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nametakensff · 4 months

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Mistletoe Mishap (S/teddie)

Ignore the cheesy title and enjoy 4.4k of mutual fetish AU S/teddie smut lol

S/teve and E/ddie are decorating the H/arrington household in preparation for a Christmas party when E/ddie has a ~mysterious~ allergy attack

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Content:

M/M, established relationship (four years deep), both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, allergy sneezing, handjobs, spray, a little tiny mention of mess, descriptions of a pretty intense allergic reaction, sneezing on someone's face, sneezing on someone's neck, teasing, nose rubbing

CW: graphic descriptions of cum, E/ddie is a particularly demanding tease in this one

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NSFW, minors please DNI!

“You know, I don’t understand why they don’t sell the place. Or just give it to you.” Eddie stated, pushing the front door to the Harrington residence closed behind him. “It’s not like they’re ever here. Seems like a waste of prime real estate.”

Steve shrugged, setting the last of the cardboard boxes they’d brought with them on the floor and crouching down over it.

“I’ve long given up on trying to understand my parents, Eds. Doesn’t matter, right? Comes in handy at times like this.”

He ripped the tape off the box and opened it wide, smiling as Eddie’s curls brushed the side of his face, the older man leaning precariously over his shoulder.

“You didn’t need to buy so many new decorations, hon. It’s just the kids. They don’t care.”

“Hmm.” Steve ran his hand over the assortment of tinsel, baubles and other Christmassy items, pleased to see they were completely intact even after he and Eddie had dropped this box in the parking lot earlier.

“Maybe they don’t care, but I do. It’s their last Christmas in high school, Munson. I want it to be nice for them. It might even be the last Christmas all of them spend together. They’ll go to college – they’re smart kids – and they might not even come back for the holidays.”

Even as he said it, Steve’s heart gave an unpleasant little flutter of what he supposed was preemptive grief. After everything they’d been through in this insane town – all the life and death situations they’d managed to pull through - these kids meant the world to him. They were eighteen years old – well, some of them – and he could hardly believe how much they’d grown before his eyes. He had been content living with Eddie in their small apartment and going about their everyday life in Hawkins, but change was in the air. Not only were the kids about 6 or so months away from graduation, he and Eddie had been discussing their own potential move. It should be exciting, and for the most part it was, but he was also a little terrified.

He felt Eddie’s hand squeezing his shoulder gently, turned his head to look up into his boyfriend’s face. He knew that look well, one of total fondness and adoration, and found himself smiling back up at him.

“Okay, Stevie. Let’s make it extra pretty for ‘em, huh?” He straightened up and made his way round Steve to open another box. “All I meant was they’ll be happy no matter what you do. The fuckers love you, man.”

