#we're still in the thick of it here with this one folks!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairysluna · 1 year

Text

little wolf.

Cregan's little sister is the only one who can change his mind, which is why Aemond decides to use his charms and convince her to support the Green using some peculiar methods.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Tags/TW: smut (p in v, loss of virginity, f!oral sex, praise, breeding, kinda innocent!kink), teasing, a bit of mean!aemond, slight dubcon, cregan being an overprotective brother, cursing. if something is missing let me know!!

Author's Note: mimor @tvrgvryen sent me this request a few days ago and I had to do it bc i loved it so much. So here it is!

Word Count: 4.9k

Aemond has always been a good observer. He has always noticed the small details, the reason why people acted as they did, the way people treated others. That's why it wasn't hard for him to realize how important you were for your beloved brother Cregan.

The day he first stepped into Winterfell after Vhagar gracefully landed on the snow, he saw how brave Cregan was for stepping between you and the enormous beast. However, that mere gesture exposed the big affection he had for you; his only sister, and with that, Aemond knew what was Lord Stark's greatest weakness… you.

He went to the North with a mission, a task to fulfill, and he was not a man that was known to give up on things. Aemond was resilient, determined. He would not accept a negative answer from the Warden of the North, and even though he knew about the oath and how Starks are famously known for being loyal to their words; he was eager to find his way to gain the North's support.

And his opportunity came up with you; the sweet, kind Lady Stark. Beloved by all, you were also known as the Heart of Winterfell, for it was said that even the small folk held dear for you. Everything that Aemond heard about you were nothing but good words, showing how much people appreciated you, which only impulsed Aemond's bad intentions.

It is true, a Stark never forgets an oath, but the North gathers when the wolf howls… and even though your brother was the visible face of your House, everyone knew that it was you the one that had true power over the masses; your gentleness made you the Queen of the North, and that information was enough for Aemond to start his devious schemes.

It all started at the training yard. The snow had fallen earlier in the morning, covering the ground with a thick layer of snow. He was staring at you as you struggled with a bow and arrow, not being able to hit the bullseye. This would only make you groan with impatience, despair even. Aemond pressed his lips and looked down at his shoes, trying to show himself amused by you wrestling.

"You're too tense, my lady," he said as he slowly walked towards you.

His black fur coat covering his slim shape, his white hair perfectly still despite the crazy wind, his hands at the back of his body. He looked so effortlessly elegant, it almost made you blush.

"My prince," you greeted him, bowing swiftly, "I'm sorry you have to watch this terrible attempt."

"I didn't know women were allowed to train here in the North," he spoke, politely as he stretched his arm to touch the fine wood of the bow you were holding.

"We're not," you replied, "but my brother insists I should be prepared to defend myself, so he forces me to train either way."

"Mhm…" he nodded, "your brother is a clever man. A beauty like yours is the target of many deprived men, he's doing well by letting you learn how to protect yourself."

"But he barely has time to teach me," you complained, placing your arms in position to shoot again, "now he's in a meeting with the Mormonts, and I am here," you let the arrow go, but it didn't even hit the target. "...failing miserably."

Aemond chuckled, and you inevitably blushed at the low sound that came out of him. You stared at him from your peripheral view, analyzing his undeniable beauty and flirtatious smirk which made your heart beat a little too fast.

"You're too tense," he repeated, as he shifted his position until he was behind you.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he squeezed them softly giving you a soft and short massage that made you close your eyes. Soon, one of his hands reached yours, the one that was holding the bow's grip. He wrapped it around yours, and you immediately felt his warmth on your cold skin. It made you gasp silently.

"You see, I'm not so good at using a bow, I think my weapon of choice is the sword," he whispered, getting closer to your ear, his breath smacking against your shivering skin, "but I know things… and I can teach you if you please, my lady."

His nose rubbed against your hair, and your delicious smell almost made him groan. Soon, the prince helped you to fix your position as your breathing was getting heavier and an unknown feeling was installed in your lower belly. You feel the heat even though it was freezing cold, you felt his body pressing against yours leaving a sensation of distress, as if your body was begging you for something.

You feared of someone seeing you; the position was quite compromising, and you were certain your reputation would be stained if someone witnessed such a scandalous scene. It felt too intimate for you, perhaps not so proper for a maiden like you. You would have tried to push him away, but there was something within him that did not allow you to do so; it was as if he had bewitched you with his charms, and you were under a spell from which you were not able to wake up.

"It's simple, my lady," he explained, "you must relax, you must let go," his voice so deep and low against your ear, "come on, no one's watching, you're under no pressure…"

His touch, so delicate and gentle, mixed with his words, which you quickly misinterpreted; 'no one's watching', it sounded more like an invitation rather than words of comfort. You couldn't help but to sigh, a gesture that brought a slight smirk upon Aemond's face.

"Let yourself go, Lady Stark," his voice turned more breathy, rapier. "That's it, so good… now, eyes on the target, don't take your eyes off of it, okay?"

You simply nodded, wildly blushing at his praise. There was a subtle shiver that went to your trembling hands, you cleared your throat trying to play it down.

"Take deep breaths, don't close your eyes," his hands left yours, now going to your abdomen, his nose brushing against your ear as he kept whispering, "good, good girl."

Your teeth captured your lower lip as you held back a whimper. Squirming in your place, you felt weak on the knees as his hands left a squeeze on your hips.

"Now… shoot."

You listened, and your hand let go of the string. Your eyes widened with surprise as the arrow hit close to the bullseye, which was certainly not perfect, but it was an improvement. A smile appeared in your face as you tilted your head to appreciate your achievement, and soon a giggle escaped you.

"Oh, Gods…" you sighed, "I did it."

"You did it," Aemond said, "you did so well."

His words made your face turn to face him, and his lips were just a few inches away from yours. Your breath hitched, as your heart pounded with so much strength that you thought he would be able to hear it… even feel it. His hand traveled upwards your body until it reached the nape of your neck.

For a moment you thought he would kiss you, that his soft-looking lips would dare to touch yours. But suddenly, he pulled away. Few seconds later, footsteps were heard dragging the snow beneath their feet, and soon you found out the reason behind his abrupt reaction.

"Sister!" you heard. The deep and roaring voice of your brother woke you up from your trance, and you turned around to face him.

You saw a frown upon his face as his eyes narrowed. For a moment you thought he saw how close you were with Aemond, but soon his own words proved you wrong.

"Septa has been waiting for you for an hour!" he scolded you, "why are you still here?"

It took you a while to speak, you knew your voice would come out weak and thin if you dared to utter a word in that moment, which not only would make Cregan be suspicious of what happened, but also would embarrass you in front of the charming prince.

Luckily for you, Aemond decided to step in.

"I was helping her train, my lord, I'm sorry for the disruption I might have caused," you looked down at the steps Aemond had left in the snow, right beside yours.

You were quick and subtle once you purposely stepped on them to erase them. Aemond noticed and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, stop your training and go," he demanded, "you might continue tomorrow."

You had no choice but to obey. One last glance was given to Aemond as you bowed to him, saying goodbye. Cregan followed your frame as you entered the castle, and then he turned to look at the prince. Aemond was no fool, he knew Cregan was not ignorant of his intention… he was a man after all, he could see through his facade with no big effort.

However, he did not say anything about it. He just nodded, and then he left leaving Aemond standing alone with the burning desire running down his body.

At first, he planned on just seducing you… but now? Now he will have you. He needed to have you.

That same day, quite late at night, you were found in your chambers, laying on your belly on top of the fur carpet right in front of the warmth of the fireplace. A book was between your hands as your eyes followed the traces of the poetic words that were written in it. The sound of the fire crackling and burning the wood was the only thing you were able to hear until three soft knocks interrupted the quiet calmness of the night.

You barely looked up as you muttered a soft 'come in', turning the page to continue with your reading. The door was opened in a subtle movement that you barely noticed, and soon you heard steps getting close to you.

It wasn't until you were able to see the shoes of that person that you decided to look up, only to find Aemond's grin staring back at you. You immediately sat up, crossing your legs and trying to cover your breasts with the book; the fabric of your nightgown was thin, and you knew that your skin could usually be seen through it if he dared to squint to take a look.

Your body hasn't forgotten about his touch and closeness, and in a certain way it was actually craving for more of that. But you knew it was not proper, you've heard whispers around the castle claiming that he was actually betrothed to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, meaning he already belonged to someone else.

And yet, you couldn't help but to feel the eagerness to touch him.

"My Prince," you said, the shock of seeing him there, sitting on the carpet right beside you was shown in your voice, "what- what are you doing here?"

"I found myself alone and bored in my chambers, so I decided to wander around the castle and the path brought me here… to you," he smiled kindly as he said those last two words. Words that made your heart beat faster and your cheeks turn red, "were you reading?" He asked, pointing at the book that was covering your pebbled nipples.

"Uh… yes," you nodded, shyly, "it's a book about poetry."

"Poetry?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, "Mind if I have a look, little wolf?"

You couldn't help but to wildly blush with the pet name, feeling butterflies inside your belly as you pulled the book out of your chest and left it in his hands. Aemond's eyes inevitably went to see your soft breasts covered by a thin white layer of silky fabric, breathing deep and harsh as he felt his cock twitch inside his pants once he managed to see your nipples through it.

He remained calm, even when the only thing he wanted was to rip that gown out of your body and take you right there. Instead, he just sighed as his fingers elegantly turned the pages, reading some extract of the love poems in the book.

"I see you're a romantic person, my Lady," he commented, without taking his eyes off of the pages, "do you consider yourself a fan of the genre?"

"It's something that I enjoy reading, yes," you nodded.

"I had the impression," he confessed, closing the book and leaving it aside, "have you ever been in love?"

You shook your head, "I don't- I don't think so."

"Mhm…" he sighed, "that’s odd, you're a gorgeous lady, one might have thought you had a lot of suitors waiting for you."

"You're too kind," you said, looking retrained for a few seconds.

"I'm just stating the facts, little wolf," he spoke softly, "It seems like your brother likes to scare them away."

"Them?" You asked confused.

"Your suitors," he clarified, "that's the only reasonable explanation of why you are not married yet."

"He just wants the best for me," you defended him.

"And what would that be?"

"A husband who not only sees me as a womb with legs, but also as something precious, something worthy of love and care," your dreamy voice made Aemond smirk, the naiveness in you amused him in so many ways.

"You're asking for too much in a society like this, don't you think?"

You shrugged, "a girl can only dream."

The prince nodded, "and a man can only fulfill those dreams, am I right?" You remained silent, avoiding his heavy and penetrative stare at all cost, "have you ever been this close to a man before?"

"No…"

"I could tell," he chuckled, a sound that buzzed into your ears and made your mind go fuzzy, "you were quite nervous when I helped you with your bow this morning."

"I don't feel very comfortable with the proximity of men…" you confessed.

"Of all men, or just of me?"

That's when you realized where this was going, and the panic quickly installed in your gut as you swallowed hard. It took you some time, but you finally noticed his true intentions. You knew you had to stop him before things went further.

"My prince, I'm not quite sure what you mean by those words," you started to stand up, tumbling in your knees, "but it's late and it wouldn't be proper for you to be seen in my chambers, so please-"

Your words were interrupted by the sudden action of Aemond, who pulled you closer until you stranded him, your legs at each side of his body as he forced you to sit on his lap, his hands pressed in your hips firmly, not allowing you to escape from his strong grip.

"I think you know what I mean, my lady…" he whispered, leaning closer to your ear only to mutter with his seductive and raspy voice, "I think you can feel it."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the same time you tried to speak, "I- I don't know…"

"Tell me what you felt when I touched you this morning," he commanded, his hands lowering to your thighs, starting to lift the thin fabric of your gown, "was it similar to what you're feeling right now?"

"I… I don't-"

"I sensed your nervousness when I said how good of a girl you are," he chuckled, starting to breathe in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, "does that arouse you, little wolf? Being praised?"

"Prince Aemond, this is not proper, please-" you tried to pull away, but his grip pushed you down once again. Now you were able to feel his hard-on pressing right down your core, which sent you a sensation that caused chills down your spine.

"That's not what I'm asking you," he spoke sternly, massaging your thighs, squeezing them every now and then, "Mhm… my sweet little wolf, you're shaking. Are you nervous now? You don't have to be, I won't hurt you."

"I told you I do not enjoy this," you breathed out, feeling his hands reaching your hips underneath your gown.

"So you're telling me that if I dare to touch between your legs… I would not find your cunt drenching for me?"

His words made you squirm, the blush running to your cheeks as his thumb started to caress your mons pubis. Your body tensed as you widened your eyes, feeling his finger pressing down.

“I- I don’t- my Prince, please stop-” a small moan interrupted your words as he found your clit between your folds. His thumb rubbing it slowly as you closed your eyes; embarrassed that he was touching such a private part of your body.

“Have you ever been kissed, my lady?” He asked, trying to hold back a groan as he felt your slick coating his digit, “Has someone been lucky enough to be the first to claim your beautiful lips?”

You shook your head, Aemond hummed with delight.

“Then I guess I’ll be the first…”

You barely were able to process his words when he pressed his soft lips against yours. Slow movements that were easy for you to follow without much struggle as you held back whimpers of pleasure, for his thumb was still torturing your pearl in a slow and gentle manner.

Your hand fell on his chest, not with the intention of pushing him away. You grasp his thin blouse, catching the fabric between your trembling hands as you felt the tip of his tongue starting to tease your lips. Hesitantly, your lips parted just a few inches, enough to give him space for him to claim your mouth; swirling his tongue against yours as you tried to keep up with his slow and tempting actions.

He was able to taste your inexperience, the way you would doubt your movements before actually doing them was enough proof for him to know that you were not lying; he was the first man to kiss, which now made him more eager to also become the first man to fuck you.

A gasp escaped your swollen lips when, in a sudden movement, he laid your body in the soft carpet, spreading your legs and placing himself between them. Your nightgown was wrinkled around your hips, exposing your glistening folds to him as he kept playing with your now sensitive clit. Soft mewls were heard as he stopped kissing you in order to taste your skin. You felt the wet caresses of his lips in your neck, your jaw, your collarbones, all while your hands were grasping the fur of the carpet beneath you.

His fingers were soon covered in your juices, your hips trying to move against them in an attempt to feel more, but he pulled them away and you widened your eyes once you saw him licking them and humming after he felt your sweet taste against his tongue. Your breath was caught in your throat as you heard him groan.

"My lady, you taste as sweet as you are," he spoke slowly, you blinked a couple times still feeling your mind fuzzy, "do you want a taste?"

You gulped, not entirely sure of what to reply. The words were unable to come out, so all you could was nod.

A careless smile appeared on his face as he left a soft kiss on your cheek, before you realized your legs were on his shoulders and his face buried in your drenching cunt as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure his tongue was providing you.

His slurping was heard, echoing in the room as you tried to push his head away from your pussy, breathing fast and unsteady as he devoured you. You felt his tongue teasing your needy hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, making you moan a bit too loudly. His hands were grabbing your hips tightly, just to make sure you don't escape from him; his fingertips burying in your soft skin as your body writhe under his skilful mouth.

You could feel your own slick slipping down your thigh along with his spit. It was messy, far from being as slow and calm as the kiss he gave you before. He was eager to make you cum; licking, sucking, and fucking your cunt until you were nothing but a moaning mess.

It was over before you even noticed it. With a loud gasp, your eyes rolling and your thighs pressing at each side of Aemond's head, you reached your first orgasm, which finished with you gulping and hiccuping with pleasure. You heard him moaning against your soaking folds, collecting all your slick to then lean over your body.

He took a look at your face, your lips quivering as your cheeks were burning and tinted with a furious red. His fingers reached your chin, and made you open your mouth, which you did without hesitation. His spit fell in your tongue before your glistening eyes closed as you whimpered. You were able to taste yourself in it, the sweetness of your release coating your tongue.

"Swallow it," he commanded, and you quickly obeyed him, "good girl…" he let out a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but to feel an unknown heat running down your body. "See? I told you you were sweet, doesn't it taste good?"

