcekya #becauseofthebowties #usermoogs #deancaskiss #hashtag writing

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addsalwayssick · 2 days

Text

Marauders Night At the Museum Au part 1

Remus pressed his lips into a line a quirked his eyebrow. James, on the other hand, smiled. “Thank you, sir.” James said, patting his back.

“You start tonight. There are rules in the cabinet.” Albus said, waving them out of his office door for the night.

Albus soon packed up, leaving both Remus and James behind in the sunset.

Remus pulled out a book, starting to read. “You’re so boring. We should be exploring.” James sighed, spinning around in a spinny chair.

Remus rolled his eyes. The sunset drew to a close, as a curtain of darkness fell upon them. James, now sleeping in a chair, only awoke when Remus screamed. Now, James was expecting a robber, or a burglar or something. What he was not expecting was a skeleton dog trying to get behind the circular desk that James and Remus were sat at. James was wide awake now. “Holy crap! What do we do?” James yelps.

“Get the rules!” Remus says, his voice rushed.

James tries to open the cabinet Albus said it would be in, failing to. “It’s locked!” James said.

“Try again!” Remus shouted.

“I can’t!”

They heard a piercing whistle throughout the museum, and everything stopped. A man wearing tight pants, and a complicated top came out. The skeleton dog rushed to him, sitting by his side. “What are we doing chasing the new night guards?” He asked the dog. The man was gorgeous. With his long dark hair, eyes silver yet warm, and a smile radiating through the cold air of the museum.

Remus thought he was beautiful. Remus had never thought of anyone like that. “Who are you?” Remus said, coming to his senses.

“I am Prince Sirius Orion Black the lll of France. Well, previously I suppose. It is…2024, non? Well I was disowned in 1775, so I suppose that’s that. I was killed in 1780, though, so it didn’t matter.” He said, his black hair swishing elegantly, despite his sad story.

“Are you alone?” Remus asked carefully, his mind swimming with questions. “Are you real?”

Sirius laughed. “No, i’m not alone. I have my brother Regulus. He got disowned and guillotined in the same day. He technically died before me. Only by a month, though. And no, i’m not real. I’m made of wax.”

“Where is Regulus?” James found himself clearing his throat and asking.

“Well he got sent out for enjoying men’s company and guillotined for having no desire to be a woman, so most likely changing. They’re awful here, they put him in a corset every day. He changes, every night though.” Sirius told them.

Remus and James’s mouths dropped. At the stunned silence, Sirius groans. “Please don’t tell me you don’t like the fact we prefer men over ladies. Ladies are lovely, I just don’t like them. The last night guards were like that and-“

“You like men too?” Remus chokes out.

Sirius nods carefully. Remus gets up out of his seat, patting Sirius in the back. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise James and I don’t care. I’m bisexual and James is Pan”

Sirius furrows his eyebrows. “You speak two languages? As do I. What does that have to do with anything. And James is a pan? He doesn’t look like one.”

Remus laughs. “I like men and woman. James likes everyone.”

Sirius frowns. “Oh. That’s nice. So what am I called?”

“You just like men, right?” Remus asks, taking him to the seats. The dog follows. Sirius nods. “Then you’re gay, probably.”

“Gay? As in happy? Well, I suppose I am happy with men.” Sirius thinks aloud.

Remus laughs, brushing his hair out of his face.

James, on the other hand, is nearly banging his head against the desk. He truly didn’t think life could get any crazier after his boyfriend of 2 years broke up with him, kicking him out, with no job. But of course, wax statues, skeleton dogs, animals, and is that a talking statue of George Washington? are coming alive. James was not having the best time. He was happy his best friend, Remus, finally met someone (even if it was a wax statue) and thought that was awesome, except for the fact they were talking wax statues that are now alive. Wasn’t Remus supposed to be the logical one?

But then again, all his logic apparently flew away when a man walked down the stairs with James’s clothes on. James coughed. “Those are my clothes.”