Steve smiled again, feeling a little too sensitive and knowing if he said anything at all his voice would be thick with emotion. He nodded and took a second for the lump in his throat to recede before starting up into a series of instructions for their decoration game plan.

~~~~~~

“Okay.” Steve stood with his hands on his hips, feeling exhilarated as he glanced round at their handiwork. Despite how long it had taken them - mostly because of Eddie and his absolute inability to focus on the task at hand without either teasing Steve, fighting Steve or holding various decorations in front of his crotch and pretending they were his penis - it had turned out just great. In Steve’s opinion, it had been worth breaking the bank a little for the pomp and circumstance of it all.

“Looks great, baby.” He was grinning, the satisfaction of a job well done leaving him proud and happy.

“Fucking finally.” Eddie grumbled from his position on the hallway carpet, sprawled out on his back like a recalcitrant starfish.

Steve smirked at him before climbing on top of him and straddling his waist, planting his hands at the side of the older man’s head, careful to avoid the trailing brown curls that spread haphazardly around them.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Eddie deadpanned, but Steve felt him reach up to grip his waist gently.

“I am.” Steve admitted before pressing several small kisses over Eddie’s cheeks, eyebrows, nose. He was delighted to hear his boyfriend giggle sweetly in response. It was so fucking cute that Steve had to kiss him immediately, and Eddie, a sucker for him as always, elevated the kiss from soft and tender to deep and nasty in mere seconds.

After several more minutes of moaning and groping on the hallway floor, Steve figured they may as well be celebrating their successful decoration efforts in the comfort of an actual bed. He pulled back from the kiss, laughing as Eddie followed him as far as he could from his prone position before flopping back down.

“You better tell me the only reason you’re stopping is to haul my ass up to your bedroom, pretty boy.” Breathless and giddy, he massaged Steve’s ass with his wandering hands.

“Read my mind, baby. Let’s go.” Steve stood and pulled Eddie up alongside him with a strong arm. The metalhead flounced past him, already halfway up the stairs when Steve noticed one final box, unopened and forgotten towards the end of the hall. They must have missed that one in the maelstrom of hanging and pinning and arranging that had followed.

“Eddie, wait.” Steve started, pacing towards the box.

“What, what now?” Eddie groaned, turning around on the steps to peer down at Steve. His erection continued to stubbornly strain against the fabric of his worn black jeans.

“We missed a box.” Steve said, picked it up when he found it to be somewhat lighter than the others, and held it up towards Eddie.

“Are you serious, Steve?? It’s been hours, we’ve already worked like Santa’s god damn elves on cocaine and the house looks like Christmas vomited all over it – just put the damn thing down and let me suck your cock already!”

Steve, frankly, found the whole diatribe incredibly amusing – the only thing more amusing than Eddie’s rant was the look of utter indignation on his face when Steve outright laughed at him.

“Ooh, you piss me off.” Eddie stomped his way down the stairs, strode up to his still-laughing boyfriend and yanked the box from his hands. “If we finish with this last little box, can we go upstairs and fuck each other’s brains out for the remainder of this fine December evening?”

“Sure.” Steve smirked, enjoying his boyfriend’s sexual frustration and trademark impatience immensely.

With that confirmed, Eddie redoubled his efforts, practically tearing at the box as he crouched haphazardly beside it. Ripping it open, he paused for a second, tilting his head like a curious puppy as he took in the contents.

“Leaves…?”

Steve’s brows furrowed; he leaned forward, following his boyfriend’s gaze downwards. Suddenly, it clicked.

“Mistletoe.” He snapped a forefinger and thumb together. “Sorry hon, I totally forgot. Won’t take us long to hang a couple of these up.”

“Huh. Do you really need this much of it for the children, though? Are we advocating for teen pregnancy in this household?” Eddie joked, dangling a sprig dramatically over the two of them. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Please. Being members of Hellfire is contraception enough.”

“Wow. Fuck you, I guess?”

Steve chuckled, snatched the sprig from Eddie and held it above them as the metalhead had just moments before. He slipped one strong arm around Eddie’s slim waist and pulled him closer, until their fronts were flush.

“Sorry, baby. Kiss and make up?”

Any faux offense on Eddie’s part was quickly diminished as the older man smiled and leaned into Steve’s embrace. All too quickly his hands were roaming over Steve’s body, squeezing his ass, dragging his nails down Steve’s back hard enough he could feel it through the cotton of his polo shirt. They both moaned into the kiss, all tongues and heavy breathing, and for a moment Steve lost himself in it.

It didn’t last long, however. Steve felt his boyfriend tense, standing rigid in his embrace. He barely had a second of recognition at the sharp inhale Eddie took in through his nose before the metalhead was pulling away just a moment too late, catching Steve’s jaw with the light aerosol of his first sneeze. The older man choked out a breathy apology before sucking in another inhale and proceeding to sneeze fittishly against the column of Steve’s throat, trembling and gripping the fabric of his shirt as though holding on for dear life.

“Hh-HH’ENGXT’Tchieww!! NDd’tshieww!! ‘Tshieww!! Ihkg’tchieww!! HAH!! DDZZSCH’Uuuu!! Ohh…”

Steve felt his entire body blooming with heat at the arousal that pulsed through him. He never tired of this, felt just as overwhelmed and ruined by every sneeze that graced his heated skin as he ever had. He held Eddie upright as he shuddered, stroking one broad hand down the expanse of his back as best he could whilst still clutching the mistletoe between thumb and forefinger. He kissed into Eddie’s curls and willed his hips not to buck against the thigh his boyfriend had slid between his own.

“God bless you, sweetheart.”

Eddie pulled back, sniffly and watery-eyed, offering Steve a sheepish, crooked smile as he shook a few stray hairs back from his face.