You nodded, sighing.

"So good, so delicious…" he leaned to kiss you again as his hands pulled down your gown, freeing your breasts, "I swear it, my lady, I will not rest until your cunt is mine forever."

His big hands left a soft squeeze on your tits before they went to his pants, untying the lace and pulling them down. His leaking cock was now on your sight, hard and reddish. You barely noticed he took off his shirt as you were too hypnotized seeing that specific part of his body. Aemond immediately noticed your curious eyes, and he teasingly grabbed his cock in his hand only to stroke it a few times before letting it on top of your clit.

"Do you want it, my lady?" He whispered, starting to rub himself on you.

You whined, looking down at the obscene scene of his cock parting your puffy lips.

"Do you want my cock to make you feel good?" He groaned, feeling your slick coating his shaft, "I will give it to you if you ask me… Tell me what you want."

You gulped, trying to pronounce pleas.

"Aemond… I- I want…"

"Tell me, my beautiful lady," he muttered, "tell me what you desire."

"I want you… please… it's hurting, I-"

The head of his cock reached your hole and he slowly started to sink in you. Your eyes widened as a soft cry escaped your throat. Your legs closed as you brought them against your chest, and Aemond groaned in disapproval.

"Come on, darling… keep your legs open for me," he cooed, "I want to see your pretty pussy taking my cock."

He held the back of your knees, keeping your legs folded but spread. His cock was buried in your tight cunt as tears of pain started to fall down your cheeks. A loud cry was heard, louder than all of the others, and Aemond was quick to put his hand on top of your mouth.

"Sh, sh…" he whispered, "It's okay, it'll pass. Just relax, my lady, it will feel so good."

He spreaded you open with one push, your back arched as you struggled to take him. He stayed still for a few seconds before his own lust decided that he could not wait any longer. Your walls were squeezing him deliciously as he started to pound against you, groaning and moaning as the pleasure was taking the best of him.

Grasping on the fur beneath you, you started to sob. Aemond saw the signs of pain in your face and he quickly leaned over you in order to take one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. The feeling that brought you was indescribable, and soon the pain became bearable as his thrusts remained slow but became harder.

Aemond would choke his moans against your tit as his tongue skilfully swirling around it, licking and sucking as he kept fucking you, each thrust going deeper and deeper.

"Fuck…" he sighed, "your pussy is so fucking tight. Made by the Gods just for me."

His words made you drool as the warmth of the fireplace was starting to affect you, making you sweat. His hand left your mouth, now going to play with your swollen and needy clit.

"This little cunt belongs to me now, doesn't it?" he purred against your ear.

"A-Aemond..."

He hummed, "how sweet you sound when you moan my name like that."

"P-please…"

"What is it, my lady?" he teased you, "do you want to cum? Do you want to make a mess on my cock?"

"Y-yes…" you managed to say, choking with your words as he thrusted harder, "Oh, Gods! Yes…"

"That's it, sweet girl…" he praised you, "taking me so well, so good. I'm gonna fill you up, leave you leaking with my cum. Is that what you want?"

"G-Gods… yes, p-please!" you whined.

"Then I guess I have no other choice but to give you what you want…"

A soft chuckle left him as his thrusts became faster. His hips smacking against yours as he gripped your arsecheeks to gain stability. The sound of your slick drenching around his cock echoed in the room as you started to cry out, sobbing with pleasure and begging for more.

Aemond looked at your cunt, and a soft and subtle whine was heard as he saw the way his cock disappeared between your folds. Your pleas would only make him desperate, eager to reach his climax and seeing your abused hole leaking his pearly seed. The image alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck, so good… so fucking good," he lifted your hips, pounding restlessly against you as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as his breathing turned unsteady, "such a perfect pussy, squeezing me so fucking good."

You clenched around him, and that was what sent him over the edge, spilling his big loads of cum inside of you at the same time that your release exploded. Your cries were heard even in the hallway, as the intensity of your orgasm took over your shaky body. The feeling of him stuffing you with his seed sent you a shiver down your spine that made you twitch your hips.

Aemond leaned over you to kiss you, pounding lazily as he was coming down from his orgasm. You receive the sloppy kiss as your eyes were closing by themselves, too worn out to keep them open.

But then, Aemond decided to speak.

"Look at you, sweet girl…" he said with an odd tone that you haven't heard from him until now, "what would your big brother say if he saw you now, huh? Filled with my seed, a mess under my touch."

Your breathing stopped for a second and only then you realized what you did. You opened your eyes only to find a smirk on his face, and your heart dropped.

"You probably will be swollen with my bastard in a few months… then what would the people think of you? The Heart of the North carrying the Prince's bastard child…"

"N-no…" you muttered, starting to softly push his chest.

"Mhm, yes…" he scoffed, "unless I take you as my bride, of course."

A shaky breath came out of your nose as tears of despair fell down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivered as your gleaming eyes looked at his.

"W-would you… would you take me as your wife?"

Aemond smirked, starting to pull out of you. He hummed delighted with the view as he saw the pearly drops leaking out of you. He sighed, putting his pants on and fixing his clothes.

"If your brother decides to join his forces with ours, I will take you as my bride and no one will know this happened before our marriage…" he said, standing up and looking down at you. "But, if he decides to join my sister's army…"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence for you to know the consequences of that. The panic ran down your body as you sat in the carp carpet, covering your nudity with your nightgown and crying.

"How- how am I supposed to-?"

"Cregan Stark will do anything his little sister commands," he interrupts you, taking a few steps towards you to gently grab your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him, "so you better choose the right option, my lady."

He left a caress in your cheek with a smug smile on his face. He abandoned your chambers, letting you there feeling helpless and a bit scared.

It wasn't a big surprise for him when a few days later Lord Stark gave him the good news… and Aemond fulfilled his words, marrying you a month after the North joined the war and helped King Aegon II win the final battle against Rhaenyra.

What was a surprise, was the birth of your first child, a month earlier than what the Maesters expected.

2K notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 23 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

chronicowboy · 9 months

Text

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) | 43k

"Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin.

"Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug."

Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. Happy eyes bright and blue, pink lips stretched wide in a beaming smile, cheeks flushed pink with joy, hair carefully styled and stunningly golden in the morning sunlight. He's half-dressed too, tux jacket still on the hanger on the back of the chair, so Eddie gets an unbarred view of Buck's white shirt stretched taut over his biceps, shoulders, abs.

For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle if he'd just been brave enough to—

"I think he meant you, kid," Eddie teases as he drops their suits to the couch. He widens his stance, so Jee can run through his legs and evade another of Chimney's grab attempts, then he ruffles Christopher's curls as a steadying act before he's suddenly in front of Buck. And he tries not to think about the pathway cleared through the living room by Jee's chase, or the fact that they're under the archway between the kitchen and the dining table, or the knowledge that Bobby is an ordained officiant where he stands behind them. "Hey, Buck," he says softly, smiling genuinely now because this is Buck.

"Hey, Eds," Buck murmurs back, and it's the first time since they'd promised to have each other's backs that Eddie can't quite decipher the emotions making Buck's voice thick.

Eddie wraps him in a hug then, careful and detached as he can manage, but it's Buck in his arms, warm and alive and his for just a few more hours. He doesn't let himself hold Buck's hips like he used to before—before he'd realised why he'd wanted to hold Buck's hips so tightly—just splays his fingers over Buck's back and tries to focus on the soft cotton under his palms rather than the way Buck's temple rests so perfectly against his. Eddie stays there, for too long probably, fingers digging in too tight possibly, and squeezes his eyes shut when they start to water. He's clinging, and he tries not to think about how it feels a little like Buck is clinging to him too.

"Ah," Eddie huffs as he pulls away, taking two steps back just to be safe. He catches Maddie's eyes on him then, sadder than they should be for the happy tears she'd been crying just before he'd got here, and Eddie wonders if her big sister omniscience is working on him too. "Come on, Buckley. Got to make an honest man out of you sooner rather than later."

"Whilst we're on the topic," Chim intervenes, a wriggly Jee on his hips with two shoes on—finally. "Are we sure he should be wearing white?"

(OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

@butchdiaz @danielsousa @shitouttabuck @alyxmastershipper @diazass @911-on-abc @folk-fae @stagefoureddiediaz @jeeyuns @piningeddiediaz @robsumagpie @athenagranted @prince-buck-diaz @eddiediaztho @carryingbears @ladydorian05 @made-ofmemories @sherlockcrossing @violet-rot @binickmiller @rainbow-nerdss @thatnamewill-probably-change @ducksbellorum @organizedstardust @mangacat201 @faggotjoness @sibylsleaves @kaseysgirl86-blog @daughter-of-winterfell @thisyearsloveisnow @goodiecornbread @wordsofdiana @thehumongouskargomice @xandromedan @acebuddie @girlnamedjesse @pirrusstuff @angstydiaz @haradrimculture @pinky-promisesss @starlingbite @dontneedmyheart @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @buck2eddie @diazly

#sami rambles #SHE'S FINALLY HERE #ahhh im so excited for you all to read this one #please remember i gave myself carpal tunnel syndrome writing this and wrote through the agony #do compensate me with signal boosts kudos bookmarks comments asks etc.#911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic #palm springs au

280 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 1 year

Text

what're you doing new years?

(bigmoney!steve x f!thick!reader)

recommended reading: peanut butter vibe once bitten, twice shy recommended listening: what're you doing new years eve? by ella fitzgerald brought to you in part by carol's christmas song blitz, and readers like you.

cw: minors dni. 18+. drinking, smoking (cigarettes), casual dominance, references to cocaine, bathroom smut, p in v, fingering (f!receiving), literal IDIOTS in love, fake dating trope, discussions of class relations, gambling, mild daddy kink

a/n: we made it, folks! dividers by @newlips

December 31st, 1996 - NYC The apartment smelled like fresh paint and saw dust. Sprawling and sunsoaked, a lot of open space. You assumed all the apartments in Tribeca looked like this, gorgeous inside and out. Expensive and old money, beautiful brick outsides with stunning interiors. Windows with ornate arches that went from floor to ceiling with deep sills for books or antiques that cost more than your mom's life insurance.

"It's really nice," you say, stepping into the open concept livingroom - Barcelona chairs and a sleek black couch sit on a plush carpet. It looked like a show room. The heels of your leather boots click and echo on the redone hardwood. Boxes and boxes of his life in Indiana are stacked in the room against the wall, trailing all the way to a full chef's kitchen. New appliances gleam with the film still on them, untouched.

"You wanna see my room? It's almost fully done," he smiles. Steve offers his hand to you but you're hesitant. He falters when he catches the gears turning in your head and puts his hand in his pocket, leading you with a cock of his head to the left. "Down that hallway s'a guest room, laundry, full bath," he rattles off pointing down one hallway while he leads you down another, tapping on closed doors, "A couple other rooms I haven't figured out yet. Broker said they'd make great nurseries. I had to laugh." He's trying to joke with you, but you know it hurts him to say that. He's always offhandedly mentioned how much he wants to be a dad.

"And here's my room, master bath, full dressing room -- you know, sort of just like home," he smiles, clicking open the door and guiding you inside. It's set up very much like his old room in Indiana, big kingsize bed with triple fluffed pillows and hotel style linens. Crisp white this time, slight navy accents, light wood. It was bright and airy, the gauzy curtains fluttered gently against the central heating vent.

"Very you," you smile, "It's like you never left."

"Some things never change," he shrugs, opening the double doors to the dressing room, "Come see."

The room is a little smaller than his bedroom, which means it's still bigger than your apartment. The way his clothes are hung in the cubbies and his shoes are oragnized on the shelves can only be described as sterile.

"It's not done, obviously, but, we're getting somewhere," he smiles.

"Oh good, right now it's a little serial killer-y," you laugh, noticing that the other side of the room is completely empty, "Lot of vacancy here. Planning on getting a whole new wardrobe? Bored of the Saint Laurent you already have?"

He rolls his neck slowly to stretch it out, looking over at you and the vacant side of the dressing room with heavy lids through his specs. He lets out of a soft chuckle, "Nah, wanted to keep it empty so you can fit all your clothes in there, too."

You swallow. A tight smile freezes your face when he says it and you remember the conversation you had outside of his office building in Indiana the week before. His hurt features when you left him abandoned back in the lobby while he called another cab home. You came home in tears, your mom and sister consoling you and your tipsy dramatics. 'Never thought you'd be the heartbreaker, honey.'

You know she didn't mean it like that, but it still stung. Who were you to give up someone like Steve Harrington? Steve Harrington who, after he went home and cried in his shower and called his best friend about it, still wanted you to put your clothes in his closet. Still wanted to watch you wake up in the morning and rush to get ready for work. Still wanted you to come up behind him while he made you both coffee on Sunday mornings. Still wanted you take you out to dinner every Friday night so you could both sleep in on Saturday mornings.

"You got plans for tonight?" he asks when you don't reply to his half truth of a joke. You jolt out of your trance when he asks, looking over to see him cleaning his glasses with the cloth he always keeps in his back pocket. A gentle flush of pink has made itself to his cheeks and nose, your shoulders sulk a bit. You want to give into his little fantasy, but that's all it is. It's his little fantasy that doesn't need to be a reality, he'll have it with someone else -- anyone else.

You clear your throat, "Uh, yeah, actually. Um, the head of marketing, she always invites the department to her uncle's fancy New Year's Eve party so I finally made the cut. Some ridiculous theme this year -- casino or something? Just so they can all throw their money around." Steve starts to laugh, tutting while he puts his glasses back on, hands on his hips. "What's so funny?" you ask, arms crossing against your chest.

"The party's in midtown, right? At the Plaza?" he asks, matching your posture.

"Technically it's more midtown east, but yes," you reply with more attitude than you were expecting. You don't like hearing him talk like he knows his way around New York when he's been here all of ten seconds. "Yeah, your department head's uncle is Carl. CEO of Slate Insurance, s'my boss. Why do you think I came out here a little early?" he smirks. Fuck.

"Don't look so disappointed," he says, walking towards you slowly, dropping his hands to meet your hips, "You wanna just go together?"

You step out of his hold and catch his shoulders drop in his sweater, a pang of guilt drives through your chest at his disappointment, "I can get there myself, it's no problem."

"I mean, it's not the kind of party you roll up to in a cab," he says matter of factly, like it's obvious, "You have to like, make an entrance."

"I wasn't going to take a cab," you glower. A rejected Steve was sometimes not a very kind Steve, all showboating and no substance -- he just wanted to be a jerk. "What were you planning to take?" he asks, brows raised over his frames in faux curiosity, "The subway?" "Better than showing up in that tacky green Porsche," you retort, cheeks burning at his meanhearted teasing. He grins and shakes his head. "I left the Porsche with my dad. I'll probably take the new Benz," he shrugs, cocking his head while he looks at you, "Well -- my driver'll take the new Benz, but you know what I mean." Your face sours, he was reaching the border of ugly cockiness. "Looks like you’re not into a Mercedes," he frowns, a faux apologetic look washing over his face, "You wanna ride in the Bentley instead?"

"You sound like such an asshole," you confess, walking out of the dressing room and back into his bedroom. "What? I can’t congratulate myself for getting a new job?" he bites back, following you, “I’m just tryna catch up to what my life is gonna look like here, Nat.”

“Not all of us have that life, Steve.”

He softens while looking at your back, he reaches out to rest a hand on your shoulder to turn you around, “M’not trying to be an asshole, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, “I just—you know you can still be 'Hawkins Steve', Harrington. You don't have to be like these Wall Street guys.”

“I know,” he nods, both hands meeting your shoulders, “You wanna come with me tonight? Be my date? Carl’s sort of a traditional guy, it’ll be nice to make him think I’m some family man with a girl at home waiting for me.”

"Steve," you started, "We talked about this. This is your Christmas Party all over again." His eyes cast downward for a moment as the evening replays in his head at record speed. The day you left him, the day he realized he planned your whole future in his head but you didn't want that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn--" you start before he comes back to himself in time to interrupt.