The man turned to him and frowned. “Hm. Sorry. Yours must have been the locker I nestled into. I have to steal these clothes you see, because apparently committing so called treason and getting executed isn’t enough for me to be put in men’s clothes.”

“Oh, no! It’s totally okay, just a bit of a shock. Considering it had my name on the back and things.” James choked.

James had walked in wearing a spider-man t-shirt, black jeans, and a letterman jacket from high school that said ‘Potter 03’ on it. He had to change into his uniform, so the clothes went into the locker.

It seemed wrong that someone as elegant as this man before him was wearing something so casual. He looked as if he belonged in a painting.

He smiled. “Thank you then.”

“Are you Regulus?” James asks, fascinated by this new man.

Regulus nods. “I suppose Sirius had told you our entire life story?” James nods. “Thought so.” When James looked confused, Regulus sighs. “He tells everyone.”

i haven’t posted any writing in literally forever so have this unfinished scrap xx

#james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #jegulus #sirius #sirius x lupin #wolfstar #regulus and evan and barty #sirius and regulus #remus and regulus #regulus black #grahhh #dies #cries #sobs #addie writes

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

Note

I need more best friend Chrissy for my soul 🥺

Hiii babes!! Well I hope this makes your soul happy lol enjoy some more bff Chrissy talking with you about you’re new relationship with Eddie!💖

*You and Chrissy talk about everything…including Eddie’s hair care routine*

“Do I have to schedule our movie nights like a month in advance now?” “Don’t be so dramatic Chrissy you know I’d drop Eddie’s ass like a hot potato if you called and needed me.” “I’m going to test that out one day.” “I’d appreciate it if you did it on a Thursday night…maybe like…six or seven?” “What happens on Thursdays that you wouldn’t mind skipping out on?” “Band practice…” “I thought you said Eddie was great on the guitar? Something about his skilled fingers?” “I mean yeah the man has great…fingering skills..but-” “i don’t need to hear anything else about it please spare me the details.” “Like I was saying…half the time it’s practice but then mostly it’s like a mini hellfire meeting and I just wouldn’t mind missing a few practices here and there…” “why don’t you just go home if you don’t wanna watch him practice?” “Because I like to look at him…” “you’re so in love it’s gross.” “I know…I’ve got it bad…”

“He put a chapstick in every single one of my purses because he doesn’t want my lips to get cracked and gross since it’s starting to get cold outside…” “marry him.” “That’s not like…normal boyfriend behavior is it?” “I mean…neither of us have the best track record with who we’ve dated so I feel like Eddie is normal we just aren’t used to it?” “He got up early this morning and made me coffee and packed a lunch for me to take to work…I don’t know how to handle how nice he is sometimes.” “That’s understandable and he knows you’re history with men so…just let him love you the way you deserve.” “That’s the thing though…I don’t feel like I deserve him? Like he deserves someone so much better than me.” “We aren’t going down this road okay babes? You deserve to be treated like a fucking Queen and Edward Munson knows that…it’s why he treats you the way he does and there’s no getting better than you. You’re a fucking catch.” “You’re just saying that because you’re my bestfriend Chrissy.” “No as your bestfriend I’m the one who tells you the truth and that’s the truth…you deserve Eddie and he deserves you.” “If you say so..” “now the important question is…what did he pack you for lunch?”

“You’re fucking with me.” “I swear he doesn’t brush it.” “What’s he do then? Just run his fingers through it?” “He gets out of the shower and towels it for a few seconds and then shakes his head and that’s it.” “I don’t believe you.” “Chrissy I swear that’s how the man does his hair…trust me the first time I saw him do it I died a little inside.” “So…he’s never brushed it?” “He brushes it when it’s dry…” “no…no…why do you let him do that?” “His hair is his thing…I’ve tried to get him to let me show him how to properly deal with his curly hair but he refuses.” “He needs a hair intervention.” “The most he will do is let me put a conditioning mask on it but even then he only has the patience to leave it on for five minutes.” “He’s so annoying.” “He really is…thank god he’s cute.”