“Whew, sorry, Stevie. That came out of nowhere.” He snuffled a little louder, and Steve was transfixed at the wonderful flare of those oh-so expressive nostrils as he did so. Eddie swiped gently at the dampened skin of Steve’s throat with the cuff of one long sleeve. “Had a tickle.”

Steve moaned softly, smiled at the pleased grin that whimper of arousal pulled out of Eddie.

“You okay, Eds?” He asked, still stroking Eddie’s back softly.

“I’m just dandy, honey. Great, actually. That felt fucking incredible.” He punctuated the statement with another sniffle, even more liquid sounding than the others, and pressed a soft kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth.

Whether he was embellishing the experience for Steve’s benefit or whether those sneezes really had gotten him worked up – either way, Steve could feel the older man’s erection, harder than before and digging into his hip. He groaned, gripping Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and using the other to cup his ass, forcing their hips together and grinding against Eddie’s thigh, inviting his boyfriend to do the same.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He muttered against Eddie’s plush lips before capturing them in another intense kiss.

It was much of the same for a bit – grinding and gasping and moaning and kissing, gripping each other with desperate, wandering hands. Steve replayed the sound of every tickly little sneeze Eddie had graced him with minutes earlier, the sensation of the spray as it arced across his neck. He hadn’t been exaggerating; he really did feel like he was going to die when they worked together like this, like the emotions and the sensations were simply too much for his body to handle and he would shatter into a million pieces. He loved every second of it.

Eddie tensed again, just as before, but this time Steve was ready for it. He groaned into his boyfriend’s mouth, rolled his hips against him, squeezed his ass for all he was worth. The metalhead pulled back with one final frantic breath sucked in through twitching, flaring nostrils, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on Steve’s back, and sneezed violently between them.

“H’ohh goddDDDISSSSHH’IEwww!! hHDT’TISShhuuu!! IGXShhh!! HIG’TCHIeww!! Hh-HH-!”

He seemed to pause for a moment, and Steve would have perhaps mistaken this for the end of his fit had he not the perfect view of his crumpled expression – eyes overflowing with irritated tears, nostrils flared to capacity, tongue pressing firmly against his bottom lip as his jaw hung open. He was a picturesque portrait of ticklish misery, and Steve wanted a better view. He released his grip on Eddie’s ass to instead replace that hand in a firm but gentle grip on the older man’s chin, tenderly tilting back his head from his slightly ducked position so that he was facing Steve directly. Eddie didn’t protest, allowed Steve to do as he would, seemingly more preoccupied with allowing the tickle to crest inside his aggravated nose. It looked like such a tease; the naked look of desperation on his face was driving Steve wild.

What was maybe a few seconds felt like an eternity as Steve wished he could freeze them in this painfully erotic moment forever – Eddie, held right on the precipice of a sneeze and Steve ready and waiting to receive it. One final, dramatic tick of his nostrils, however, and Eddie finally reached his peak, rocking forward against Steve as it overpowered him.

“AEGGKKk’KSHIEWWwww!! eEHDT’TCHIewww!! HEH’TCHIEWWWw!! ‘TSCHH’Iieww! Hh…”

Steve’s eyes closed reflexively with every sneeze that burst across his face, cock throbbing and pulsing in his jeans as he took in the rich vocal sound of them, the desperate, almost pained expression on his boyfriend’s face, the feeling of his trembling against him. Yeah, he was never, ever getting tired of this.

“Hholy shit…” Eddie muttered, sounding utterly drained. Steve didn’t blame him; the sneezes, whilst not as large as his own, had sounded incredibly intense. Eddie sagged weakly against him, the weight of his head heavy against Steve’s hand. The younger man released his chin from the grip and swiped a thumb under his boyfriend’s dripping nose, finally pinching a little string of mess away from his septum before wiping it subtly away on his own jean-clad thigh. With slightly less subtlety he raised the collar of his shirt to quickly wipe his face clean.

“Bless you, baby. My god.” Steve laughed breathily, elated and giddy and absolutely overflowing with adoration. “You doing okay? Those were some serious sneezes.”

“Yeah. God. They really didn’t fuck around, huh?” Eddie sniffled, releasing the death grip he was maintaining on the back of Steve’s shirt to lift a crooked finger to rub at his tickly nostrils, quickly switching to all but mashing his nose back and forth with his palm when the gentle rubbing did nothing to alleviate the itch. He used the knuckle of the same hand to scrub at his eyes, which Steve noticed were looking suddenly all too pink. He frowned a little, pulling Eddie’s hand away by the wrist, ignoring the gentle whine of protest.

“Itches.” Eddie muttered, blinking as another pair of tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I know. I think you’re having an allergic reaction, Munson. And a fast one, at that.”

“Yeah, I am. Shit.” He sniffled again, twitching his pink nostrils, and Steve had to force himself to focus on the matter at hand and not the fact that he could feel his heartbeat in his dick.

“Any idea what might have triggered it? You poor thing…” Steve murmured, hoping he sounded as empathetic as he was ragingly horny.

“Ugh. Maybe dust from the carpet? I was down there for a little while, I guess.”

Steve frowned.

“But you’re not normally this irritated that fast? Unless it’s, like, a lot of dust?”

Eddie shrugged, squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his nose frantically again, a series of wet clicking noises sounding out as he did so.

“I don’t know, man. Fuck, I’m so itchy,” He whined, using the heel of his palm to press up against a leaky eye, ignoring Steve’s attempts to swat it away.