"You can be my fake date," he nearly whines, lips pouting.

"I dunno," you shrug, his hands slide from your shoulders to the dip of your waist.

"You don't want me spoiling you all night? C'mon. I gotta show off to these assholes," he asks, voice warm and soothing. His cologne ghosts your nose and your knees get weak, "And you're a great way to start showing off."

Your heart thrums when he speaks, it's so frustrating to be around someone so handsome, "Don't be stupid, Harrington."

"It's not stupid, Manhattan. It'll be fun, we're just playing pretend," he takes a step closer to you and you can see his stubble, the plushness of his lips.

You consider it, he fights off a smile because he knows you're about to say yes. Steve Harrington always gets what he wants. Steve Harrington always gets the girl.

"Just playing pretend, huh?" you challenge.

"Just playing pretend," he smiles, wrapping you in a gentle hug -- friendly, chaste, sweet, "I'll pick you up at seven."

The hug is soft -- but you can feel his heart beating hard against his chest.

Bbbrrrriiiinggg!

You run to your front door, pressing and holding the button on the intercom to buzz him in. You click the lock before escaping back into the bathroom to finish your face, makeup bag torn open in your sink. As you finish your lipstick you hear a soft knock echo down the hall.

"It's open!" you call, and the loud squeak of your front door screeches through your apartment.

"Y'know this could really use some WD-40," Steve says while he shuts the door behind him, "Do you have some? I can --"

You peek around the door frame, patting your lipstick into your lips with your finger. His eyes glint behind his glasses.

"Hey," he smiles, brushing some of the snow off of his coat.

"Hey," you smile back.

"You look pretty."

"So do you," you tease before escaping back into the mirror. He meets you at the frame of the bathroom door, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

"Should I start telling you I'm picking you up earlier so you'll be ready on time?" he asks, dipping his glasses down his nose to peer at you over the rims, "Or are you wearing pajamas?"

You roll your eyes mid-mascara application, throwing everything back in the bag when you finish, "I just have to put my dress on and then we can go, I promise."

You hurry to your bedroom, only mere steps away, pulling your dress out of it's bag hanging on your closet door, "Give me five minutes!"

You shut your door in his face, slipping the navy satin over your head. It wasn't anything too special -- vintage cut fit and flare. The curves of your body made it look more expensive than it was. Your tailor did wonders on it after you snagged it from a sad looking rack of sale dresses at Saks. You pulled on a pair of nude, gloss finish stockings -- silicone on the bands snapping around your thighs with a loud smack, before slipping on a pair of heels.

While grabbing a small purse to keep your effects in, you open the door to reveal Steve resting against the wall of the hallway. He looks inside, giving it a once over with one turn of his head.

"This is uh...cozy," he says, his smile is unethusiastic.

"Fuck off, Harrington," you groan, spritzing your ever declining bottle of Angel by Mugler across your chest and wrists.

"Let me look at you, hm?" he asks, stepping all the way into the room. You turn toward him, skirt of your dress swaying with the turn of your hips. His eyes unfocus for a moment, you hold back a chuckle -- men are so easy.

“So let me wrap my head around this real quick,” he puffs his chest a bit while he walks toward you. You giggle while walking backward, tripping on your heels, “You were gonna go to this party alone —”

“Wearing this?” he asks, catching you by the waist to steady you. He lets a finger drag from the halter strap of your dress, following the curves of your body downward, “That’s just not fair, Manhattan.”

“You’re Manhattan now, too, Steve,” you correct. His light touch sends a shiver through you and he lets out a satisfied hum. He smells like spice and evergreen, your mouth runs dry when his eyes linger on you for a little too long.

"C'mon, can't let Vinny wait too long for me down there. You're makin' me look bad," he says gently, taking you by the hand to your front door. He pulls your camel coat off the hook and holds it open for you, gliding it onto your arms with the finesse of a man who knows exactly how to treat a woman. Betrayal is the only emotion running through your chest as your body warms up against his touch.

Naturally, the Bently is the nicest car you've ever fucking seen.

He was right, you couldn't have shown up in a cab. There were paps everywhere and you couldn't understand why. It's not like there was any famous people here, just people with a shit ton of money. Were they famous by proxy? Would this show up on Page Six? If your networth had seven zeros, did you get welcomed into a hall of fame or something? Did everyone want to read about your life?

You squinted into the flashes of people taking pictures, Steve's hand immediately lacing with yours as you walked towards the entrance of the hotel.

"Careful, careful," he says, while you inch up the short icy stairway. Your heels clicking on the stone as you reach the doors, "Go slow."

"I'm okay, Steve," you assure, he looks back at you with doting eyes when you get inside.

"Just don't want you to hurt yourself, baby," he softly scolds before locking eyes with an usher for the party.

Oh, we're starting this now, you think to yourself. He walks with his hand still laced with yours while the usher leads you both to the Grand Ballroom, framed signs letting patrons know that the casino is in the Terrace Room down stairs. You immediately feel too broke to be here.

"Let me get your coat."

He undoes the button at your waist, smoothing your coat over your shoulders before removing his own. He checks them both and your eyes widen at the amount of cash you see in his wallet as he goes to pay. Gulping hard while he fingers through the bills -- hundred after hundred gleaming back at you.

He turns when he's done, running a hand through is hair, and gives you a very Harrington smile, "You ready?"

Your words catch in your throat while you look at him. His suit is perfectly tailored, the shirt patterned, but silk and neatly pressed. His leather banded watch sits perched on his wrist -- you can tell it's new. His pants hugged his thighs, streamlined in a straight line down to his ankles -- shoes freshly shined. Being handsome like this had to be a crime in some counties, there was no way he was just allowed to look like this and be rich.

"You ready, baby?" he asks again, offering his hand, "Come on."

Something about being called baby by him feels so natural. Like you forgot your own name and that's the only one that could get your attention. Baby, angel, princess, honey. You'd look up immediately and search for him at the sound of his voice. You'd know he meant you.

But he's not your boyfriend. This is just pretend. This is not what you want.

When the doors open, you can't breathe. The ballroom is completely transformed in gold and silver. The lights and chandeliers catch the decorations in a show of shimmer. Like the whole room was waiting to start glittering until you got there.

"Holy shit," you whisper.

"Yeah we're definitely not in Indiana anymore," he mutters to you. You feel his hold tighten on your hand in a show of something you hardly see from Steve. He's nervous.

You look up at him, eyes riding up from his jaw, cheek bone, to his eyes behind his glasses. His gaze roves over the party and he licks his lips, brow quirking before he makes a decision.

"You okay?" you ask, he looks down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

"I'm perfect," he says with a nod. The room is sprawling with tables and he's able to finesse a way to get you both to sit together even though the seating chart had you woefully distanced. It doesn't surprise you how easily he's able to assimilate to making things work for him here. You see his performance again and again: with the waiters, with how he orders drinks, how he checks his watch, how he smiles at people walking by.

You're both at the bar when you see it in full force, his arm protectively around your waist, thumb grazing the smooth fabric to keep him grounded.

"Steven?"

You both look over, an old man with a thick, white walrus mustache in a stunning black suit comes close to approach you. His wedding band is a shining platinum to match the watch on his wrist -- sapphires sit in the face of the metal backing. You wonder briefly how much it costs.

"Oh, Carl!" Steve beams, letting go of your waist for a moment to shake the man's hand, "How are you? Beautiful event -- really stunning."

"Thanks, thank you, but you ought to tell that to my wife. She's the one who plans these things, I just foot the bill," he laughs. His light eyes linger on you and you flush.

"And who's this? She looks like she just walk right out of Old Hollywood."

You introduce yourself, hand reaching out to shake his but he takes it to his lips to press a kiss to your hand. If he wasn't Steve's boss you wouldn't have smiled at the gesture -- but ah well.

"This is my girl, Carl. The one I was telling you about," Steve says with a blush.

"Just your girl?" he asks, eyes noting to your empty ring finger, "Hope she's your fiancé soon, Harrington."

"Sooner than she thinks. I promise, sir," they both laugh. Steve's hand returns to your waist and it feels like a leash. They talk for a moment, Steve passing you a drink while he does. It's business and you don't care, the drink is liquor forward and your face sours at the first sip.

"Sorry baby, that's whiskey. That's mine," he switches your drinks seamlessly while still in conversation. "We're just so happy to have you, Harrington -- my son Chuck, he's y'know, he's got no fuckin' clue what he's doin'. I blame myself, me and Muffy let him do whatever he wanted," Carl complains, "So I think havin' someone who just gets the business will be really helpful. I know you'll start guiding him in the right direction."

"I mean Carl, I was the same when I was twenty-six, he'll get there," it was like Steve had known him his whole life. He keeps his hands on you while the talk continues, two more men joining in. C-Suites. Big money. Important people. You're just a piece of art hanging on his arm.

You need to get the fuck out of here.

As if the heavens heard your plea, a call of your name takes you out of your bored trance.

"Over here!"

You sigh with relief at the sight of your coworker, also head to toe in shimmering Saks ready to wear in a sea of authentic Dior and Chanel.

"S'cuse me," you say gently, tugging out of Steve's grasp. He looks down at you a little sternly, you frown.

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry. A friend of mine is looking for me, it was great to meet you all," you smile at the group of men, stepping away delicately on your heels until they aren't paying attention. As they continue talking your run on the balls of your feet into your friend's arms.

"Rob, oh my god, what the fuck are we doing here?" you laugh. Robin Buckley looks like a million bucks, but you know she only makes $49k a year because you do, too.

"We do not belong here," she laughs with you, "Do you wanna go lose some money with me downstairs?"

"Yes, yes, one hundred percent," you not, "Get me away from these stiffs."

"So that's Steve?" Robin asks, passing you a glass of champagne while you finish the last sip of the margarita Steve got you a little earlier.

"That's Steve," you murmur, immediately letting the bubbles slide past your lips.

"He's really something," she grins, "You're complaining about being smothered by that?"

"Stop Rob, you don't even like guys," you tease, nudging her knee with the tip of your heeled toe.

"I don't have to like guys to know when a guy is hot," Rob says through a sip of her drink, "And he's fucking hot. Like, Tom Cruise hot. Top Gun hot."

"Oh, stop."

"Jerry Maguire hot -- and like, super fucking rich, obviously. That's a Prada suit. Are you kidding? Talk about 'show me the money,' he's showing you, babe."

"Yeah, but like," you frown a little, "You know how all the guys in finance always talk about how much they hate their wives? And all their wives are Tribeca moms who keep going on retreats to 'work on themselves' after they get cheated on?"

"Of course, that's like, the Tribeca mom rite of passage," she agrees, crossing her thin legs, her sequin dress shimmered in the low, warm, light.

"So, Steve just moved to Tribeca -- it's like...like I'm staring my future right in the face," you exclaim, another sip meeting your lips, "And it's not like I look like any of those women either. I'll be going on my first retreat in three months tops."

"Okay, well one, you have no idea what you're talking about," Robin shakes her head, "You're a smokeshow."

"And two, isn't Steve from Kansas or something?"

"Indiana."

"Same thing," she waves you off, "Steve's from Arkansas. He doesn't have the same mindset as the guys who came here when they were teenagers to jerk off at frat parties at NYU."

"They'll get to him," you shake your head, looking at her with a knowing glance, "They always do."

You both make your way over to the slot machines, weaving through crowds at roulette and craps tables, snaking by chairs sat at poker games. The piles of chips make you sweat. There was a lot of money down here.

"This is all I can handle, cards are so boring," Robin sits down on the plush leather of the seat across from the machine while you take the one next to her. You both play a few rounds in silence before she looks over at you again.

"Do you know what I think?" she asks, champagne glass empty in her hand.

"What do you think, Buckley?" you ask, finishing the last sip of yours.

"I think Andy fucked you up a little and you can't believe someone like Steve wants to be with you, so you're pushing him away," she says with a shrug, "You're trying to hurt him before he can hurt you."

"You sound ridiculous."

"I sound ridiculous or I sound right on the money?" she asks, pulling the lever on the machine. It runs and stops, she doesn't win.

"Sounds like you're not on the money at all," you shrug.

"Shut up," she laughs, "I'm just saying, I think you're really convinced he's settling when I think it's pretty clear he likes you a lot."

"You don't even know him!" you exclaim, running the machine over again.

"Looks like I might get to know him," she smirks. You turn toward the entrance and there he is, frowning while peering through the room. He's squinting behind his glasses trying to find you in the low light, hands in his pockets. For a moment you think about letting him not find you, maybe he'd pick someone else up at the party. Hell, women were gawking at him from the moment he walked in -- he had plenty to pick from.

But the desperation on his face made your heart ache -- this really was your world. Maybe he really did need you to help show him around.

Against your own judgement, you wave, hoping he'd catch you in the sea of people. You don't have to wait long to see his smile when he catches you, waving back and disappearing in the crowd.

"Hey, there you are," he breathes with a small jog towards you, "Thought I lost you."

"No, no, just out here draining my Christmas bonus," you laugh, tugging on the lever again. Robin looks over and smirks at you when he rests his hand on the back of your neck under your hair, thumb grazing the skin under the hinge of your jaw.

"This is Robin, she's my friend from work," pointing your thumb at her. Always the business man, he leans over you to shake her hand.

"Steve -- nice to meet you," he grins.

"Oh, I know who you are," she teases. You shoot her a look, but it falters. The way his hand leaves your neck to stroke over your head, gently enough to not ruin your hair, makes you melt. It had to be the booze. The haze of cigarette smoke making you woozy.

The lights of the machine infront of you flash wildly, the music sounding, screen glowing - WINNER! JACKPOT! WINNER!

"Oh, fuck yes!" you cheer while the chips fall into into the opening at the bottom.

"Come on!" Robin huffs, "I've put in at least twenty more dollars than you have."

"Didn't pick the lucky machine, Rob," you joke, collecting the chips in a stack in your hand. "How much did you win?" he asks, trying to count them while you clumsily try to keep them together.

"I think just a hundred bucks, so -- eighty dollar profit!"

"Ugh don't say profit, we're at a party," Robin groans, pulling the lever down on her machine hastily.

"Let me take those," Steve says, collecting the chips and putting them in his suit pocket, "I have to go get some anyway."

He pulls out his wallet, thumbing through bills and plucks an $100 out. He folds it, handing it to you, "Now you don't have to cash them."

"Steve..." you scold softly. He takes your hand and presses the bill into it, closing your fingers over the paper. He smiles, thumbing through his wallet again while you put the money in your purse. He plucks out another bill and holds it out in front of Robin. Her mouth hangs open at the gesture.

"Steve!" you raise your voice but he thinks the reproachful look on your face is just too cute.

"Sorry Rob, I think he's drunk," you apologize, embarrassed beyond measure.

"What? I think she deserves a consolation prize," he smiles. Robin plucks the bill from his fingers, putting it in her wristlet.

"I think he should be drunk around me way more often if this is how he acts," she rasps. Steve throws her a wink, arm snaking around you once you get up from the slot machine stool.

"S'it okay if I steal her from you?" he asks. You swallow thickly, both hating and loving how he pulls you around this party like you're his property.

"Steal her, take her home, take her kidneys, I don't care," she laughs, "Do whatever you want, consider me paid off."

"I'll see you later, Rob!" you smile, reaching out and squeezing her hand. As Steve turns around with you, you look back at her. She gives you an exasperated look -- 'What the fuck is wrong with you? He's great.'

He is great. That's what makes it so hard.

He leads you over to the chip exchange, fingers grazing your back while he lets go of your waist. His hand sneaks into suit jacket where he pulls out a wad of cash secured by a shining gold money clip.

"Can I get four grand in hundreds?" he asks.

"Steve that's -- stop," you huff, "Who're you trying to impress?"

"Impress?" he scoffs, "The buy in for blackjack is five hundred dollars, baby. This is just fuck around money."