“He told me he loved me.” “Oh my god shut up.” “He said it like it was the most natural shit he could ever say and I just stood there in the middle of the frozen section of the mini mart like an idiot.” “He said it in the frozen food section? Is that like..a special place for you two?” “No…he grabbed my favorite ice cream and said and I quote..you may have questionable taste in ice cream flavors but I still love you….” “Uh everyone loves cookies and cream? He’s the weird one in this situation.” “Right? Like he likes rocky road…that shits gross.” “So…did you say it back?” “I did…I kinda shouted it because I was worried I had paused for too long and didn’t want him to take it back so yeah I just kinda yelled it at him…” “i mean it’s better than not saying it back?” “I agree and he only laughed for like a few seconds before he kissed me.” “In the middle of the frozen section of the mini mart?” “I mean the man told me he loved me I couldn’t like not let him kiss me?” “That’s true…” “so I guess…the ice cream section is kinda a special spot for us now?” “You two are the oddest couple I’ve ever met…”

#chrissy cunningham #bff Chrissy #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #chrissy x reader #Chrissy Cunningham fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you fluff #Eddie munson #eddie munson request #eddie munson concept #my little dungeon master baby

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renaiswriting · 8 months

Text

Baci di Luna (part 4)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary:

Saying I love you was never easy.

Having to say it in a language that wasn't yours was not easy either.

Imagine the struggle of that, and now add it to loving someone whose family thinks you're a monster.

It can't be easy at all.

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of wounds.

Word count: +4.8k words.

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"Where are you going? Arianna asked, dropping herself on top of your bed. You send her a quick glance, finishing packing your bag. "I'm so annoiato."

"Why don't you go and ask Noah to play or something if you're so bored? You asked your sister. You took out two different jackets from your closet, trying to decide which would look better, the red or the black one.

"I already asked him; he told me he was going to be studying all day. Mom was mad because he couldn't remember how to say riordiner la mia stanza, so she sent him to study."

You chuckled, shaking your head at your brother's antics. You finally choose the red one, liking the way the color of the jacket pops up with the rest of your outfit.

"He said rider nella mia stanza instead; can you believe it? Arianna shook her head, a teasing grin on her face.

"Why are you smiling that big when last week you said per favore, passami il sole instead of per favore, passami il sale?"

"How was I supposed to know that sole meant sun and not salt? They sound the exact same!"

"No, they don't." You replied, raising your eyebrows.

Arianna quickly erased the smile on her face, her cheeks turning a subtle shade of red as she looked away, knowing that out of you three, you were the only one that actually could speak Italian.

"You didn't reply to my first question." Arianna remembered you again, behind tight teeth.

"I'm going on a walk; we have been here for some time now, but I barely know the town. The forest seems so pretty."

"Mom will kill you if you go there alone; she said people reported big creatures coming from there."

"Big creatures?" You asked cautiously, suddenly not so sure about the trip you were planning. "What types of creatures?"

"I don't know; they say there are these big creatures; that's all I know. Mom says it is the Lupo Mannaro."

You rolled your eyes, now slightly more relaxed. "Mom always says there's a Lupo Mannaro." Remember when we were young and refused to brush our teeth? She always said that the Lupo Mannaro would come and eat us.

"How to forget? I think I might have "Se non metti in ordine la tua stanza, il lupo mannaro potrebbe venire a trovarti!" tattooed on my brain."

You chuckled; that was probably one of the few phrases Arianna could say fluently.

"The only reason I want to have kids is to tell them to tidy their rooms, or else the werewolf would come and visit them as well. You know, passing the trauma to new generations." Arianna joked.

"But seriously," Arianna's expression turned serious, "I don't think you should go there alone. Lupo Mannaro or not, it can be really dangerous going into such a place. You never know what could be there. Or who could be there?