Steve glanced around the room, looking for anything that might be the culprit. No flowers that weren’t fake, no cleaning products left out in the open; the house was maybe a little dusty, granted it had been unoccupied for months at this point, but his parents still paid for a maid to semi-regularly come and maintain it, so it wouldn’t be enough to make Eddie this allergic. At a loss, he turned his head back to his boyfriend and opened his mouth to offer some sympathetic encouragement or other before he froze in his tracks.

He was resting one hand on Eddie’s shoulder – the same hand that still clutched a sprig of fresh mistletoe.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been around mistletoe before?”

“Sure? Kids used to hang that shit all over school around Christmas.”

“But that stuff was plastic, no?”

“Well, yeah, but…?”

“Eddie.”

“Mm?”

“I think you’re allergic to mistletoe. Real mistletoe.”

“…Oh. Ohhhh.” Recognition dawned on Eddie’s face, and Steve nodded back at him as they locked eyes.

“You only started to sneeze once we opened that box. I got it at the store when you were grabbing an extra box of fairy lights for me.”

“Well, shit.” Eddie giggled, even as mashed his nose against his palm again. Steve lowered the hand holding the sprig to his side.

“I’m sorry.” He offered, really meaning it and feeling horribly guilty for taking such enjoyment in what looked like a pretty intense allergic reaction.

“C’mon, Stevie, no sorries. We don’t even know it’s that stuff for sure – s’probably still just the dust. Delayed reaction, or something.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at that. Telling himself it was merely a matter of necessary experimentation and not because his cock was drooling in his pants at the thought of a repeat performance, he lifted the sprig up and held it directly under his boyfriend’s nose. Despite so confidently reassuring Steve the mistletoe was of no concern, the metalhead jerked his head back slightly at the sudden proximity of the offending plant.

“Sorry, sorry – just, sniff this for me? I want to be sure.” Steve tried gently, handling his boyfriend as one might attempt to soothe a skittish horse.

Eddie, stubborn as ever, rolled his eyes.

“I’m telling you, Harrington, even if it made me sneeze a little, that’s hardly a big deal for yours truly. It’ll be the dust that’s gotten me like this.”

He sniffed obediently all the same. His reaction was almost instantaneous and explosive as could be, actually causing Steve to jump a little as he sneezed violently all over the sprig, Steve’s hand and even dousing his forearm in a sudden cloud of spray.

“EESHHHHhhh’uuu!!”

Steve dropped the sprig immediately, groaning as his cock jumped in his pants at the throaty sound of his boyfriend’s desperate release.

“Bless you, you stubborn bastard. Oh, my poor allergic baby.” He crooned, kissing at another stray tear that rolled down Eddie’s cheek and wrapping his arms around him in support as the metalhead built up to yet another fit. The older man’s chest jumped rhythmically against Steve’s own, and with shaking arms he wrapped himself around Steve in return, resting his chin over his shoulder and slotting his thigh even more securely between Steve’s, as if anchoring himself in position to allow for the sneezes to overpower him.

“Fuck, Mm’gonna-!”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.”

Steve had barely finished speaking by the time Eddie launched into his fit, notably stronger than before after getting a direct noseful of the offending allergen. Steve held him close, keeping the pair of them upright as his boyfriend gasped and rocked and strained. He bit his lip, willing himself not to go off in his pants as each sneeze seemed to travel though the both of them.

“HeHH-TSSSCH-TSSSSCH-‘DTTSZ’SHieww!! hHH-!! ‘GTSCH’IEWW!! EhHDT’TSHHIEwww!! ENGXT’TCHuuu!! Hh, HH!! IIIESHHHH’IEWW!!! Hohh…”

Steve listened to Eddie snuffle as he hung limply in his embrace, stroking his back reassuringly and whispering sweet litanies of praise and blessings into his boyfriend’s ear.

“Bless you, honey. You did so good, really got that tickle out of your poor little nose.”

“Mmff…” Eddie responded, dragging his drippy, twitching nostrils over the junction where Steve’s neck met his shoulder and rubbing them into his skin. Steve shivered at the wet sensation, continuing to support his boyfriend’s weight whilst holding himself rigid, forcing himself not to rut his cock against Eddie’s thigh and orgasm when he should be offering comfort. He swallowed and breathed out a shaky little laugh.

“Thought I knew everything about you at this point, but I guess not.”

He felt Eddie kiss him softly through the fabric of his shirt.

“Doesn’t count if I didn’t know it either.” The metalhead muttered, sounding so incredibly wiped out Steve’s chest blossomed with affection. “Not exactly off brand for me, this shocking revelation.”

Steve chuckled softly, the sound quickly morphing into a strangled groan as Eddie suddenly muffled a string of poorly suppressed sneezes into his shoulder, shaking the both of them again.

“HhNGGXT’Tsziew!! MMP’TChhh!! Ehh’NGXT!! NGK’Tieww!!”

“Fuck, Eddie, bless you.” Steve squirmed in place, squeezing his thighs tight around Eddie’s.

Eddie sighed, an almost orgasmic exhalation of air that made Steve shudder again, before lifting his head and pulling back, allowing Steve get a thorough look at his face. The younger man’s heart (and cock) throbbed to see just how much those sneezes had overpowered his boyfriend. Eddie’s eyes were bloodshot and leaking an almost continuous stream of allergic tears; his nose was reddened and slightly swollen; his full lips pink and moist with the aftermath of the intense sneezing he’d been subjected to. But he was smiling, and Steve hadn’t been with him for going on four years now to not recognise the heated look of arousal plastered onto his face. As if to reinforce his deductions, Eddie ground his own cock, almost as hard as Steve’s, against the younger man’s thigh.

“Thank you, angel. God, that felt so good. Did you like it?” He murmured, leaning forward to rub his nose against Steve’s. The younger man could feel how damp those flaring nostrils were against his own, so warm and soft. He answered with a moan in lieu of anything even remotely intelligent. Eddie seemed happy either way.

“Bless me.” He rubbed his nose against Steve’s just a little harder. “My nose is so tickly.”

“Eddie-!” Steve moaned, feeling completely dumbstruck as his boyfriend nuzzled against him, voice low and seductive, each word elevating him closer and closer to orgasm. He wanted to throw Eddie on the ground and fuck him stupid, but he also didn’t want this wonderful teasing to stop.