"Here," he says, plucking a glass of champagne off of a waiter's tray as he offers them. Steve passes it to you, "Have a drink, stop pouting. It's a holiday."

You sip it bitterly while you wait and he sighs at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching back into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and a silver lighter, embers glowing while he inhales, lighter escaping back to its hiding place.

"Hey," he says, blowing the smoke out away from you, "Wanna smile for me?"

You smile, it's fake and exaggerated, he laughs into his next drag, "I'll take it."

The attendant passes Steve a rack of chips, neatly rowed but as he's about to take them his name is called. Yet another group of stiffs asking for his attention.

"Will you hold this for me, honey? Thank you," he asks softly, passing you the rack. You nod while you take it, desperately hoping this conversation goes quicker than the last one. He introduces you like you brought you on a leash and they all shake your hand like you're a show pony that got gussied up to leave the stable. You're not a person, just an accessory -- and you know they're surprised at his choice, but he doesn't need the extra social currency.

You keep sipping your champagne and shutting up, but your ears perk up when you hear him mention you, "You know she just put together this wild campaign for their lipstick line with the creative team, she might as well have produced it. And now their quarterly has that lipstick up fourteen percent and growing. And here we are with just -- what? Claims? How do we even market that? She swears what she does is boring."

You blush at his praise. So he does listen when you complain about work.

The conversation changes and you're bored again, eyes surveying the crowd of long elegant women and handsome stuffy men. Cheers roaring from tables, the sounds from the slot machines, it seemed less overwhelming with a few drinks in you. You guessed upstairs was for the boring people.

"Have you ever even seen four grand before?" you hear sneering your way. You look up and there he is -- the heartbreaker whose heart you barely broke by breaking up with him. The boy who hardly cared.

“Andy?” you ask, brows pulling inward in disgusted shock, “What’re you doing here?”

Andy had gotten a new attitude after he got a new job, suddenly too good for you and your old group of friends. Suddenly telling everyone he broke up with you. Telling everyone he shouldn't settle for less. The glasses of champagne you’ve had finally meet your brain, making you woozy and nervous. The glittering decorations on the ceilings marry the lights and cross over your vision. Andy sparkles in front of you, his friends faded out behind him. A scene in slow motion.

You feel Steve’s hand on your waist, giving you little squeezes so you don’t feel like he’s ignoring you while he talks to his new colleagues about stocks and sales. Boring metrics that you’d care about if it mattered.

“I was invited. Perks of Chuck being my boss,” he gives you a smarmy smile, knowing you’re only here by proxy. Not because you’re important, not in the same way that—

“Whose this asshole?” Andy scoffed, giving Steve a once over. You hear Steve’s pleasant, ‘Sorry fellas, if you’d excuse me…’ to his group as he turns toward Andy and his friends. He flashes a charming Harrington smile.

“Andy! Nice to see you again, man,” he raises his champagne flute toward him cheerily. Andy looks at Steve with a furrowed brow, confused but sly.

“Sorry, guy. Not sure we’ve met,” he laughs — covered in new money sleaziness, his friends laugh with him, “Nat must’ve told you all about me, I guess.”

You feel Steve’s posture change — confident and cocky. His head tilts the way it does when you know he’s about to say something mean. Your body heats up when he places his empty glass on the platter of a near by server, putting the free hand in his pocket.

“We met in Indiana,” he corrects, confidence unfaltering, “You don’t remember?”

“Indiana?” Andy scoffs again. Your face twists into something Steve doesn’t like, a mix of annoyed and embarrassed.

“Well, since you’re at a loss let me reintroduce myself,” he smirks. He puts his hand out shake your ex’s, Andy loosely shakes it back.

“Name’s Steve,” he introduces himself with a warm genuine quality that people learn from years of sales work, clapping his other hand over Andy’s, “Steve Harrington. I’m Natalie’s boyfriend.”

He says it so casually that you immediately flush, it sounds too natural.

“Oh,” Andy says, surprised. He gives you a once over, offering you a pathetic glace, “You're dating her? You're her boyfriend?”

“Her boyfriend,” he lilts, taking his hand away. He slinks an arm back around your waist, tucking his shoulder behind yours, “And sorry, couldn't help but over hearing -- You said Chuck’s your boss? Chuck at Slate Insurance?”

“Yeah, and?” Andy asked, annoyed. Steve let out a gentle chuckle, the kind that sounds rich. The kind that sounds like a trust fund with seven figures.

“Oh, that’s—hoo!— that’s funny,” he teases, but it comes out cool and uncaring. He bites his lip to keep from laughing more, giving Andy a judgmental once over.

“What’s so funny about it?” he asks, arms crossing in a huff causing his cheap suit to crease.

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s funny because I’m Chuck’s boss,” he gestures toward him before tucking his hand back in his pocket, “So I guess I’ll see ya Monday, champ.”

Andy chokes on his sip of champagne, you bite back a mean giggle that bubbles in the seat of your chest.

“Now, hate to be rude but, my woman and I are gonna head over to the roulette table,” Steve starts, beginning to move you over to the next room with him, “Unless — you know, unless you’d care to join us. You feelin’ lucky?”

Andy’s face has gone red, eyebrows sloped down, a prominent wrinkle forming on his forehead. His friends look into their drinks, coughing and shifting awkwardly while they watch the exchange.

“No?” Steve asks, a slight taunt to his voice. Andy shakes his head no, “Ah well, suit yourself, I guess. Say bye, angel.”

Steve nudges you with his shoulder and you burn under the instruction, lifting your gaze to Andy who looks like he could maul Steve at any second, “Bye, Andy,” you mutter, your voice trailing higher than normal.

“See you around, man. Next time I catch ya, I'll give you the number to my tailor,” Steve's eyes linger on the hem of Andy's trousers -- sloppy and too long for him. He let's out a soft 'hm' before meeting Andy's gaze and shooting him a wink with a steely grin. Steve leads you out of the chip exchange by the small of your back, passing you another glass of champagne.

“Drink that before you say whatever smart thing you wanna say,” he says, hand dropping from your back to clasp with yours while he leads you through the throngs of people to the roulette table.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you lie.

“Pfft, okay,” he shakes his head in front of you, but you don’t need to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. You arrive at the edge of the table, oak wood bumping into your hip.

“I’m not much of a gambler,” you confess, taking your places around the table closer to the wheel. He kisses your cheek before taking your chin between his fingers gently.

“You thought I’d have you dropping your own cash here? That’s cute,” he teases with his voice low enough so the other players couldn't hear, “Daddy’s gonna gamble, baby. You’re just gonna watch.”

“Steve,” you blush, “Don’t say that.”

“I don't know,” he shrugs coolly while placing his chips, turning back to you when he's done, "I think you like when I say that."

He wins big at roulette, of course he does. He's Steve Harrington.

Now he has you nestled on his lap while he plays black jack, your hips and thighs spilling over the leg you're perched on. Everyone's drunk so no one cares that you're not supposed to do that, as long as your hands are in view of the dealer. It's not a real casino anyway.

His breath hits that spot between your neck and shoulder that makes you squirmy, hips rolling achingly slow on his thigh when he does it. You have half a mind to think he's doing it on purpose.

"Watch yourself, angel," he mumurs, placing a hand firmly on your hip to steady you, "Don't want you to fall."

You watch him play, him and his colleagues, some men he doesn't know -- they're betting real big. Big enough that you had the pleasure of holding two more racks of chips for him while the other two were stacked on the table in front of you.

The three other men have either had too many or are sitting between 12 and 16 in their cards. He has fourteen in front of him, a jack, a three of hearts, and an ace. You watch him tap the table to hit and then double down, you gulp. A fourteen thousand dollar bet, and it's just chump change to most of the guys down here.

The dealer hits, a seven of clubs slapping down on the table. "Blackjack."

He smirks and the table claps while the dealer expertly slides over $35,000 in chips which you load dutifully onto the empty racks on the table next to you.

"Really got lady luck on your side tonight, huh Harrington?" the older man next to him asks. You feel Steve's hand clap your thigh.

"Actually, she's on my lap," he smiles and you flush at his teasing, listening to them talk while the dealer shuffles for the next round. His hand slides over your thigh and he talks to the guys at the table like he's not driving you insane when he toys when the hem of your dress.

"Can I get anyone a drink?" a waitress asks the table. You turn to Steve while the men start to order, some glasses of wine, some full bottles of liquor.

"Get whatever you want, honey," he says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. The waitress looks to you expectantly and you smile. It's probably the first non-horny smile she's gotten all night.

"Can I get a bottle of Dom for the table, please?" you ask, "The earliest vintage you have."

You were pushing your luck -- but you were at a blackjack table. He squeezes your thigh and you squeal under his touch while the dealer starts the game.

"Didn't know my girl was so greedy," he teases in your ear. Your lip quirks.

"M'not really your girl, Stevie," you whisper back.

"No?" he murmurs back to you, hand skimming your dress up the side of your thigh, "Spending my money like you are."

You blush hard, he loves how easy it is to fluster you once you've had a few. Still lucid, less tightly wound. He liked when you loosened up for him, when you relaxed into his touch with all these people around.

The Dom comes and the waitress starts pouring glasses, Steve gets the bill and shoots you a look when you go to peer over the leather.

"Don't be rude, baby," he tuts, tilting it away from you. There were way too many numbers in the total for a bottle of champagne.

"Sorry, Steve," you mumble while he passes the waitress his credit card with the bill. The champagne is dry and heavenly and your smile when you take the first sip makes all the money he paid worth it.

"You like it?" he asks, attention going back to the game.

"Mhmm," you nod into your next sip.

"Good," he smiles, "Have another bottle at home we can break into later."

Home. Oh. He wants you to go home with him. Was that the plan? Were you following through with the fake date thing the whole time? All night?

"Hm," is all you reply. He keeps winning big -- but you're really the only thing he's betting on.

It's starting to get a little late and the party is picking up. All the screens in the casino have Dick Clark on, the big party on the other side of town is ramped up to eleven.

Steve holds your hand at the chip exchange, the manager and two security guards stand by while they stack bundles of cash for Steve. You know the short set of bands is more money than you've ever seen in your life, it almost makes you nervous.

"This isn't gonna fit in my money clip, angel, can I borrow your purse?" he asks sweetly. Your purse isn't huge, but it can fit the money in it.

"Uh, um, yeah," you say, you mouth running dry while he puts at least forty grand in your bag.

"Thank you, baby," he smiles, the booze affecting his grin. You let him lead, taking you out of the casino and back upstairs to the ball room. There are people everywhere, but more importantly, there is food.

You both don't even think about it, manuevering to the buffet in silence, giggling while you load up plates with obscure hors d'oeuvres and different types of bread and dessert. You sit at the table, barely talking while you eat, but stealing glances at each other.

"I think this is octopus, try it for me and tell me," he says, holding out a small sauteed tentacle on a cracker with avocado.

"I'm not trying it for you!" you laugh, "Try it for yourself. Don't be such a wimp."

"C'mon, just try it for me, tell me if it's good," he smiles, leaning his chin on his other hand to watch you. He pushes the cracker further towards your mouth and you give in, lettling him pop the bite sized morsel into your tongue. His fingertips brush your lips and he swallows, adams apple bobbing slowly against his collar.

"Definitely octopus," you nod.

"You're so brave," he says dreamily, fingertip booping against your nose.

"Okay weirdos, enough with your fake date, let's go dance," Robin's voice booms from a couple tables over while she walks towards you. She grabs both of your hands to lead you to the crowded dance floor. The live band plays fast jazz and the three of you make up what you can to it. Robin really taking the prize for most creative dance moves.

"Is she okay?" Steve asks, giving you a little spin. You look at her and back at him, nodding.

"Yeah, she'll sleep good tonight," you let him lead, arm wrapped around your waist. The music slows and he hums to himself, pulling you closer.

"This is nice," his voice is warm and low, "This is what I wanted all night."

"To dance with me?" you ask softly. He nods, a bashful smile curling up his lips, glasses slipping a little down the slope of his nose. You push them up gently, putting your arms back around his neck.

"I really like dancing with you," he whispers, noses close to brushing each other.

"Thanks."

His bashful smile turns to a tight one, "Look, I'm sorry about the fiance and boyfriend stuff with Carl and Andy. That was outta line, I shouldn't have said all that shit."

"It's okay," you assure, but he's not done talking.

"I'm sorry if I've been laying it on too thick all night," he says apologetically, "Got too committed to the part, I guess."

"S'fine Steve," you say, looking up at him, "It's just pretend."

Hurt flashes in his eyes, brows softening when you say it.

"Yeah...it's just pretend," he mutters. He loosens his hold on your waist and you can tell he's embarrassed. You can feel his hands become clammy over the fabric of your dress, skidding against the satin while they move.

A woman gets to the center of the stage, a beautiful 40s gown clinging tight to her curves while she grips the microphone. The opening words of Ella Fitzgerald's, 'What're you Doing New Years Eve' , starts with the band.

"Aw, you don't hear this song a lot," you smile, "My dad loved this song."

"Yeah?" he asks. He takes a deep breath, looking at the other couples getting close, nuzzling, kissing. Diamond rings dazzling in the light, wedding bands glinting in his eyes.

"C'mere," he says, reinvigorated to keep up the charade. His arm snakes all the way around you, chest to chest, his other hand holding yours. He rests his forehead against yours, moving slow with you to the music, the instrumental lulling you both into the fantasy you both created.

Steve had such a way of making it feel like it was just the both of you.

'Maybe it's much too early in the game, Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same, What are you doing New Year's, New Year's eve?'

"It's a pretty song," he says.

"Yeah," you agree, lost in how he looks at you.

'Maybe I'm crazy to suppose, I'd ever be the one you chose, Out of the thousand invitations you received.'

You rest your head on his chest while the horns solo, the hand on your waist trailing up to brush your hair and cup your face.

"Hey, look at me," his voice is quiet, "Wanna see your pretty face, Manhattan."

"I look tired," you complain, looking back up at him with a scrunch of your nose. His thumb slides over your cheek bone.

"You look perfect," he confesses.

'Ah, but in case I stand one little chance, Here comes the jackpot question in advance, What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?'

"Hey Nat," he starts.

"Mhm?"

"What if it --" he lets out a breath through his nose, "What if it wasn't pretend?"

"What?"

10!

"What if we didn't have to pretend?" he asks, "What if we just...what if we just were each other's real dates? Cause like --"

"Steve, come on."

"You can't pretend like this doesn't feel right," he pleads, "Like this doesn't feel real."

"Steven, I told you this morning--"

"Baby, I haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me at the office," he confesses, "Thinking about how to change your mind. I want you so bad, Nat. You have no fucking idea."

"I'm just the only person to tell you no," you assure, "That's the only reason you want me."

"No, I promise that's not it," he urges, both of his hands cupping your cheeks while he talks. The cheering getting louder around you at the clock ticks closer to midnight.

"You're not gonna want this after a month of you being here. Look at everyone around you Steve -- I don't fit in here," you say, "Don't you want a trophy wife? Someone who everyone gawks over?"

"Have you seen yourself?" he asks, eyes wild, "Had to walk behind you all night so all these guys would stop staring at you."

"Steve you're just...settling," you finally say it and it feels like a weight has floated off your chest, "This was the opposite of what you came to New York for."

"Settling? Are you stupid?"

"You wanted to do something new and exciting," you counter.

"You are new and exciting," he can't believe the words coming out of your mouth, "You are why I wanted to be here. I wanted to do something new with you."

"I've been sitting in Hawkins for the last five years thinking about how much fun you're having out here. Thinkin' about how much fun we could have together -- haven't stopped fucking thinking about you since the night I met you in Porter's."

"You're just saying that," you argue, lump growing in your throat, "You're just drunk."

"I'm not just saying that, please just listen to me" he pleads, "Fuck Nat, I --"

"I love you."

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Silver and gold metallic confetti pours from the ceiling, your breath hitches while it glitters on it's way down.

"I love you so much, it hurts," he confesses, eyes shining behind his frames, "I just -- I think I loved you the whole time."