"I won't take long, I promise. But you can tag alone if it makes you feel less stressed." You invited her.

Arianna stood up with more excitement than she pretended, trying to act bored, but the sparkle in her eyes for going on an adventure with her big sister definitely gave it away.

You hid your smile behind a fake cough, knowing that Arianna hated to be put on the spot. It had been a while since the last time you both had some sister time, and you were not going to ruin it with just some giggles.

"Bring a jacket; it's cold outside." You told her before walking towards the kitchen, where your mom was preparing something to eat and your younger brother was sitting studying, just like Arianna had told you.

"Mamma, io e Arianna andiamo a fare un giro, a che ora si mangia?" You asked your mom; dinner and lunch time were a tradition, and there was no way any of you would get away with wandering outside and missing it.

"Tra un'ora." Your mom informed you, and it was perfect; you just needed an hour anyway. "No, Noah, non guardarla cos. Non te ne vai, non ti muovi da qui finché non sai dirmi una frase di più di cinque parole in italiano, capito?"

By the look on Noah's face, you could easily tell he had not a single clue about the instructions her mother had given him, and by the time you and Arianna would be back, the only five-word sentence he would be able to say in Italian would be "I am Noah Giovanni Bianchi Smith."

Noah's pleading eyes followed you until you moved all the way from the kitchen to the living room, and it honestly broke your heart. You would have taken him with you and Arianna, but the last thing you wanted was to get into a fight with your mom; she was really passionate when it came to Italian, and, if you were honest, you totally understood where she was coming from.

Both Arianna and Noah were at the same level as a five-year-old native speaker; the extra study time would do nothing but benefit him in learning a language.

"I'll bring you a pretty rock if I see one." You promised him that Noah had a big collection of rocks. They were all different, some more shiny than others.

This seemed to cheer him up, because he went back to his notebook with a small smile on his face.

"So from where do we start?" Arianna asked, and once you both were outside, you waited until you were far enough from the house to reply.

"We can walk past the Loco Thud's butcher shop. and go straight from there; I think the path is clear there, so we would avoid getting lost, not that we are going to." You rushed to add it after seeing the scared expression on Arianna's face. "But you know, just to make sure we get back home before dinner's ready."

Arianna nodded, walking right next to you, not wanting to fall behind your quick pace.

"I've never been here." Arianna mumbled, looking at the big trees that were forming a wall that divided the town from the wild.

"Me neither," you replied, but, unlike Arianna, the excitement could be heard in your voice.

"I think I have never seen so much green before; that leaf is the same size as my head!" Arianna quickly ran towards it to pick it up and show you. She was right; the leaf covered Arianna's face completely. She admired the leaf for a while before carefully putting it inside her pocket. It was not dry, so it stood there perfectly without breaking.

You both continued walking, enjoying the silence and, occasionally, the sounds of birds singing as they flew above the tall trees.

You liked the sound your shoes made whenever you walked over a dry leaf, crushing it as soon as your weight was on it.

You closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and letting your lungs fill in with such pure air.

You could get used to this.

You could picture yourself having a small house in the forest.

You would never get sick of this view or of this feeling.

"Mom was talking about going back to Italy this summer for a week." Arianna broke the silence. "She said her aunt is not doing so well, so she wants to pay her a little visit. I think that's why she's so stressed out lately about Noah and me learning and practicing our Italian."

"That could be, yeah." You nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "It is important for her; it's her native language."

"I know, I just don't get why she is so pressed about it; it's not like we need it here."

"She wants us to be able to understand her and speak to her in a language that she is completely able to express herself in. She is already far away from her home, and the last thing she wants is for her kids to not be able to understand her. Also, all of her side of the family only speaks Italian."

Arianna kept silent, the frown on her forehead still quite present. You called her, but she didn't hear you; she was too deep in her own thoughts.

You let her be, asking for a better look at the green view that was surrounding you both.

Arianna kept kicking a rock until you both started hearing something.

Water.