Suddenly, he felt the distinct sensation of his zipper being pulled down, and gasped at the feeling of Eddie’s calloused fingers pulling his cock out of his underwear. It pulsed and drooled a new stream of pre-cum all over that warm, familiar grip.

“You want this, baby?” Eddie half-whispered against his lips.

“W-we should…go upstairs, fuckk…” Steve managed, even as his eyes rolled shut at the minute movement of Eddie gently rolling the foreskin back from his cock head. “I can…hold back…!”

“But I want you here, Stevie. And you? Holding back now that I’ve got my hand on your cock? That is a fucking lie.” Eddie grinned, offering a small closed-mouth laugh as Steve moaned against his lips again.

“Fine,” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand, slick with the result of his own wetness, started to pull at him. “But I can’t get jizz on this carpet. Gonna have to cum all over you instead.”

It was Eddie’s turn to moan, and Steve’s eyes squeezed shut at the sound of it, so ragged and breathless he almost came on the spot. He looked down between them as his boyfriend used his free hand to bundle up the hem of his Motorhead shirt and hold it to the tip of his cock.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Harrington.” Eddie nipped at his lips. “All ready for you.”

Steve whimpered, fucking into Eddie’s grip as the stroking resumed, so good, so good, and then Eddie was sniffling into his ear and he was coming in waves, the pleasure spreading out from his pulsing cock right down to his toes, curling them in his sneakers. It was quick and dirty and felt fucking amazing – Eddie jerked him throughout as Steve gripped his shoulders to stay upright, moaning at last once his voice returned to him.

“God,” he sighed with a definitive jerk of his hips into the makeshift cover Eddie held patiently against his spitting cock. He watched as his boyfriend pulled back, the two of them taking in the impressive deluge of cum that stained the black fabric before Eddie used a clean section of shirt to lovingly wipe his cock head clean, giving it a gentle squeeze as he went.

“Feeling better, big boy?” Eddie kissed his cheek, gently moving Steve’s hands off his shoulders once it seemed he could stand on his own. He used his newfound freedom to pull the ruined shirt over his head, careful not to get any mess on himself. He scrubbed a cum-free section over his dripping face for a moment before balling it up and dropping it gently on the floor with a dorky, quiet ‘Sorry, Lemmy.’

“Yeah. Fuckkkk.” Steve breathed out, pulling Eddie into him in a crushing hug, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and running his hands up the bare skin of his back. Eddie patted the small of his back softly in return.

“Love the way you cum. So sexy.” He sighed next to Steve’s ear. Steve could still feel Eddie’s own erection, harder than ever, pressing into his hip. He danced his fingers up Eddie’s spine, humming in satisfaction as he felt his boyfriend shiver and break out in a trail of sensitive goosebumps at the touch.

“Let’s go upstairs now.” He pulled back and reached for Eddie’s hand, feeling his boyfriend grip him back immediately. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you scream.”

“You know that’s all I ever want to hear.” Eddie flashed him a crooked smile, going easily as Steve started to pull him upstairs. Steve felt him hesitate, however, after just a few steps.

“What about the mistletoe, Stevie? Don’t you want to hang it up?”

Steve shook his head, all but yanked his giggling boyfriend a step higher.

“Can’t put that shit up now, and you know it. Cheeky bastard.”

“One second.” Eddie shook his hand free of Steve’s and ran down the stairs towards the box of mistletoe, rummaging for a second with his head angled as far away from the box as possible before extracting a sprig and holding it out in the air beside him.

“Eddie-“ Steve started as his boyfriend bolted up the stairs towards him, keeping the mistletoe at arm’s length.

“C’mon, Stevie, it’s just a little one. We can leave it next to the bed, I promise I’ll be fine.”

Steve must have looked visibly worried, because Eddie pouted up at him and tilted his head coquettishly.

“Where’s your Christmas cheer?” He simpered.

Steve couldn’t deny the prospect was incredibly tempting. One glance at Eddie’s huge doe eyes as they pleaded mischievously with him was all he needed for any further protests to die in his throat.

“Fine. But you’re taking an antihistamine first, you demon.”

Eddie smirked at him, all lidded eyes and long eyelashes.

“Yes, sir!”

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((Just a few notes - I'm pretty sure mistletoe allergies aren't a thing but I don't care because it's hot lol.

Also for anyone who is even a little invested in this AU, I hope it shows that Steve is more comfortable discussing fetish related things this far into their relationship compared to earlier on when he would stutter over everything!))

#s/tranger t/hings #nametakenfic #sneeze fic #snz fucker #snz kink #sneeze kink #snz fet #sneeze fucker #snzblr

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dyaz-stories · 2 years

Text

there was one prize I’d cheat to win || Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings & tags: pretty heavy make out session, they’re in a public place but no one’s there, reader has major insecurities about being inexperienced, general anxious thoughts, references to past shitty treatment by guys, eddie swears a lot.

a/n: big thanks to the people who liked my previous one-shot on Eddie! this one is technically in the same ‘series’ and has the same OC, but they can be read independently. i hope you enjoy it! will i manage to quote the entirety of willow by taylor in the titles of this series? stay tuned to find out

You should have known exactly how this would turn out when Eddie, deadly bored one evening, as you were desperately to get his attention back to the things you were supposed to be tutoring him on, had seemed to jolt back to life, giving you a piercing look.

“What would you do if I got a C on that exam?”

You’d blinked at him.

“What do you mean, what would I do?”

“What would I get? What’s my reward?”

A silence.

“…the satisfaction of knowing you’ve done a good job and a better chance at graduating this year?”