Your mouth falls open against his hold on your cheeks.

"You don't have to say it back, I--"

You stop his sentence with your lips against his. The kiss he wanted to give you all night. It feels like an old movie kiss with with way his arms wrap tight around your back and waist and your hands meet his face.

He breaks away from you for a moment, locking his eyes with yours.

"I really mean it," he murmurs, "I love you."

"I --," his eyes linger on yours, your cheeks heat up, "Steve."

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

He knew it. God, he fucking knew it.

The lock clicks and he checks it once, twice, three times before caging you in against the wall. There weren't any families here so it's not like anyone was looking to use the bathroom with a changing table. Everyone was using the lounge bathroom for coke anyway.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he gasped into your mouth, "You're so fucking pretty."

"Thanks," you breath against his kiss. His lips trail from your mouth down your jaw, lips sliding down your neck to your chest. His tongue is warm and wet on your skin and you sigh up to the ceiling at the feel of it.

He manhandles you at the sound, arms overtaking you to shove the complimentary products on the sink's counter and throw you onto it. You look at him with swollen lips from his kiss, eyes begging. He grabs your hand to press it firmly up against his erection, staring down at you down the slope of his nose, “That’s how you got me all night, lookin' at me like that. Wearin' this dress -- what's wrong with you, hm?”

"S'wrong with me?" you slur, dragging your hand back over his cock without his guidance, "S'wrong with you? This suit fitting you so nice, that stupid fancy watch?"

"Stupid? My Patek?" he laughs, "It was nine grand, don't call it stupid."

"You're disgusting," you spit, but it doesn't have the bite you can normally dish. The way he lingers over you makes you lose your edge.

"Mmm, love when you're a little mean," he groans while he buries his face in your neck, reaching for the hair at the nape of it, tugging just enough to make your thighs twitch, "Get to watch you get so nice for me."

You feel his lips drag over your sensitive skin, pulling it in between his teeth to bite down. He takes in your scent, grunting into your jaw while the perfume he likes rules his senses. He's rough, hungry. He's a little drunk, but so are you.

You thighs part to make room for him, ass nearly hanging off the counter while his hips press into you. You run a hand through his silky hear while he assaults your neck, eyes reeling when he hits that spot right past the base.

"You all wet?" he asks in your ear, gravelly voice booming in your chest. His hand skates up your fleshy inner thigh, heat greeting him like an old friend.

"I'm so wet, Steve," you whine back, pushing your hips against his fingertips while he strokes over your satin covered clit.

"Yeah, you're so wet for me?" he mocks, "I got you all worked up out there?"

"Y-yeah," you whimper while his fingers toy with your panty line, inching inward. He's smug when he feels what's waiting for him behind the fabric.

"Showing you off all night? Throwin' all my cash around?" he growls, a finger sliding in between your legs, "Givin' it all to you to hold on to? That got you all hot and bothered?"

"Y-yes, yeah," you nod, biting your lip to keep quiet.

"Oh-ho baby, they can't hear you out there -- party's gettin' a little rowdy," he teases, "Go ahead an' moan for me."

A second finger follows his first and you start whimpering with every thrust, every flick of his wrist. You grip the counter, skirt of your dress falling back as your thighs lift up and out involuntarily.

"Steve," you moan it like a prayer, it echos back at you, "Shit, fuck, just like that."

"Good girl, baby," he grins, more so when your hips rock in time with his fingers, "Oh, you showin' off now?"

"Sh-shut up, Steve," you chuckle between gasps, face crumpling again while he grazes your g-spot with his fingers. Your walls grip him, gushing over his knuckles. A lazy smile falls onto your face while your hips pick it's rhythm with his fingers.

"Love when you smile like that for me," he says softly, pressing a kiss against your lips -- the facade of your rich, sexy, big money fuck toy falling away, back to his Hawkins beginnings, "You look so beautiful."

"You think I'm beautiful?" you tease against his lips, but you know the answer.

"Don't think it, I know it," he whispers between pecks.

He takes out his wallet with his free hand, flipping it open, using his nimble fingers to pull out the condom he'd kept in there tonight just in case. His other fingers ease out of you slowly, tossing you a stern look when you whine.

"Be patient, pl-- Jesus, baby," he melts when you take his fingers, still shining with your slick, directly into your mouth. You make a big show of letting them leave your mouth with a wet pop, his mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused.

"Just wanted to clean up my mess," you say with an innocent shrug.

"You're gonna kill me," he breathes out, sliding the condom on and tossing the wrapper to his feet. Your legs part immediately, skirt of your dress falling way with your thighs, the roll of your tummy poking out to the cool air as you hold your legs up close to your chest.

"You're okay? You want this?" he asks, "I know you had a few."

"I want this," you nod, "I want it."

"Good, cause it's yours," he grins, gliding the tip down from your clit to your entrance, "S'all yours."

"All mine," you whine, sighing high and breathy while the tip breaches inside. Your hips roll instinctively to feel more of him and he obliges, pushing in a third of the way to feel you make room for him. The moan you let out makes him bite his lip. You feel so good around him.

"Who fills you up like me, huh?" he pants while he pulls out and pushes back in, gripping the fat of your thighs hard enough to bruise. "No one, Steve," you moan back, while he rocks against you, "P-please more, please." His lips fall open when you ask, "More, huh? You want all of it?"

You nod feverishly, gripping his shoulders, nails nearly ripping the fabric of his dress shirt as you pull him by the hips. He laughs, locking his hips in place where only half of him was snugly inside you. He adjusts his glasses, peering at your through them, "Say please again, angel." "Please, Stevie," you beg, hips shimmying. He tutts at you, pushing a little farther in and a whine peals through you.

"Like that?" he asks, "You want a little more?"

"Please, please, please," you huff, the stretch of him slowly moving in driving your eyes to the back of your head. The bulbous tip creeping past your g-spot unbearably slow -- juices seeped out of you over him.

"Please, please, please. All that whining, think this is all you can handle angel," he mocks gently, hand cupping your cheek. His thumb grazes over your lip while he starts his thrusts again -- half way to all the way out.

"No, no, all of it, please," you grovel, "Please. It's mine."

You bite your lip, eyes watering while the pleasure builds below your belly -- you're aching for the fullness of him.

Your eyes round in neediness, overtaken by the wetness between your legs, the way he touches you, "Please, daddy." "Fuck, baby," he groans while he pushes in to the hilt, lips finding yours while he readjusts. His arm reaches around your back to angle you differently, caging you in against the mirror on the wall. His other hand snakes up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep kiss, all deep breaths and tongue. Steve's hips roll against yours, shallow thrusts to keep himself as buried inside of you as possible, "See what happens when you — mmm — ask me nicely?" You roll your eyes but he thrusts again and your head lolls back against the mirror, “Sh-shut up, you’re so— you’re so — ah! oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m so what? We’re you gonna say ‘I’m so annoying’?" he grins into another kiss. You can feel his tip pushing against your cervix with every short thrust. Your body stretched around him with ease, making you gasp with every thrust of his hips, “M’so deep you can’t even talk right.”

He presses his forehead against yours, eyes shut tight while sweat builds on his forehead, "Oh shit, shit you feel so good."

"Harder, please," you whisper. He nods against you, picking up the pace of his thrusts and he has to cover your mouth to drown own the sounds coming out of you.

"Shh, shh, not too loud baby," he giggles, "Don't wanna lose my job."

You take a deep breath through your nose, trying to maintain your composure while you pulse tighter and tighter around him.

"Steve you...oh my god, yes, yes, like that," you slur out while he holds you steady on the counter, watching you come undone around him. "Say you're mine," he says, grunting between thrusts, "Say you're all mine."

"M'all yours Steve, all yours," you nod, eyes pooling with tears as each thrust sends you closer to seeing white, "Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm gonna cum, ohmygod m'gonna cum."

"Cum for me angel," he says through gritted teeth, getting close himself, "Cum for me."

Your legs vibrate when he pulls your hair to bare your neck to him, final thrusts sending blinding pleasure through your body. You shake and spasm beneath him, whining and mewling at the come down.

"That's it, baby," he coos while you gasp back to reality, "That's my girl." He buries his face in your neck when his hips stutter, groaning, gripping your legs so hard you know you'll bruise.

"Mmm, god," he grunts, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna -- oh, baby --"

You both rest against eachother, breathing heavy, hands roaming. He pulls out slowly while he softens, discarding the used condom in the trash. You go to move but he stops you, pulling up his briefs and pants and cleaning you up gently.

"You okay?" he asks, "That felt good?"

You nod, "Was it good for you?"

"Bathroom sex with my girlfriend? Oh, amazing," he smiles, helping you down off the counter.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"Do you wanna be called something else? I'll call you anything you want," he bushes, "S'long as you're my girl, Manhattan."

"You're girl," you muse, "Steve Harrington's girl."

"Sounds really good, doesn't it?" he tosses you a cool look, "Lot's a girls would beg for that title."

"You're annoying," you huff, opening the door to the bathroom and peeking outside to check for people. The coast was clear and he leads you out to the hallway by the hand, heading over to the coat check.

"We're going home?" you ask.

"We're going to yours," he says.

"Why?"

"So we can start packing up your shit to bring to mine tomorrow morning."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x readder #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve stranger things

678 notes · View notes

thewolvesof1998 · 7 months

Text

Fuck it Friday

tagged by the wonderful @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @try-set-me-on-fire @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @loserdiaz @theotherluciferr @wikiangela @your-catfish-friend

Here's a continuation of The Heatwave Fic - Previous - and we're going to ignore that I spent last night and today working on another new fic (that's three new ones this week folks) that I'm calling the Motorcycle fic and I might show what inspired it tomorrow so 👀...

Buck hums and leans over until his face is as close to Eddie’s as he can get, he stops breathing as Buck looks up to where he is still pointing. “Oh yeah,” Buck says, turning back towards Eddie until his lips almost touch his cheek, “I can see it.” His breath fans across Eddie’s face and it takes everything in him to not turn his head and capture those lips in a kiss. “Eds” Buck breathes, the nickname has his eyes meeting Buck’s, there’s something in those blue orbs that Eddie’s not sure he’s brave enough to name. His traitorous eyes flicker down to that chest again, to the faint flush of red and the fine layer of sweat that’s been a constant in this heat. It’s disgusting but he wants to taste it, lick it- He shoves the thought from his mind, though the image lingers longer than it should for a dirty thought about his best friend but he blames that on how the heat has turned time into a thick immeasurable sludge. “Eddie.” His eyes meet Buck’s again, he wonders if Buck can read the terrible thoughts circling around his head, if he’s as obvious as he feels. Buck would be kind about it, ignore it or maybe even just mention ‘how he’s such a good friend’ but he doesn’t want to put Buck in that awkward position. But that's the thing, Eddie doesn’t want to be just the best friend anymore. He wants more. He’s wanted more for a while now if he’s being honest with himself but he can’t ruin what they have. Buck has been his touchstone since moving to LA, not being able to talk to or see him for those few months during the lawsuit had been hell and knowing what it was like to live in a world without Buck for a whole three minutes and seventeen seconds a few months back had nearly broken Eddie. He wouldn’t, couldn’t risk it. He clears his throat, “Yeah?” “Can you…can you just touch me already?”

No pressure tagging: @eddiediaztho @king-buckley @forthewolves @ladydorian05 @alyxmastershipper @disasterbuckdiaz @bekkachaos @911onabc @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @buddierights @watchyourbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @cowboy-buddie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @sammy-souffle

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #thewolvesof1998 writes #wip #fuck it friday #the heatwave fic #buddie smut #fic: even when the heat breaks i'm still yours

93 notes · View notes

crusty-chronicles · 9 months

Text

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 10: Into The Thick Of It

Synopsis: Congratulations, you've just entered the NGL!!!! A place of isolation and now Chimera Ants 😃 Your first task, try not to break down and snap with all the bodies you come across. Good luck and may you keep your promises🤝

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

You weren't too happy to say the least. Once again, you had all piled into a jeep that was much too small for the amount of people riding in it. Smooshed in the front with Kite and the driver while the others were elbow to elbow in the back.

On the bright side, you didn't have to worry about being drooled on. But you did have to deal with two very pouty boys who weren't happy about the new seating arrangement.

"Why can't one of us just sit on your lap?" Gon suggested.

"Kid, I'm not a chair. And it's stuffy already with just three of us in the front. No way in hell I'm having another person next to me and one more on my lap." You were quick to shoot the idea down.

"Then sit in the back with us." Killua said, scooching over to make room.

But there was no way you were gonna sit in the back with four more people.

Nope.

Not in this heat.

"You two can last one car ride without me. You're big boys, aren't you?"

A huff of irritation from the small assassin and a grumble from the boy in green.

To your surprise, a certain silver haired hunter decided to join in on the banter.

"Don't worry. I promise to take good care of them up here for you."

And the small, offended gasps from the two of them was enough to make you laugh. A bit of peace before the inevitable descent into the NGL.

So pouty and upset, they begrudgingly sat in the back. Not without making sure to poke you every now and then, just to get you to turn around.

The ride itself wasn't too bad with the driver making idle conversation.

"You heading to the NGL, huh? You know they believe that the best way to live is as naturally as possible."

Ah yes, you all totally didn't do any research whatsoever before coming here.

You really shouldn't give him any shit for that. He was just trying to help fill the silence. It's not like many people visited this place anyways. So to him, it was probably strange to see ten people asking to go all at once.

"They're pretty weird for living out there, but you folks are even weirder for wanting to visit em'."

Before you could question him on that, he continued on.

"I don't have a clue what's going on there, but I've already driven in about 10 big groups just like you guys today alone."

Perhaps more hunters who heard the news of a giant Chimera Ant? Still, ten groups of people? It was strange.

"Did you say ten?!?" Gon exclaimed, popping up from his seat behind you.

"That's right," the driver confirmed.

You, however, were a little concerned with something else.

"Seatbelt!" You scolded.

"Oh, right! Sorry." A small 'click' sounded off.

God, you really were starting to sound like a parent. What were you, Safety Sal? You really should stop babying them.

"So if most of the other groups are already arriving, then we're among the last." Kite noted, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.

"At least we'll have some help," you mumbled.

Oh how wrong you were.

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

They weren't kidding about the nature part. The entrance to the NGL itself was a pathway between two giant trees. You could sense people moving about inside them. A river separating the two territories.

A beautiful sight if you had to say. But there was that nagging feeling reminding you of how strict these people could be. Well, the government they had.

"Prepare yourselves everyone," Kite warned.

"The ants are a concern, but the NGL isn't the eco-friendly group it claims to be."

Right, the drugs. And where there were illegal drugs, there were probably illegal crime bosses. Thank goodness you didn't have to deal with that type of hell growing up.

Approaching the first tree, you already didn't like the men that greeted your group there. Smiles fake and disingenuous. Auras gross with deceit and annoyance.

"May I ask what brings you here?" Defensive too. About their people or secrets, you couldn't tell.

"We're on a hunt." Kite stated before continuing.

"A biohazard-class insect might have infiltrated your country."

The man let out a hum before answering.

"Well, if you're professional hunters, I'm certain you're aware that we cannot deny you entry into our land."

Ah yes. You were all totally hunters. Yup. Each and every one of you. Bonafide hunters.

You thanked whatever greater being was up there that nobody had outed you.

"Right this way." One of the men turned around and led your group in.

Like you expected, the Big Wigs in charge didn't enforce their rules onto themselves. Inside were various people typing away on computers. And if you had to guess why, it was most likely due to a loophole.

"Wait, you're using computers and machines here?" Killua confronted.

"We are not technically within the bounds of the NGL proper yet." One of the men answered.

And there it was. Five seconds and you already decided you despised this place.

"This area is used for diplomacy and trading information."

Diplomacy???? Didn't they communicate through letters??? And what other country would they be feuding with to need diplomacy? Weren't they isolated?

One look at this guy's aura and you could tell he was lying. Still, it would do nobody any good to call out their hypocrisy. You'd just have to suck it up and let it go.