It wasn't really a surprise, since the closer you looked there, the darker the mud was and the greener the plants and trees were.

It was to be expected to have some sort of water source there.

So taking Arianna's arm with your hand, you rushed her to run towards that sound, coming face to face with a beautiful lake.

The water was running so far to the end of it that you could not see it from where you both were standing.

"Come, I promised Noah that we would get him a rock."

Noah has found multiple beautiful rocks on other lakes and rivers.

One of his favorites had been found on a beach your family had decided to go to for five minutes, just to get some quick help with the hot weather and keep on with your day.

It didn't seem too deep, at least not where you were looking, so, as carefully as possible, you dipped your hand, cringing at the freezing feeling.

Even when you lifted your jacket and your shirt to avoid getting them all wet, they all slid down your arm, getting them as wet as if you were swimming.

You started moving your hand without really looking, hoping to bump into a rock that would be magically the most beautiful rock you have ever seen.

But instead, you felt something sharp cutting the skin covering one of your fingers.

You shank your hand back from the surface, biting your lower lip to avoid cursing while inspecting it.

"Cazzo!" You cried, the swear scaping from between your lips when the blood started coming out of the wound.

Arianna's head snapped at the curse you had said, because from the limited list of Italian words she knew, fuck was one of them.

"Are you alright?" Arianna rushed to see with her own eyes what had happened, but your hold on your fist was stronger, you felt as if you let go of the presiom on your hand, the pain will come back.

Arianna's eyes opened even wider once she got a little glimpse of the red coming from in between your hands.

"Oh no!"

In Arianna's desperation to check on your finger wound and yours to keep Arianna from touching it, your younger sister's hands accidentally touched the open skin. Almost instinctively, you jerked backwards, trying to get away from whatever had caused the pain.

Luckily, Arianna's reflexes were quicker than yours, which saved you from falling backward into the icy water of the lake behind you.

"Are you out of your mind? Arianna asked somewhat angrily. "Watch where you're going! You could have fallen and hurt your head on whatever cut off your finger!"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." You mumbled between puffs of air to try to calm the erratic heart that kept pounding loudly against your chest. "Should I stick my finger in the lake?"

"I don't know." Arianna replied doubtfully. "Don't you think it might attract some aquatic animals?"

"Like what, a shark?" you joked, trying to wipe the very serious expression off Arianna's face.

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously not; I'm not stupid, but we don't know what kinds of creatures might be here." Arianna set about inspecting the depths of the lake closely. Occasionally, some fish no bigger than half the size of Arianna's pinky would swim happily by. "Besides, we don't know how clean this water might be. I think we'd better head home; it's getting late anyway."

"But we haven't been here more than twenty minutes!" you protested. "I promised Noah a rock; at least let me find some for him."

"Noah's just a kid; grab some leaves on the road, and he'll be just as happy as he is with a rock."

"It doesn't matter. The poor kid had to stay in to study all day. If a shiny rock makes him happy, then how bad is it to find him one? Come on, if I haven't dropped my finger so far, I won't drop it by spending another ten minutes here." You laughed. While it burned pretty badly, it was only a small cut. You doubted it would even leave a scar.

Arianna pointed her index finger in your face, looking at you seriously. For a few seconds, you could see her face transform into one similar to your mother's. You could finally see the similarities that so many people said they saw between Arianna and your mother.

"With the first rock you find, we leave. I don't care if it's a dull color or if it's too small. We're leaving. Got it?"

And so it was that for about five minutes you were crouched on the ground, looking for the first rock you could take with you back home.

Every time you found one you didn't like, you looked carefully at Arianna to make sure she wasn't paying attention to you before throwing it in the lake so you could spend more time looking for a better one.

"For God's sake." Arianna complained, putting her muddy hands on her knees so she could stand up. "How could there not be a single rock in the middle of a forest?" Arianna sighed in annoyance. "I'm going to look further," she said, pointing her finger at a tree that couldn't be more than five meters away. "Surely that's where there will be rocks."