He shook his head, but, to be fair, you knew that would never work on him. There was a somewhat crazed glint in his eyes when they met yours, and, for some reason, you found yourself holding your breath. It was almost embarrassing how strong your reaction was when he looked at you like that, and yet you understood exactly where it came from. When Eddie looked like that, it felt like everything was possible. Like you’d follow him to the end of the world if he asked. It made it so easy to understand why the people in his group had chosen him to be their leader.

“How about a kiss?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion.

“What?” you managed to squeak out, and his grin widened at your reaction.

“C’mon, princess. You gotta up the stakes a little here.”

You could feel your cheeks burning, and you resisted the urge to chew on your lower lip at the suggestion.

It’s fine, you told yourself. He’s not being serious, and even if he was, that’s not going to happen.

“B,” you said.

It took him a second to process it before he lifted an eyebrow, amusement already dancing in his eyes, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“B minus.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “B minus on your next exam and… Whatever. That.”

Maybe the way he leaned back in his chair with this satisfied, shit-eating grin should have alarmed you, but truth be told, you didn’t think anything of it.

Clearly, that had been your mistake, because when he triumphantly walked over to your little corner in the library, isolated and well hidden behind rows of books, and slammed a piece of paper on the table, all you could do was blink. A big red ‘B-‘ was circled at the top.

“The old bat thinks I cheated and she might not count it,” Eddie said, “but that’s the proof right there.”

“That’s—” you grabbed the paper, eyes quickly scanning the answers, recognizing the subject you’d been trying — and failing — to teach him about. “That’s really good,” you admitted. “Well done, Eddie,” you added, shooting him a bright smile.

For a second, all he did was stare, eyes widening a little, and then he cleared his throat, turning around swiftly enough that you couldn’t see the blush creeping on his face, so you were faced with the symbol of some rock band you didn’t know on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I had an incentive.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, and that was when it dawned on you.

The kiss.

He’d been serious about that?

You felt your heart leap in your throat immediately, heart starting to hammer without a warning at the thought of kissing Eddie. You’d been so, so sure he hadn’t meant it.

“Don’t—” you could feel your voice falling into a whisper. “Don’t make fun of me, Eddie.”

It wasn’t not like it would be the first time a guy’s pretended to show interest only to rub in your face how stupid you were for thinking it was sincere later on.

The surprise on Eddie’s face, if anything, was an indication that that kind of cruelty hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“What? I’m not making fun of— I’m the one who asked! What do you even—”

You took a deep breath, and he watched your demeanor carefully, brow furrowed.

“Hey, you know, it’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“No!” you were quick to protest — a little too quick, and you cursed yourself immediately. What if now he thought you were interested? What if he thought it was weird, or gross? What if your interest made you ridiculous in his eyes? You wished the thoughts wouldn’t plague you, but you simply couldn’t help it. Maybe, if anyone had shown you sincere interest at any point, you wouldn’t have such a hard time with it. “No, it’s, uh— I said I’d do it, right?”

“Right, but you don’t look thrilled about it, so if you want to back out, you know that’d be cool with me, right? I wouldn’t force you to do anything, you know?”

Finally, you relaxed a little, enough to give Eddie a small smile.

“I know, sorry, I’m just— I’m a little nervous.”

He shook his head, raising his hands as if to show you he didn’t mean harm.

“Hey, no problem, I’m not asking you to marry me, you know? It won’t mean anything, it’s just for fun.”

Your heart sank so brutally it might as well have dropped out of your chest. Of course. Of course. Why would it mean anything? Why would you have even entertained that thought?

“No, no, I know,” you protested — too quickly once more, “it’s just I don’t, uh, have a ton of experience? So I’m a little nervous.”

That was an interesting understatement, only technically not a lie, but you were not going to tell him that this was your first kiss. You couldn’t. You knew for a fact you were far from the only person in Hawkins High with no experience, and yet you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of shame over it — couldn’t help but tell yourself that no one had ever found you interesting or attractive enough to pursue you, and that it was on you. The fact that you’d be kissing him over some— bet only added to the embarrassment, and after what he’d just said… Well. You didn’t feel like letting him know was even an option.

Thankfully, Eddie wasn’t privy to all the thoughts that were spinning in your mind, and he just grinned at your admission.

“You don’t have to worry about that, princess. I’m a good enough kisser for the two of us. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself and, well, if I have to sacrifice myself for that, I say that’s a pretty good way to go, wouldn’t you say?”

This time, you couldn’t help but letting out a chuckle. Eddie was good at that, releasing tension with jokes. He seemed to easily feel when the people around him needed a laugh, and he wasn’t afraid to let his pride take a hit if it made them feel better.

That was something you really, really liked about him.

“Fine, so, uh…” You got up from your chair somewhat awkwardly. “Should we…?”

He gasped and faked a pearl-clutching motion.

“In the library? My, that goes against all of my principles!”

It was your turn to give him a grin.

“I mean, if you don’t want to…”

His demeanor shifted instantly, and so did his eyes. The way he took you in, eyes quickly traveling down your body and back up almost made you shiver. Your stomach twisted into a knot, your breath quickened, and you realized that this was actually happening. You were about to kiss Eddie Munson. In the library, of all places, fortunately almost completely empty at this time.