"I see. Are there similar facilities within?" Kite questioned.

"No sir, not a single one. No machines of any kind are allowed inside the borders of the NGL." One of the guys answered.

"Of course, visitors aren't allowed to bring technology in with them either. We're very strict about that kind of thing." Another spoke up.

Wow, it was almost like they killed someone over that exact thing. Who would've thought?

God you hated primitive societies. Your respect was dwindling by the seconds.

"Which means you must remove metals, petroleum derived materials, and the like. Anything of that nature on your person before you can enter." The same man informed.

So long shitty sneakers and hello paper thin shoes.

"D-d-do you mean l-like my glasses!?!" Lin asked.

A shit eating grin on the man's face. Like he was purposely trying to get rid of as much people as he could with technicalities.

"That's right. If your clothes, belts, shoes, even your underwear contain any plastic, chemicals, or metal, you must remove them." He said eyeing the two girls.

"That isn't funny!" Spin snapped.

"You want us to strip naked!?!"

You stood protectively in front of the boys, sending a glare towards the man. Would you kill him depending on his answer?

Yes, yes you would.

"That's not necessary. All-natural clothing is available for purchase just upstairs." He said pointing to a small staircase.

You should have guessed they would've been money hungry. How else would they be able to afford all this nice stuff while their people suffered beyond the bend.

"And if there are any implants inside your body, dental implants, for example, made of gold, silver, or even silicon prosthetics that cannot be removed... I'm sorry to say, but you won't be allowed to enter."

Discriminating, are we? Wow, these guys are even worse than the shit you had to put up with.

"You understand." His smile was fake, aura cocky now that the size of your group was cut in half.

You know what? Maybe you should start rooting for the ants at this point.

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

You were in a bit of a dilemma at the moment.

You'd chosen clothes that were as close to what you were currently wearing as possible. So far so good, right? Welllll, the issue was just how the hell you were going to pay for them.

Truth was, you had not a cent to your name. Not even a flimsy wallet to open and have a fly come out of. Up until now, money had never really been a point of focus. Or at least up until two years ago.

Goddamnit.

You couldn't even afford shit clothes to bypass the NGL restrictions.

Which meant....

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

How pathetic were you.

Unable to afford a basic 'necessity'. How the hell did you plan on taking care of two kids when you couldn't even take care of yourself? It was quite frankly disgraceful.

Unbeknownst to you, curious eyes watched your internal struggle. Everyone else was ready or close to being ready, and there you were clutching a shirt looking like somebody died. Dark circles impossibly darker.

Then he heard it.

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

It immediately put a frown on the small boy's face. Gon just couldn't wrap his head around why you would say a thing like that. You'd all agreed extensively to come, so why were you backing out?

You'd been so adamant about coming, excited even. (Which was rare.) So it didn't make any sense. At least not until you mumbled out something else.

"Maybe I should've been a hunter. Least' then I'd have a few bucks to spare. Damn."

Was that what you were worried about?

You should've just asked.

It's not a big deal anyway. It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of considering he didn't get his first phone until Leorio bought him one. And it's not like him and Killua would say no if you needed help to pay.

The three of you were supposed to stick together. Were supposed to help each other. You were the big sibling and they were the little brothers.

He may not have been as well off as Killua, but he was still a hunter with plenty of funds to spare. Especially since beating Greed Island. If you needed something, he would gladly get it for you. Just like if they needed you, you would always be there.

Before he could pitch the offer, someone else approached you. Someone who he was getting the feeling liked being in your presence as much as you did his.

And Gon wasn't sure he was okay with that yet. But he appreciated someone looking after you. Someone his own father had trusted and now you did as well.

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

"Something wrong?" A familiar voice sounded from behind you.

Realistically, you should've sensed Kite's presence. But the stress of figuring out a way to pay had distracted you from everything else going on.

"Um... No?" Your voice cracked at the end. God, even you knew you didn't sound convincing. Even if you did, Kite could see you. He knew you were hiding something, and you knew that he knew.

It took him all of five seconds to figure out what was wrong. You hadn't made a move to change into NGL appropriate clothing. You were looking down with gears turning in that head of yours. And your aura was upset with disappointment.

You were a stubborn one alright.

"Here." A card was placed in front of you.

Your tired eyes widened. What was he doing? You looked up at him, mouth open and ready to protest because wow.

You didn't like asking for help. Didn't like owing people. Didn't like how they always seemed to expect something back in return for their good deed.

"Don't worry about it. We need all the help we can get, remember?" And you were completely flabbergasted by what Kite said next.

"Don't let a few travel expenses get in your way. Plus I don't think those boys of yours would be too thrilled if you couldn't go."

A smile and a small pat to your back.

"We'll be waiting for you when you're done."

There was no ulterior motive.

He'd done it simply out of the kindness in his heart.

You were not used to that. Not used to others doing things for you. It had warmth spreading across your face and you were glad the others couldn't see you. Getting all embarrassed over something small like this. (It wasn't all that small to you)

"I'll pay you back for this one day."

You'd mumbled it to yourself, but he barely caught it as he descended down where the rest of the group was.

And like before, he wouldn't mention it. But the soft smile he had was a telltale sign he'd heard you all the same.

----------

Your group of ten had dwindled down to six. You and the boys and Kite with Podungo and Stick. Ever a growing pain in your ass, the NGL authorities ran several tests on all of you.

Past the first tree and into the second, where a lady informed the group of what was to take place.

"The inspection area is over there. Of course there's a physical exam, as well as an interview."

Sounded simple enough until she kept talking.

"Then once those are completed, there will also be X-rays, ultrasound, and metal scans."

You hated this place.

"Ultrasound? The hell are they gonna find with that. Surprise, guess who's pregnant?" Your comment was heard by the lady explaining things, who promptly laughed.

"Yes, well you'd be surprised by what we're able to pick up with that."

As long as they were just scans, you supposed it wasn't too outrageous. Now if they started poking and prodding, you'd break a machine or two.

"Security's rather tight," Kite noted.

The lady flicked on a light switch before continuing to speak.

"It is... because people have smuggled guns in by hiding the parts inside their bodies. We often find cameras or cell phones in people's rectums."

Your face scrunched up in disgust. Who the fuck was shoving a gun up their ass???

"Some have even trained animals to carry laptops across the border once they themselves were inside."

Okay now that one made more sense.

After the woman finished explaining, the testing began. Scans of your body and brain were taken. Some blood work was done, much to your dismay. And last but not least, the interview, which mainly consisted of questions about health and any possible criminal background.

It was draining, but you were somewhat glad the boys were fascinated by it. They got to have some fun despite the unusual circumstances.

"Well it looks like all of you are clean." The woman announced.

The same men from earlier were waiting by the exit as you all approached.

"Thank you all for your patience. You may enter now, and godspeed."

"Welcome to the NGL!"

The first thing you noticed was the air. It somehow felt cleaner. The second thing you noticed was the land outstretched before you. It seemed never ending. From the oaks down below to the prairie just before you. It was peaceful. Like home. (But you couldn't really call it that anymore, could you?)

Eagerly, your eyes scanned as far as they would go. So much to see with not enough time to enjoy it. No auras besides the one's next to you. Faint traces from the woodland creatures hiding away. Quiet too, but not eerily so.

Serene was the word for it.

You take it back. The NGL wasn't so bad afterall. Just the people in charge. It had you thinking back to kid with boots five sizes too big and a hand stitched shirt that was falling apart at the seams. A gap-toothed smile as they cartwheeled over an open field, laughing with another like the rest of the world wasn't there.

Your first stop in the NGL was a small barn for suitable transportation. Honestly, you should've known a monetary transaction would be involved. And yet it still surprised you.

12,000 jenny for just one horse. For one day.

You tensed up once more, trying to figure something out. You'd already wasted enough money that wasn't yours. You didn't want to waste anymore.

And yet.....

There was Kite, once again taking the brunt of the expenses.

Not because anyone asked him to.

But because he wanted to.

Justifying it with 'It's not a problem. We need a decent form of travel that won't drain us. Three should be just fine.'

It was mind boggling how nonchalant he was being about this. The same question of why. He didn't gain anything from doing this.

So why?

The same reason he had made you a real promise.

He was a good person.

You were not.

But you would try. You'd pay him back in full if it was one of the last things you ever did. He deserved that much at least.

Upon entering the stable, all of the horses trotted towards Gon and Kite. Neighing and making little content noises. Seems the part about animals liking hunters was true. It was an endearing sight, if you must say.

And that small part of your brain that liked to tease, just couldn't resist.

"Hey Snow White. Leave some horses for the rest of us, will ya?"

A light shade of red consumed Kite's face upon hearing you. The shade darkening as Stick spoke up with a 'Hahaha! I get it!' and Podungo with a 'I've never seen him this embarrassed before.'

You were going to be a distraction. (A pleasant one, albeit.)

You'd approached and lifted Gon up, helping him onto the horse that liked him the most. The other boy following close behind you.

"I'll be taking my dwarf back, thank you." Eyes crinkled with mischief and aura playful as you spoke.

"Yeah, so does that make you the wicked witch or something," Killua directed towards you while you lifted him up.

To which you responded by letting go and dropping him.

"Hey! I was kidding! Y/n don't be mad. Big siiib!"

"Don't you 'big sib' me, young man! And don't think for a second those puppy dog eyes will work on me! They're not nearly as powerful as Gon's!" You lectured with your hands on your hips. Scolding demeanor melting away at the sound of the other boy's voice.

"Please, Y/n. Help Killua." Honey colored eyes staring wide up at you. And he may or may not have done it to see if it was true.

"Gah! I hate it when you two work together against me. You little ghouls." You grumbled, lifting up the small assassin once more. Who seemed very pleased by the outcome.

It was funny in a way. How you could never really say no to Gon. It made him feel special. But he did wonder why. Did he remind you of someone you used to know?

You stared at the horse in front of you, who was already not liking you. And you didn't want to upset it further by attempting to hop on it.

"You've never ridden a horse before?"

You were once again too lost in your thoughts to notice Kite's presence. He was two for two today. In both surprising you and figuring out what was wrong.

"Course' not. Do I look like a cowboy to you?" Not only had you never ridden a horse before, you were also not the best with animals as it would seem.

"You know, I do kinda see it." A teasing grin of his own on the taller male's face. He was starting to get the hang of dealing with you and your smart aleck remarks.

"Har har. Now help me up this thing, Ranger Rick. If I try to get on by myself, I'm 80% sure it'll kill me."

"Only 80?" Kite hoisted you up, and for a split second you were surprised by his strength.

"Gotta give myself a fighting chance. I'm not a complete wimp." You gave a small pat to the top of the horse's head once you were seated.

"Could've fooled me." Kite had effortlessly climbed on behind you. The smell of pine and artificial sweetness filled your senses, the same way the scent of fresh rain filled his.

"Everyone ready!" Kite called out.

A resounding 'yes' from the five of you.

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

It was odd, what you were feeling. When you thought you'd sense a sizable amount of bloodlust, it would be gone in an instant. Making you wonder if it was even there in the first place. And just when you thought you'd managed to sense a person, the aura disappeared.

It didn't help that the NGL was so big. It didn't make things easier for you to assess. And you didn't want to sound the alarm for things that weren't there.

But you were suspicious.

Your eyes were never wrong. Your ability was never wrong. So just what the hell was happening, you couldn't be so sure. Maybe you were having an off day? The things you sensed were far away, too far for you to make an accurate assessment anyways.

Goddamnit.

At least the company was great. Stick and Podungo behind with Gon and Killua next to you. Kite seated behind you with the reins of the horse you dubbed 'Gordy.'

A very thicc boy who had warmed up to you after petting his head a few times.

There was, however, uninvited guests as well. Two 'translators' who as far as you could tell, were lying. They probably wanted to see if your group had managed to smuggle something in.

You could feel unease from Kite the deeper you descended into the NGL. He could probably sense it too. That something was off.

And while you didn't want to disrupt his train of thought, the tension radiating off of him was making your own anxieties flair. It was too early to panic and too early to worry. Nothing solid had been found yet.

So did what you had been wanting to do for a while. Now that his hands were occupied, you made a swipe at his hat, one that he didn't see coming and couldn't really stop.

"Told you I'd take it from you." Your smile was triumphant as you readjusted yourself and plopped his trademark hat on your head.

He was stunned for a second, processing what the hell just happened. Shock replacing the unease.

Did you just?

He looked down at you, noticing your smug expression as you twisted yourself to meet his eye.

"You don't play fair." He said at last.

You'd successfully distracted him once again. A bashful expression on his face.

And now that you could see him properly, an embarrassed one overtook yours as well.

Why was he so pretty?

Unawares of the thoughts going through his mind. The ones that said you looked nice with his hat falling down your face and covering your eyes. A familiar playful smirk right under them.

"Wow, pretty shady under here. I can actually see without the sun burning into my retinas. I hope you know I'm not giving this back."

A huff of amusement was heard.

"You're trouble, you know that?" He shouldn't be letting you distract him like this. He should be focusing on the current task at hand.

And yet, the playfulness from your aura kept pulling him in. Your crooked smile that was quickly becoming a favorite. That he had no idea wasn't there before.

"If I'm so bad, you would've stopped putting up with me at the airship." You did still feel a little guilty about that.

The exchange between the two of you not going unnoticed. A pair of icy eyes glancing over and frowning. Choosing to sit down properly since you hadn't noticed he was standing. Upset at the fact that your attention wasn't focused on him or Gon for once.

Killua was hesitant to let new people into his circle. He and Gon were best friends, and when that girl Ritz had tried to join, he hated it. He didn't like how easily she got along with Gon. Didn't like how he felt inferior in her presence because she was more helpful in 5 minutes than he had been the whole day.

But he was never forgotten or pushed away. Never disregarded. Only feeling insignificant because his family told him he would never have friends. That they would all leave him. But Gon had stayed.

Now there was you. You were a part of that circle now. And back at YorkNew, it was okay. You were happy in a way that was rarely seen. You'd all gotten swept away in the presence of new people. He minded a little, but let it go.

Because Killua was okay with friendship. But he was not okay with whatever this was. The cheeky smiles and blushy faces. He'd joked about it that first day you all met Kite. Teased you for it because he knew it would get on your nerves. But now that it was actually happening....

You'd forget about them if this continued. Leave them behind for him. You'd already refused to sit next to them in that car. You didn't offer to ride with them at the stable. You didn't even ask them for help when you couldn't pay. (Thanks Gon, for filling him in.)

It wasn't fair.

But he knew it wasn't really his decision to make. Wasn't really his place either. You'd already made up your mind the second you made that promise back on the airship.

Well fine. Then this guy would just have to prove himself if he was gonna take you away. And it would take a lot to impress this Zoldyck. Selfish or not, you were his big sibling. The first real one he had. The first good one. If he was being honest, you and Alluka were the only real family he had.

And the off chance you were just being friendly, that you didn't see Kite in any other way, then he'd back down. But the way you would just smile that crooked grin and tell him your secrets, said otherwise. The way Kite had started to subtly check up on you told him otherwise.

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

It'd been hours since you started the search for the Chimera Ant, but there was no luck. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. So begrudgingly, you all stopped to take a break and rethink things.

You joined Gon and Killua on the ground as they figured out alternate routes to take.

"I think we should follow along the coastline and check out all the villages. If we search them and nothing unusual turns up, then it's probably not even in this country." Gon speculated, pointing towards the map of the NGL.

It was optimistic at best to assume the ant wasn't here. Too much didn't add up for you to believe otherwise.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's assuming those guys were telling us the truth back there," Killua said in reference to the men back at the NGL border.

The ones who said they hadn't heard any news about a giant ant. The very same who said that if they had, their people wouldn't care.

Eyes fell on you for confirmation.

"They were not. But it's not like they could really do anything about the situation. Not as long as it didn't directly benefit them." You answered.

"And you didn't pick anything up?" Killua asked.

"It's hard to say and that's what worries me. Things keep appearing and disappearing. And everything I'm getting is very faint."