You didn't answer her, but she walked away to the place she had indicated anyway.

You were too focused on trying to find something your little brother might like.

"Do you think Noah will like this tree stick— Oh my god!" Arianna cut herself off mid-sentence with a scream of terror escaping her throat as she had been rolling over to stand up. In a leap, she was at your side, gripping your arm so tightly that you yourself had to omit a cry of pain to understand what was really happening.

Your eyes quickly found the figure of a tall, muscular person approaching you through the trees, with both hands raised in the air as a sign that he was not coming to cause any crime and a confused look on his face.

You felt the tension drain from your shoulders as Seungcheol finally stepped out from behind the wall of trees.

"Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack." You sighed in relief, bringing the hand with the cut on your finger to your heart. The fabric of your jacket brushed against the wound, and this caused a bit of discomfort. Your face transforms from a relieved smile to a momentary expression of pain.

Seungcheol's eyes quickly widened in a comically large way. It hadn't been until that instant that you realized how round they were. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice sounding quite concerned. Taking large strides, he reached your side in a matter of seconds, and his warm hands were taking yours, drawing the injured finger up until it was close to his face and inspecting it well. "How did you do this to yourself?"

You shook your head in response, trying to wipe away the worried expression on Seungcheol's face and bring some sense to your thoughts that were making your cheeks flush at the attention received. "I was looking for a rock in the lake for my brother. It was a silly thing to do. Really."

You smiled at him.

His eyes were watching your face carefully, trying to look for any sign that you were in any kind of pain.

His eyes sparkled with the smile you sent him, and his lips quickly returned the gesture.

His thick fingers began to massage the area carefully, trying to help the pain go away.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I don't know if I'm well enough to get the cornettos ready for tomorrow morning." You sighed, feigning sadness. You knew Seungcheol was going to be first thing in the morning on the other side of your family's bakery, ready to buy his daily amount of cornettos. He had been doing it for weeks already. "But I'll survive." You finished joking.

"Don't worry, she's always this dumb, actually." Your sister added that, besides you, she has taken quite a few steps back when Seungcheol approached you and had been quiet until that second, making you almost forget she was there.

Your cheeks turned red once she spoke, and you didn't have it in yourself to look at her in the eyes because you just knew she would have that teasing, knowing it all look on her face.

"I'm Arianna." Your sister introduced herself, taking a few small steps forward and confidently extending her hand. "The younger sister of (y/n)."

Seungcheol chuckled at Arianna's attitude, accepting her hand between his. "I'm Seungcheol; nice to meet you."

"Ah yes, the person in charge of keeping the family business running—the pleasure is all mine." Your sister smiled, pleased with herself, when she noticed the slight blush on Seungcheol's face.

"What were you doing in the forest?" You decided to ask, moving on from the awkward questions. Seungcheol seemed to be mentally grateful because his back was once again proudly erect.

"I was on my way home until I thought I heard voices here and noises in the lake."

"Noises in the— (y/n)! That's why we weren't finding any rocks, isn't it?" Your sister asked madly, her eyes fiercely piercing into yours.

You ducked closer to Seungcheol unconsciously, trying to hide from Arianna. She could be so scary when she was mad.

"I probably heard wrong." Seungcheol took it back.

"Nah-uh, surely you didn't. I've known my sister since I was born." Arianna shook her head, her eyes never leaving your figure. It was clear she was somewhat annoyed.

"We should have your finger looked at; it could be dangerous if left unattended. One of my brothers got infected with a special kind of rock and almost ended up poisoned."

This clearly put you in a state of alert, and concern quickly ran to your face, ridding it of any trace of color.

"But if you just had it cut off, we can probably treat it in time." Seungcheol assured you, trying to calm you down. His hands traveled to the light jacket he was carrying over his shoulders, taking it and placing it over yours, trying to get the fabric to cover, especially the parts of your wet jacket.