He took a step towards you, and you stood in place, leaning back just a little to rest some of your weight on the table. Eddie didn’t stop until he was standing right against you, and you found yourself gripping the table as a desperate attempt of keeping your heart under control. With how loud it was beating, you had a hard time believing he couldn’t tell.

“Oh, I want to,” he said, one of his hands coming to cup your face. It felt rough and calloused against your skin, but you didn’t mind. You held his gaze at first as he studied you, all too aware of how close his chest was, how his hips were almost against yours. You didn’t dare to touch him, unsure of where your hands should go, where they were supposed to go. After a few seconds, though, you could feel yourself grow heated under his touch, and you were sure he could tell.

Averting your eyes, you mumbled “So, are we doing this, or—”

His mouth was on yours immediately, and you gasped. His hand was still on your cheek, thumb coming under your jaw to tilt your head up, and it was all your mind could focus on. He kissed you slowly, lips moving against yours carefully, but with an underlying eagerness that had his body tense as a bowstring as he tried to hold himself back, tried not to scare you away. He’d promised you you would enjoy this, and he would make sure you would. He wasn’t going to— to fucking pounce on you like an animal, when you’d just told him you were nervous.

No matter how much he wanted to.

You didn’t notice him opening and closing his hand near your waist, resisting the urge to pull you closer.

Your eyes were closed, kissing back almost carefully. His body felt hot against yours, but maybe you were the one heating up, you genuinely couldn’t say. Finally, one of your hands came to rest on his arm, and another one moved higher, fingers hesitantly threading through his long hair. You weren’t sure of what you were doing exactly, but you did know you wanted more of— of this.

He pulled away just a second, allowing the two of you to breathe, and he opened his eyes to get a good look at you.

It turned out that that was a mistake if he wanted to keep behaving himself. Seeing you so close, with your eyes focused on him, lips parted and slightly swollen, panting softly— that was a sight that almost drove him crazy.

He leaned forward again, eagerly, kissing you harder, hand gripping the table with everything he had to keep himself in check.

And then, he felt you moaning softly into his mouth, and that was when he finally lost it.

His hand came to grab your waist, pulling you closer, hips now pressed into yours, chest flushed against you. You were just so fucking soft under him, head tilted up towards him. There was so much he wanted to do to you.

You tried to respond in kind to his energy, fingers pulling on his hair a little as if there was a way for your mouths to get closer. You were pressed against the table, body slowly leaning back, your knees threatening to give in underneath you. Finally, you felt his tongue brushing against yours, and you moaned again, which only seemed to make him more eager.

Your elbow had come to rest on the table and you were half laying on it when he stopped abruptly, body half-covering yours. Another uncontrollable, but fortunately quiet, moan escaped you once more, and Eddie had to do his best both to stop himself and to hold back his own groan. How the fuck was he ever supposed to stop if you sounded like that?

This was just— this was just unfair.

Damn, he should have gotten you to his car before cashing in on that kiss, then he wouldn’t have felt so bad, but you’d been standing there looking like such an angel, and then you’d started teasing, and he just— He hadn’t been able to hold back.

But he definitely wasn’t going to fuck you in the library.

Not that he’d have minded, or that he hadn’t gotten handsy in here before, but he— That wasn’t how he wanted things to go, for his first time with you. Even if the way you were looking at him right now, with your beautiful eyes wide and expectant, pupils dilated, half-laying on the table, made you the most tempting thing he’d ever seen.

Truth be told, it terrified him, how you made him feel. The desire, he could take, he could act on, but he knew he’d crumble the second you’d touch him in any other way.

“E-everything okay?” you asked, worried eyes searching his when he didn’t move, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

He was quick to move away, taking that hand in his instead to pull you back on your feet.

“So, what’s your verdict?” he asked with a grin, just as quick to let go of you and to take a step back, the best way to make sure he didn’t do something stupid. “Am I a good kisser or what?”

You hadn’t thought your cheeks could burn even more.

“Um,” you mumbled. “Yes. Good. Was it— Did you, uh, enjoy yourself as well?”

You didn’t manage to read the emotion that passed on his face then, but he swallowed, and then he nodded.

“Yeah, princess. I definitely enjoyed myself.”

The words brought a small smile to your lips that you tried your best to hide. He didn’t add anything, though, and the silence that followed was incredibly awkward.

“So, do you want to work on—”

“It’s going to be weird if I stay,” Eddie interrupted you quickly. “We should just skip the lesson for today.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, right, you’re— you’re probably right about that.”

“But we could do that again later this week.” A silence. “Working together, I mean.”

Why had he said that? He could have just left it hanging, for fuck’s sake, and— He was behaving like a fucking freshman. What the fuck.

“Sure, sure,” you were quick to agree. “So I’ll… see you next time?”

“Right. See you.”

When Eddie fled the scene, you were left wondering what had come over you just minutes ago, and trying to quell the beating of your heart. Your fingers ghosted over your lips, and you found yourself chuckling to yourself without making a sound. You weren’t sure what to make of all of this, but even your anxious mind had to come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have kissed you like that if he wasn’t at least attracted to you, and that thought was— nice. You could live with that.

If you’d seen the triumphant way Eddie punched the air with his fist when he walked out of the library, it would only barely have added to the little cloud you were sitting on right now.