A beat of silence.

"They're still following us, aren't they?" Gon questioned.

The translators that had followed you here stood a little ways away from the expedition team. You thought they would've quit by now.

"Unfortunately. But try to ignore them, okay?" You gave a ruffle to his hair, feeling his mood lighten a little.

"They say they're here in case we meet unknown tribes and need interpreters or intermediaries. But they're obviously spies." Killua grumbled.

"My guess is they're hoping to catch us with technology so they can kick us out." Or execute you, but you wouldn't put that idea into their heads.

You sensed a familiar calm aura approach. You were glad you caught it this time, not wanting to be caught off guard for the third time today.

"Well I never expected the people here to be of any help," Kite admitted, catching the attention of both boys.

"But my instincts are saying... it's here somewhere." The three of you tensed at his words.

"And how accurate would you say your instincts are?" You lightly challenged. You didn't want to push, but you didn't exactly like the odds of anything that was less than certain. Not in this scenario.

"As accurate as those eyes of yours."

Damn.

You were starting to have a bad feeling about this.

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

The six of you were back traveling on a rocky path. There was nothing you could do besides continue on, hoping for a lead since Kite had been so sure.

Another flicker of aura before it disappeared. Too far to tell if you were imagining things. But a sick feeling settling in your stomach said differently.

You couldn't tell if people were being killed or knocked out. Woken up or being born. Couldn't exactly see how many there were. Your eyes were becoming strained the more you pushed, so you eventually gave up.

You leaned back onto Kite who, surprisingly, made no move to take his hat back. A part of you was satisfied by the fact. The bigger part of you, however, was concerned.

He was serious now that his suspensions were confirmed. But underneath the calm, was a festering worry. Safe to say you both felt everything was not what it seemed.

You chose to divert your attention elsewhere, for the time being. Opting to check up on the others. Gon's aura was determined as always. He was okay. Killua's was starting to radiate unease. But the leading emotion was confidence. He was okay.

Podungo and Stick were nervous, and you couldn't really blame them. From what Kite had told you, they weren't the best at combat. If you did manage to confront a Chimera Ant, things wouldn't go so well for them. However, you could feel their trust as well. Trust that was most likely directed at Kite's ability to keep them safe.

You didn't bother with the two translators tailing the group. They weren't worth the effort. They hadn't necessarily done anything wrong, but their intentions were clear as day.

You sighed and focused your tired eyes up ahead. A nap was very much needed.

'Zzzzz!'

That noise...

It was loud.

And heading right towards your group.

Your face scrunched up at the small swarm of bees. They had traces of nen on them. How bizarre. Did they belong to a Chimera Ant?

Not likely.

There were no traces of malice or bloodlust. Just frightened desperation.

A scared nen user?

"Stop."

Your command had everyone reaching for their horse's reins. Your tone was one that left no room for argument.

The bees in question came closer, small bundles of paper clutched in their little arms. You could feel sadness from them.

Could insects be sad?

It seemed like it as they dropped the folded paper into Kite's hand, then one in Gon's. Kite opened up the small letter in front of you.

He leaned over your shoulder to read the message, aura growing heavy with tension.

'H E L P! C H I ME R A AN T N E S T

R o C K Y AR E A

N O TI F Y H u N T ER A S S Oc I A T I On!'

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you finished reading.

It was red ink, you told yourself. Just red ink. (Pens were not allowed in the NGL)

A hand reached for yours, folding your fingers to make signs.

'Not good. Dangerous. Can you three handle it?'

You were grateful for the temporary distraction this silent conversation gave. You didn't want to dwell on the 'red ink' for much longer.

'No backing out. My boys are strong. Can handle it. Ask yourself.'

Your signs were faster, but there was a noticeable tremor with your movements. And he briefly wondered what the cause of it was. You weren't scared, were you?

Kite would leave it for now. No point in putting more stress onto whatever had you feeling that way. So, he glanced over at the two boys who were watching with keen interest at your interaction.

"It'll be risky." He warned.

"You sure you wanna come along?"

The image of a small family torn apart because of hubris. He didn't want to see that. So Kite would confirm as many times as it took until he was convinced the outcome wouldn't happen. That these boys were tough and wouldn't die. That you would be strong enough to protect them and look after yourself.

"Yeah."

"We're professionals, aren't we?"

You were right. Those boys didn't hesitate to give their answer. Resolve that almost mirrored your own in their eyes.

It would be enough, for now.

"Miss translator, I'm sorry. But we really must hurry." Kite informed one of the uninvited guests.

A small smirk made its way into your face at the implication of his words. Maybe just this once you'd show off.

"I'm sure the horses can gallop a bit faster if it's necessary." The translator offered.

"Sorry, sweetheart." You said as you dismounted from Gordy.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to go on foot for this one. Sturdy as they are, the horses won't nearly be fast enough."

You walked over to Gon and Killua and helped them down. Both of them grinning up at you in anticipation.

You could hear Kite from behind you address Podungo and Stick. Letting them know to meet up with the rest of his team and inform the Hunter Association.

You could feel the fondness from his aura harden as he turned to face you three.

"Keep up or I'll leave you behind." Kite warned, who was surprised to see the boys already stretching.

"Yup, and right back at you." Killua said.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Gon added.

All three of you looking smug, like there was a secret just between the three of you. And there was. One that was sure to leave the silver haired hunter speechless.

You might've been a little rusty, but damnit if you weren't competitive. Especially with your little sun and moon egging you on.

"Ha! Watch it, princess. You're the one who's gonna have to keep up." Your aura was cocky.

Were you challenging him?

"Boys, what's step 3 of my ability?"

"Speed!!!!" They cheered as they finished stretching.

"Heck Yeah! So how's about I give you a head start? Let's see the progress you've both made since Greed Island!"

"I bet you'll have to use your nen this time!"

"Yeah! We won't make it easy for you to keep up!"

You crouched down to their level with a wide grin.

"Oh yeah? Tell ya what, if I can't catch up to you guys, then I'll carry you anywhere you want for a whole week."

"Deal!"

Kite watched the interaction a little flabbergasted. You were testing the boys at a time like this? No, that wasn't right. You were playing with them in a way that felt like training.

Giving incentives for them to do better.

How completely odd.

But he couldn't deny the way your interactions with the boys had him softening.

'They'll grow on you.'

Yeah. All three of you were growing on him. Ging's son, the Zoldyck boy, and their protector.

"Let's go!" Kite took off with the boys hot on his trail. But not before stealing back his signature hat while you were distracted.

You let out a protest of 'Hey!' as they shrank away from your line of sight.

Their speed was decent, but not enough to give you any real trouble. You'd have to use nen. Just a smidge though. A damn shame. You were hoping to break in a good sweat.

You'd give them five more seconds to leave your base line of vision. You crouched down in a starting position, letting nen coat your legs for the first time in months. (Thanks for that Razor)

"You're not worried about them?" Kite questioned the duo.

"About Y/n? You've got a lot to learn about them." There was pride in Killua's aura as he answered.

"They're so fast, that even Genthru couldn't land a single hit with their leg broken." Gon bragged.

Both boys seemed to light up at the thought of you. Well your prowess, more like. But there was a swell of affection in their aura as well.

They really loved you, didn't they?

Kite's thoughts were cut short by a blur zooming by. A familiar tired presence accompanying it.

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

You could smell it before you saw it. A metallic coppery stench that stopped you in your tracks. All mirth gone from your expression. Like your very soul was taken from your body.

You didn't know exactly what was beyond the clearing, but you knew it wasn't good. You expected the possibility, but you didn't expect to come across it so soon. You weren't too sure if you were prepared mentally for whatever lied ahead.

You could sense three familiar auras approach, having caught up at last. Temporarily unaware of the sight they were about to see.

"Ah damnit, they beat us here!" Killua whined.

"I thought we really had them this ti- Y/n? Are you okay?" Concern quickly replacing the bright expression on Gon's face.

Your demeanor was stiff. Head hanging low and hands clenched. You didn't say anything, just pointed forwards.

What could you even say?

It was then that the scent of blood finally reached their noses. Kite was the first to enter the clearing, not wanting to waste anymore time if it was the worst-case scenario.

Killua was second, casting a regretful glance towards you before he left. There was nothing he could do that would make things easier for you.

Gon was the last, not wanting to leave you by yourself in case something happened. Your limits were understood and respected. He wouldn't push you to see if you didn't want to. And if you needed a moment to gather yourself before heading forwards, then you would have it. So he waited a little longer before Killua called out to him.

Disgust, shock, and anger.

Very different reactions you were sensing from each of them. Seems you were right to hang back. And yet, there was this nagging feeling telling you this wasn't right. You shouldn't be sitting back like a coward.

You had a job to do: track down the ants.

And no matter what, you had to follow through. You didn't want to be a burden. Didn't want to hold anyone back. There were temporary solutions to your little problem that would be wise to exploit right about now.

So you closed your eyes as you stepped forward, heading where the scent of blood was strongest.

You were used to the dark. Senses attuned to navigate it. And it wasn't like you would be completely lost, so long as you could sense the aura of the others. It would be enough to lead you for now.

"This is a bullet casing." You recognized the voice as Killua's.

"But I thought anything mechanical was forbidden here, isn't it?" It was Gon who spoke up next, aura radiating anger.

"Just because it's forbidden, doesn't mean it's impossible for things like this to exist here." Your tense demeanor hadn't changed, but you were there nonetheless. The feeling of eyes on you as you emerged from the underbrush.

"And it means the underground rulers of the NGL weren't only manufacturing drugs, but weapons." Kite confirmed.

The swirl of anger only increased in Gon's aura at the news. Seems you weren't the only one who hated the NGL.

"Hey, Killua. Give the bullet here for a sec."

You rarely called him and Gon by their names. Which meant.... Things must've been a lot worse than he thought.

He placed the casing in your outstretched palm. Your fingers traced around it, the tension on your face changing into shock.

"An automatic?!?" Not good. Horrific in fact if an ant had been the one wielding it.

"You're able to tell what gun it was?" Killua asked.

"I used to know a guy whose ability was a bullet that never missed. My best friend actually. Safe to say I know what I'm talking about. I'd give a visualization, but..."

"It's fine." You were doing what you could, so he and Gon would do what you couldn't.

You crouched down towards what you assumed was a puddle of blood. You activated your nen and placed your hand on top of what you realized was a lot more liquid than you were expecting.

It was just water. It was just water. It was just water.

Warm water that had been out in the sun for a while.

Water that stuck to your skin and stained it red.

Just water.

"Whoever this was stood no chance. If they were even human." You noted.

"Yeah but, judging by this...." Killua trailed off. Unease taking over the previous confidence.

"This wasn't a human's doing. Most likely, it was a Chimera Ant." Kite's words left no room for doubt.

Great. Now you had to deal with coked up ants wielding weapons. Just fantastic.

"If my instincts are correct and the Chimera Ants are using firearms now.... I hate to say it, but it's possible the NGL'S underground rulers have already been fed to the queen."

Fed?

It was then that everything clicked for you. Everything you'd been picking up wasn't a strange coincidence.

"So my senses weren't off then."

"You mean the things disappearing and reappearing, right?" The anger from Gon was slowly dissipating, but still very much there.

"Yeah. People have been dying...And the Chimera Ants have been rapidly reproducing. If we don't pick up the pace, things are going to get worse for everyone." With that said, you made a small circle with your unoccupied hand, coating the space with your nen.

You wouldn't be able to stare head on at what happened here, but someone else could.

"Kite, let's confirm those suspicions here and now. Be my eyes for a bit and tell me what you're able to deduce."

It wasn't that you didn't trust the boys, but Kite had the most experience out of the two of them. He would be able to pick up on things they wouldn't have. And right now, you needed to be as precise as possible. No more messing around.

You felt a hand guide your wrist upwards. The disgusts from Kite's aura doubling at what he saw through your little spy glass.

Your ability had highlighted the scene in a way that felt more horrific than the carnage already there.

Small fragments of bone and bullet casings hidden away by the blood. Traces of saliva with a faint feeling of bloodlust. The most notable was a trail of dried bloody footprints leading away from the site.

Footprints that weren't human.

Your ability was proving to be more precise than his En. Whoever had trained you did a hell of a job. It was only a matter of how long you'd be able to hang on with your hemophobia. (Which wasn't hard to deduce from your reaction towards both the note and sight in front of you.)

He let go of your wrist, you and the boys waiting for his assessment.

"What'd you get?" You asked wiping your bloodied hand on your slacks. The nen you summoned long gone.

There was no beating around the bush. The ants were here, and they'd already begun consuming humans. Inheriting their brutality from the Underground rulers.

What was it you said?

If the ants had complex human thoughts, it'd be a lot harder to track them down?

"This will be an unprecedented biohazard."

All of you would have to be on guard.

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

Fun Fact #12: Y/n's favorite animal is the capybara.

MASTERLIST

Tage: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao

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

An: Originally, this chapter was gonna go all the way to the dreaded episode 86, but something happened and I'm going to need to take a short break from writing. So I figured I'd give y'all a shorter version of what I had planned. I'll only be gone for just a few weeks until I can sort myself out, then I'll be back stronger 💪💪 I just don't want to force myself to write and it doesn't come out good. So for now-

TEMPORARY HIATUS

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter x y/n #gon x reader #killua x reader #mayhaps a kite x reader???#big sib reader #older reader #found family #x reader #platonic

73 notes · View notes

bcacstuff · 5 months

Text

🚨 Huge spoiler alert 🚨

Couple Next Door ending explained: Who shot [SPOILER]?

The Couple Next Door spoilers follow.

The Couple Next Door has given us six episodes of twists and turns ahead of a dramatic finale showdown in the woods, where this delightfully soapy Channel 4 tale came to its bullet-riddled conclusion.

At last, the finale resolved the question that had lingered since the very first scene of the premiere episode, which teased some dramatic happening in the Yorkshire Dales involving the core four.

The final episode ties up most of the loose ends piece by piece, until we get to that scene of the neighbours-with-benefits weaving through the treeline in hot pursuit of Evie (Eleanor Tomlinson), who we now know is pregnant with Danny's (Sam Heughan) baby.

So what happened in that final showdown and who ends up shooting the gun?

The Couple Next Door ending explained

The episode begins with Evie ensconced at her parents' place, having told them her good news that she's pregnant – but not who the father is. Despite some pretty obvious hints all is not well with Evie – her obsession with Danny having taken on a life of its own – her folks are happily oblivious and agree to let her use their spare cottage for a mini break.

Meanwhile, Danny's professional life is not merely in hot water but has now reached an intense, rolling boil. His partner in copper crime is being raked over the coals about his part in a bank robbery in one of those eerily nondescript rooms with a two-way mirror.

And that's only the beginning of Danny's problems, since Becka (Jessica De Gouw) discovered the secret child Danny fathered with a woman who was a witness on a police case. The twists just keep twisting here.

Danny's co-workers on the police force are trying their best to track him down, presumably having pieced together the fact he was taking side payments from criminals. What happens to this storyline? Well, we're not entirely sure – it's sort of forgotten once we got into the thick of the woodland dramatics. Perhaps Danny got off with a light warning from HR.

Speaking of the woodland, Evie and her extremely conservative father seem to be making some progress and finally have a heart-to-heart as they make their way to the cabin, only for things to fall to pieces when Evie tells him about her future baby's actual parentage. Suffice to say, he doesn't take the news that Evie is in love with her neighbour Danny all that well.

Back on the Leeds cul de sac, Danny is mid-apology to Becka for making a right mess of the whole secret child thing, when he gets a call from Evie. Her dad has gone "mad", she says. He's "trapped" her in the cabin, she says. An unlikely tale, it turns out, but Danny and Becka still rush over to help.

At this point we're reminded of Evie's jettisoned hubbie Pete (Alfred Enoch), who we find asleep on the sofa in the middle of the day. On the coffee table in front of him, where you might expect mug rings and remote controls, is the criminal's gun from the confrontation with Danny the night before.