"My home is nearby." Seungcheol commented. "One of my brothers knows how to heal and what plants to use for injuries."

"It's already getting late, we should head home." Arianna said to you, sending you a particular look.

"I'll just be five minutes, I'll walk you both home after I finish examining that finger." Seungcheol promised. "I just want to make sure it's nothing dangerous." Seungcheol said to both of them, his eyes didn't take off from your injured finger, there were still some traces of dried blood.

"How far is it to your house?" You asked.

"It's that way." Seungcheol pointed to the right, "It's about five minutes from here."

"Five minutes?" You ask, glancing at Arianna to see if she agreed.

"If Mom gets mad at us for being late for dinner, it's your fault." She replied with a shrug, following Seungcheol from behind.

"So do you have many siblings?" You asked Seungcheol, who was walking slowly beside you. Not hurrying.

"Twelve." He answered calmly.

"What?" you asked, not wanting to sound like you were judging him, but your tone of voice came something like that out of your mouth.

What worried you most was that you were walking in the middle of the woods to a house with twelve other men.

Seungcheol laughed at your reaction.

"We are not biological brothers, we don't share blood. But we've all been living together for a very long time, they're like my brothers." He clarified.

"How big does your house have to be to be able to live with twelve other people without constantly fighting?"

"Well, usually it's not all twelve of us in the house every day. Now three of them are on a trip, they went to a nearby town. And two others went to spend the weekend with their families." He explained. "Anyway, there is always something new to fix or do in the house, so we keep busy. I'm sorry for any mess there may be, Mingyu.... He's the one who's usually in charge of keeping the house clean, he hasn't been feeling too well lately."

"Is he sick?"

"Something like that." Seungcheol muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"He's not the one who got hurt by something in the lake... Is he?" you asked worriedly.

"Oh, no!" Seungcheol laughed, "that was Minghao. He didn't speak Korean well back then, so it was hard for him to understand what we were trying to warn him about."

Seungcheol had been right because in a matter of five minutes you were standing in front of a large wooden house.

It was about three stories as far as you could see and from the outside there was a large staircase leading up to the roof.

The steps, also made of wood, led up to the front door of the house. There were two outside seats, which looked really comfortable, outside by the door. Both were being occupied by two young men.

"Hello!" one of them greeted energetically, standing up and approaching you and your sister quickly. "You are (y/n), aren't you?" he asked staring at you.

The assurance in his voice made you take a step back, bumping into the chest of Seungcheol, who was standing behind you. You were feeling a bit wary.

"Soonyoung." Seungcheol warned behind you. "You're scaring her."

"Sorry." He replied with a smile. "It's just that Seungcheol tells us a lot about you. And about your delicacies."

Your cheeks quickly warmed, and you could hear Arianna giggling beside you.

The words Jeonghan had mentioned that time he had gone to the bakery suddenly came back to your mind.

"Stop it." A guy with an American accent that automatically made you feel more relaxed. "Hello, my name's Joshua."

"My name's (y/n); nice to meet you. You both." You quickly added, remembering that you had not introduced the Soonyoung guy properly either.

Now that you could finally go back to English, you felt a little bit more comfortable. While you would understand Korean and speak it comfortably, there wasn't anything like speaking your native language.

"Joshua." The guy introduced himself, and Arianna made sure to do the same. "Are you both staying in for dinner?"

"No," you quickly replied, "Seungcheol said someone could take a look at my finger. K was at the lake and accidentally cut it."

"Oh, let's go inside so I can take a better look. Joshua nodded, opening the door.

You followed him inside, sending Arianna a look that said, "Don't touch anything and stay close."

Inside the house, there was a smell of vegetables being cooked and some meat as well, which made your mouth water with saliva.

There was an orangish light inside that made the place look warmer and homey.

You saw some heads turned from behind a sofa, some waving their hands at you and Arianna, and others walking toward Seungcheol and greeting you both.

It felt weird because, even though Arianna was just there as well, you could feel almost all of their eyes on you as you kept moving.

"I don't know where Wonwoo left the mirror I usually use. Joshua mumbled and looked at Seungcheol. "He's not coming home tonight, is he?"

"No, I think his brother needed him to help him with something; he should be back tomorrow."

"It's alright; we will manage." He said this, looking at you and smiling calmly. "That's quite a nasty cut, isn't it?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, "it burns when I touch it."

Joshua hummed, nodded, and went back to his room to search for something. Your eyes wandered through the rest of the house, and you could hear some loud noises coming from downstairs that made you jump.

"Sorry, some of the kids are playing a little bit too hard." Seungcheol apologized, walking towards one of the walls and knowing it softly. You didn't really hear it, but almost as if it had been a rehearsal before, the noises stopped.

"Look who's here." A voice that you knew spoke behind you. Your head turned to see Jeonghan's back relaxing against the doorframe. A teasing smile adorned his face. "The start of the house is finally visiting. Is this a new service of the bakery? That's so nice of you guys to give back a visit to your most dedicated customer."

Arianna seemed to really enjoy Jeonghan's humor; she was laughing loudly, crossing her arms over her chest, waiting for more to come.

"Hi Jeonghan." You greeted him.

"Hello, (y/n)," he replied happily, a smile decorating his face. "Are you staying for dinner? We made extra."

"We would love to, but our mom would disown us if we missed dinner at home without telling her in advance."

Jeonghan laughed, saying, "Oh, my mom's the same. At least bring some home. I'll prepare it while you're here, he said, turning to Arianna. "Why don't you help me, kid?"

And now it was your turn to laugh because of Arianna's expression.

She hated it when people called her a kid.

She always said she was a grown teenager already.

"Sorry about that too," Seungcheol sighed, closing his eyes and massaging them with his fingers. "Jeonghan's a pain in the ass sometimes; just ignore him and everything he says or does."

You chuckled, "It's alright. I like him, actually. You reassured him.

Seungcheol frowned. "You like him? He asked. "Like, you like like him or...?"

"Oh no," you said, shaking your head once it finally hit you how it had come out of your mouth. "I mean, I like him because he's nice, not like that. Sorry, my Korean can be a little bit too..."

"It's perfect." Seungcheol rushed to reassure you.

Joshua quickly came back with something that smelled awful.

It was green, and it felt weird on your skin.

"This will help with the burning feeling, and it will avoid getting it infected or causing inflammation. Leave it all night, and tomorrow wash it off, alright? If it still burns, please come back so I can take another look, but it should be fine."

"Thank you!" You sighed happily; it did feel better than the burning from before. But now you had to make sure you made up a good excuse for it before you went back home. Your father would not be happy if he found out you went to the middle of the forest, followed a man to his house, which was full of other dudes inside, and then let one of them treat your wounds.

Arianna practically ran towards you once she saw you coming out of the room with an annoyed expression and mouthing something under her breath. She was carrying a big container with food in her hands.

Soonyoung sent you a wink on your way out of the house, and Jeonghan told you to enjoy the food.

By the moment the door was closed behind Seungcheol and you were back outside, with the muffled noises from the house becoming less and less audible as your legs took you back home, you felt like it had been days since you left your house less than an hour ago.

Seungcheol did walk you both until he could see your house, and he made sure that you both reached it safely.

"It was nice meeting you, Arianna," he said, smiling at her before Arianna went inside. His eyes moved back toward yours. "I'm sorry for all the mess at home; some of it can be a little bit too much sometimes."

"It's alright; I really had a nice time there." You reassured him.

"I was wondering if maybe next time we could spend some time together outside the bakery." He chuckled nervously, his eyes moving to the ground and his feet tapping up and down the grass.

"Sure, Noah would love to go to the lake next time." You smiled at him.

"That would be lovely, yeah. But I was wondering if it could be just us, together."

"Oh." You replied surprised. "I would love to. I need to make friends."

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