Jean (Kate Robbins), who has decided to leave her creepy husband (Hugh Dennis) and start a new life – good for her! – tells Pete that Danny and Evie have been at it behind his back. The Couple Next Door very briefly turns a bit EastEnders, as Jean wishes Pete and co well before driving off in a taxi to her better life.

Pete, becoming a touch manic, figures Danny and Evie must be together and goes in search, gun clumsily stuffed into the waistband of his jeans.

Then we finally make it to the long-teased "violent showdown" between the couples at the woodland cabin. Danny pitches up and finds Evie not in the mortal danger she had claimed to be in, but instead in the bath primed to seduce him – until Becka walks in.

Pete then comes storming into the mix, gun still in pants. After Danny rejects Evie and professes his love for Becka, a tussle begins.

The dodgy associate from the criminal syndicate shows up as well, bearing a scary-looking rifle. That is until Evie's dad appears, fresh from some wood-chopping, and shoots him.

Then Evie's off running – repeating that first scene – and they all make off after Pete and his gun.

Once they all clearly get a bit out of breath, they decide to stop running. "Evie, please," Pete begs. "I've never loved anyone before you. And I'll never love anyone again. Please. You can't leave me."

At this point Danny inexplicably charges and Pete lets off a shot, which lodges in Danny's leg. As Becka tends to Danny, who takes the gunshot fairly well, Evie well and truly crushes Pete with the softly-spoken confession that she doesn't love him anymore.

Then, just off screen, Pete is shot in the abdomen and crumples to the ground.

So who shot him? He was holding the gun the last we saw it, so was it self-inflicted? The more likely answer is that Evie eased the gun out of his hands while she broke his heart with her admission of lovelessness.

But the sight of Pete shot near-dead is enough to get Evie to crack, realising what she's done and running to hold him.

But Pete's not dead! We see him wheeled off by the medics and Evie taken into custody, alongside her father. She shares one last lingering look with Danny and smiles – so maybe she hasn't quite shaken off her obsession?

The last we see of Evie, she gets the classic police officer head shove into the back of the cop car. Maybe the jury will go easy on her.

32 notes · View notes

ruiniel · 1 year

Note

u know what, i'm gonna be a basic b and ask for the ever iconic it's way too cold outside so lets cuddle naked and pretend that we're not aroused trope for castlevania's alucard. gotta love some of that sweet sexual tension

Some classics are made to last and be retold, never worry! I wanted to practice some writing but was also tired so uh, took an alternate ending to a scene from an older Alucard x OFC fic that used the 'beauty and the beast' trope, changed a few things, and included your prompt. … I wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling, but gave it a dose of UST. A lot of setup, though, even some action before that. Hope you like it.

This is the continuation of Schemes (warning, major angstfest there). Schemes doesn't need to be read in order to get this one, but it sure would enhance the last scene here.

The title is part of the proverb Still waters run deep. It was just there.

Still waters

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x fem!reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Count: 4k

Rating: M (🔞)

Tags/CW: scholar!reader, brief depiction of illness, abuse, verbal abuse, violence, attempted murder, unresolved sexual tension, Alucard is Not nice in this, Though he still means well, OK he's *kind of nice*, explicit language, post Castlevania season III, POV Reader Character, Second Person POV, references to past emotional conflict, protectiveness

Summary: He frightened you that night... but you’d been so foolish. Taking a moment of weakness for something else, pushing when you shouldn’t have. Now here you are: alone, worn, having traveled along the first dusty path you found away from the woods, aiming to be as far from that castle as possible. You have but few belongings, save a valuable manuscript he’d once gifted you.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

You shook your head wearily at the wretched, aching memory of that last encounter, and peered beyond the heavy wooden gates of the village you’d discovered in your path. You hoped someone was awake on the other side, waited for a few minutes. Nothing. You were about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of dawn. After the bell died your knuckles struck the wooden gate again.

"A’ight, ai’ght," a disgruntled elderly voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg y'know," the voice went on, and the trap door opened level with your face. Suspicious old eyes found yours. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

You gave him your name in your most steady voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am no more than a traveler, fatigued and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trap door was closed. A moment later the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" the somewhat raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing you striding past. " ... I'd watch meself if I were you—" the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on you, now too preoccupied with taking in the new view before you. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town but far from being a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. You noticed folk were already up and about, most garbed in similar thick linens and furs. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading into different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," you swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran," she replied hastily, rushing off before you had a chance to ask whether you could expect to find room and board of any kind. Bran. You had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something you shied away from, and there was little doubt you’d resort to such again throughout your journey. But for now, well, now you needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

You walked along the main street, eyes searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to your boots and the hem of your cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. You sighed, shouldering the satchel containing your few belongings.

Morning, midday and afternoon passed with little commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. You felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with your uncertain options for the night.

You felt empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering your thoughts; they ever returned to him. You wanted to forget, but no doubt that would take time. You wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into your mind. What was causing the most distress was the way his merciless distrust had slammed into you, and during moments you could not erase from your mind however much you tried.

You regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance, wondering whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between you. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. You may have taken a wrong step, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But your head had been full, of both wine and him and a ruthless desire you could not rein. No use regretting it now.

Soon, there was commotion around you as you reached the village marketplace. There were various merchants selling leathers, metalwork and wooden carvings among others and there was even a stand laden with smoked meats. There was plenty of mud here as well, giving the gathering a rather splattered appearance. You also saw chickens, goats and pigs put up for sale.

You waded through the crowd, considering spending coin on whatever nourishment you could find, when a wail was heard from without. The sounds were inhuman to your ears, closer to screeches than anything.

You approached the curious crowd that had gathered, and craning your neck to see better, you noticed a young girl, writhing on the ground. Her body was contorting in strange positions. She looked to be in her early youth, and was a sorry state. Her eyes were rolled over so the bare whites were visible, and she was uttering sounds that would have caused a night creature to flee. An older woman was on her knees and attempting to keep her flailing arms at bay.

"Witchery..." you heard the word whispered by more than one. "The devil has her, she is under its spell again," another was saying.

You sighed in annoyance, shouldering your way between them. That is no spell.

You’d seen this condition before, during your studies. It was an affliction of the mind and body, leaving one too weakened and unable to perform tasks as others would. The older woman was desperately trying to soothe the girl, now foaming at the mouth, even as you came before them and lowered yourself beside them. "Hold her jaw," you said. "I am a... healer," you offered by way of greeting, at which point the woman's eyes widened. She did as was asked.

"She must not bite her tongue," you told the frantic woman, moving the girl before pressing two fingers to a specific spot along the side of her neck. The struggling soon ceased, and her arms and legs became slack, her eyes closed.

You caught the gaze of the older woman.

"It usually takes me much longer to still her," she said, her eyes full of worry and gratitude. "I have never seen anyone achieve what you have done."

"Your child has an ailment, one she will bear if properly tended," you leaned in closer. "And it has nothing to do with God or the Devil," you whispered, looking to the somewhat wary crowd. People had begun to disperse and go about their business.

"Well, whatever it is, I am in your debt." She lowered her head.

"Let there be no debt, I do not do this for recompense."

"I am Rafilae, and this is my daughter, Maria," the woman looked to the girl now nestled in her arms. "I have a cottage at the other end of our village, and though we have no wealth to speak of, I would still wish to repay you, somehow. Come, I think we have enough food to share for tonight, and you look to be in need of rest yourself."

You could do little to deny that. You were tired, you were hungry. "If that would not be too much trouble..." you said, with little conviction.

"Bah, no trouble at all. I'll explain all to my man. Now come," Rafilae urged, and having nothing else to do nor indeed anywhere to go, you heeded.

A cloaked figure watched you depart but did not follow, instead fading amid the crowd of the bustling market.

Evening found you seated on the ground at a wooden table in a small thatched roof hut, a steaming dish of root vegetable broth set before you. You were joined by your new acquaintances and hosts, both of whom seemed wholesome, hardworking people. Rafilae's husband Rufus had been an amenable man, and all the happier when he heard of the aid you provided. Maria lay on a bed of hay not too far away, joined by her brothers and sisters, having regained herself in the meantime.

They asked of your purpose in Wallachia, of your own lands. They were curious people, but you were at a point where you craved and welcomed the openness of human contact. You kept most of your trials to yourself, placing forward the idea that you were a traveling healer. You then instructed the couple on a few techniques to help their daughter and spoke of the condition she bore. These simple folk were looking rather incredulously at you, still somewhat unable to believe their child was not possessed by any forces of evil. It was during this conversation that a vicious knock sounded at the door of the hut.

"Rather late for visitors," Rufus said with narrowed eyes.

All conversation ceased, and the man rose, taking a heavy pitchfork in hand. You rose as well and peered outside to catch glimpse of the intruder. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Six figures, all armed and dressed in robes of black and gold were planted before the homestead.

One of them pointed a long, dirty finger at you. "That one."

Rufus went to stand as a shield before you and his wife, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while you were suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, you remembered their kind. You recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased you that rainy day, whom you barely escaped; who led you to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," came the confirmation. "That’s the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today in the commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped loathing. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The second man who’d spoken neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

You scoffed, though inside you quaked. Not again, not again.

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" You seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly at Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared at the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. You sighed upon seeing them, lowering your head.

"No," you placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." You looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then swiftly you retrieved your satchel, and hands were on your shoulders, and you were dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown you kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed your mind.

"What will you do to me?" you dared ask as one of the men pulled your hands to bind them. You struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed your wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus attack weeks ago.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought your wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on your livid expression. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," you tried reason, struggling as the bonds were tightened. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed, features contorting. He thrust his face close to yours, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling so harshly you screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing your eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released you, and bid them march ahead with you dragged in tow.

As you left the village behind, you were trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on your side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and two captors lit torches.

When you heard the murmur of water nearby, you swallowed. They must have neared the river. You looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom. They’d taken your satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then you were being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting, towards the steep edge where the river thrashed below. Your legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended your wailing. You saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that, when something hissed past them.

You saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. You heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

You rose swiftly to your knees, trying to rip the bonds with your teeth to no avail, fumbling onto the ground, looking for the satchel. You stared about yourself, for whatever was happening lit by the weak light of the fallen torches.

A tall figure faced the prior.

It all happened too fast. You were being dragged by the hair, caught in an armlock that had you choking. The prior stood alone, and spilled blood rose warm in the air. He was ever pacing back towards the cliff, and the river below, with you struggling in his grip.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer.

"Release your captive," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

The voice. That voice.

"What?!"

"Release your captive, then jump," the voice repeated calmly as the blade swished through the air, glinting eerily. "And you may survive the river. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my blade. Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the catlike gaze of the stranger.

True to his word, he began his count.

"Are you mad?! Your witch will perish too, you fucking beast, because if I go, she goes with me."

If you didn’t know better, you thought you’d heard a growl.

"Here, if you want her so badly, she’s all yours—”

You gasped as you were forcefully flung into darkness, deafened by your own startled cry, by another short, agonized gurgle.

And then, pins and needles, and the cold numbed all.

Pain. Everywhere and nowhere; too hot, but then too cold. You opened your eyes to what seemed like pale daylight sifting through a window, closed them again.

Am I alive?

The capture, the darkness, the river, all came crashing down in waves of memories, and a violent quiver shook your frame. You were strewn on something softer than a forest bed. You opened your eyes anew, saw nary a movement, and felt something warm pressed to your forehead. A palm. You shivered, shivered, shivered, before losing consciousness again.

Must it be so cold everywhere? Everything hurt. As you stared blearily along your arm, you felt the bruises forming there. And then, a change: warmth at your back, much needed heat enveloping you. Pleasant and alive, and before you understood—or cared—what it was, you pressed closer. Something locked around your waist.

"You fidget," and despite the ache, the warm breath against your neck sent a different shiver down your body.

This was not actually happening. You were caught in some feverish dream, dying on the stony banks of the river.

"...where… you…"

"Don’t try to speak. Rest."

"...came for me? But how…"

An exasperated sigh. "My senses. I know your scent."

At any other time, those words might have had your heart soaring and mind reeling, but now you were too numb for even the infatuation which, even in delirium, apparently wouldn’t loosen its hold.

"You struck the waters before I reached you," Adrian went on in that soft voice, though its tone was rather clinical.

Yes, you struggled to remember. He did arrive, it had been him. Right before…

It was then you noticed something mortifying—you were bare under the covers, and the warmth against your back was skin.

As if reading your thoughts, Adrian spoke again. "You were in shock when I retrieved you from the water. The medicine supplies here were mostly destroyed during the siege on the castle," he said, and you realized that what was closed around you was his arm; his bare arm, and your back was pressed to his chest. You were too tired to move, too gutted to speak. Last time you attempted closeness, he all but cast you out of the castle and now, now…

If only you had the strength to be angry.

"The heating system no longer works since then, and I had no firewood, and your condition was fastly worsening. I had no choice," he spoke again.

And the way he said the last words was killing you; like you were a chore, and a disturbance.

Still, he… he was there.

"...I see…" you managed, feeling him warm but stiff as you lay unmoving on your side. You wished you could scream, demand an apology for his denial and his distrustful, unjust words during that last encounter but then—he saved your life.

"Why?" you croaked, staring out the window, where clouds darkened the sky above the forest.

"I told you not to speak."

"Why did you do it?" you asked stubbornly, feeling the arm tighten around your waist in an uncontrolled jerk of movement. "Why did you go through the trouble of dragging me from their clutches when you demanded I left in the first place."

"I demanded you left, but never wanted you to come to harm."

You closed your eyes. "You called me a liar." He could be so goddamn infuriating. Never a straight answer, but his warmth seeping into you felt so good it made you drowsy, and the most primal side of you felt it seeping within, lacing pleasure to pain.

Silence. You wondered if you’d finally reached him, or if it was the guilt at his past conduct that drove him to this. You could not help remembering the way he held you then, the desperate longing in his kiss, the heat rising between you as he crushed you closer—a heat not unlike the one burning you now; you no longer shivered from the cold, but were loath to tell him.

Damn you. Damn him.

His chest rose in a sigh against your naked back. "There are things you do not know. About me. I…"

You couldn’t be more bewildered if you saw a pig on white wings flying towards the sun. Adrian, being honest and straightforward? Still, you did not hedge him. Let him struggle, the petty side of you urged, the other melting with desperation and love.

"My trust was broken before," he finally said, and you waited, but Adrian added nothing else.

Still. "I did not know," you said, staring out the window.

"I realized that. After," and for the first time, you sensed a sliver of remorse in his tone. Not an apology, but, for now, all else considered, it would do. This was not the way things went in your lustful dreams of him from before; aching all over, unable to move.

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed. "Warm."

A pause. You’d half expected him to rise and leave, but nothing happened.

"Good," he said. He felt warmer, or maybe it was a slight of the imagination. And then, "I do not think you a liar."

You still felt resent at the memory, but on impulse, your hand reached, pressed over his own that was splayed over your abdomen. Your fingers slipped between his; he did not withdraw.

"Please," you heard then, and the whisper held something ragged in it, and you became aware of a hardness against you, just like… like that first time you threw yourself at him like a fool with your head full of wine and body thrumming with desire.

You said nothing else, become aware of the risen heartbeat against your spine. And suddenly you wondered, and suddenly you understood.

"Did you bring me back to cast me away again once I’m better? Will you reprise that humiliation?" You could not help it, though his words on trust haunted you already, as many of his past actions gained a new, horrible sense.

"No." It sounded pained on its own; you let it be.

You lay in silence, aware you could not even move if you tried to turn and face him, to see his eyes, to feel him closer, to tell him. "I will wait for you, Adrian," you said either way, and never heard his answer as exhausted sleep claimed you.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

#alucard castlevania x reader #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard x you #adrian tepes x you #castlevania x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania imagine #castlevania post season III AU #AFAB reader #alucard x oc #alucard x ofc

66 notes · View notes