a/n (bis): thank you so much for reading! i hope you liked this little addition to the ‘series’, it was a lot of fun to write. i don’t know yet when/if i’ll write more, it’ll depend on whether or not i get any ideas, but if you enjoyed it, don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask, reblog or leave a lil comment! they mean the world to us writers and do wonders to keep us writing 😊

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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averyhollow · 1 year

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Edward Did A Ton Of Things Wrong And We Shouldn’t Pretend Otherwise. Not Even As A Joke.

I know it’s fun to joke about Edward Teach doing nothing wrong, but I think it’s been taken far too far. His wrongs are serious and major and deserve closer examination.

He fell for a rich landed gentleman, and only the rich landed gentleman, when Frenchie was right there. Frenchie was displaying bravery and insightfulness while stupid fucking Stede Bonnet was laid up in a fever dream, moaning some other person’s name.

Ed didn’t fall on Frenchie and start kissing him when Frenchie immediately picked up on the fact that the French versions of Stede Bonnet had hurt him.

He’s more enamored of Stede’s incitement of chaos and distress on the French boat than he has any right to be with Frenchie right there. What did Stede do? A little reverse psychology that played on their inadequacies to get the French gentry to play the game. That’s it. All the real work was done because Frenchie knew where to go for the dirt, and thanks to connections Frenchie formed. While it was cool that Stede knew how to get them to play themselves by agreeing to the game, it wasn’t a necessary step as the information could’ve been relayed other ways. Plus, Frenchie pointed out to Stede they weren’t all that fancy, so he probably would’ve known how to get them to set themselves up to, and could’ve give Ed the satisfaction of being the one to entice them into the game and deliver the info.

He continues to be interested in Stede and only Stede, while Frenchie is right fucking there! Had he taken the time to get to know Frenchie, he might’ve realized Frenchie could teach him much of what Stede could, but with more nuance and detail.

In conclusion, Edward did everything wrong where it matters. We shouldn’t gloss over his mistakes and moments of bad judgement. They’re a part of what makes him the person he is. It’s uncomfortable to think about, and I have a hard time coming to grips with it myself, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna just hide from reality and pretend the man has no major shortcomings.

He could be sleeping with Izzy and Frenchie, while Spanish Jackie watches and gives directions and tips and joins in if it so pleases her (and if they’re so lucky), right now. Instead, he’s off somewhere nursing the pain left by a man who says “hi all”. If that ain’t a wrong, then right don’t exist.

#Spanish Jackie #edward teach #ofmd frenchie #frenchie ofmd #izzy hands #izzy ofmd #stede critical #ofmd

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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The doorbell rings, for the billionth time that night, and Keith groans.

“Please,” he begs, “please can we pretend we’re not home.”

His husband gleefully ignores him, disappearing with a faint ‘pop’ sound. If Keith let his ears hear as far as they would like, he’d hear another faint pop as Lance reappeared in front of their door, candy bowl in hand, and the subsequent delighted gasps of various costumed children. He’s hear the young voices yell ‘trick or treat!’ in unison, and mourn the time when he very well could give them a trick instead, as Lance fawns over their little costumes, shovels a truly ridiculous amount of candy into their little pails, and then poofs back into the living room.

But he does not listen in, because he is — as Lance says — the Scrooge of Halloween, and refuses to find any joy in the stupid holiday.

“You are going to get yourself caught,” he mumbles into Lance’s hair, once the witch has resettled on the couch.

“Am not, batboy,” Lance responds breezily, leaning into Keith’s hold. “And so what if I get caught? What’re they going to do? Burn me at the stake again?”

“You jest, but that was a horrible thing to witness. I can’t believe how stupidly happy those asshole pastors and judges were.”

Lance hums, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. “That was 400 years ago, my love. Let’s let the past stay in the past, hm? Plus, it didn’t even hurt, and you bled those motherfuckers dry, anyway.”

“And they were delicious,” Keith growls.

“Mm, somehow I doubt that. Didn’t the abundance of lead in every living surface in the 1600s make blood taste bitter?”

“…Okay, yes, but the satisfaction was very sweet.”

He feels Lance’s smile where its pressed into his collarbone. “Of course, cielo.”

They have a single moment of peace, then Keith’s ears twitch, and he growls.

Lance grins wider. “Hear some footsteps?”

“Your insistence on indulging this stupid tradition is making me want to break my no-eating-children rule.”

Lance laughs as he gets up — again — and puts on his truly gigantic witch’s hat, which is objectively kind of funny, but Lance has been making that joke since the 70s so Keith refuses to laugh. “Haven’t you heard Hansel and Gretel’s story, my love? Eating children is my job.” His eyes twinkle with mirth (literally. He lets a flash of green envelop his irises when he’s amused. Every time). “Don’t you know I’m fattening them up for a reason?”

He pops away again as the doorbell rings. Keith rolls his eyes fondly, unmuting the TV — a human invention he’s admittedly quite fond of — and watching absentmindedly some silly, animated character tries to outwit a bedlam.

Keith scoffs. As if a human could outsmart a bedlam. Those bitches could outsmart G-d. (Keith knows. He’s talked to the guy. Not very bright, that one, despite knowing all information ever to be known.)

“Oh, those ones were so cute!” Lance coos, popping back onto the couch. Keith rolls his eyes again.

Children-eater, his ass.

“The youngest one could barely walk on her little legs. She had the most adorable little fairy costume —”

Keith perks up. “Really? A faerie costume? With the empty eyes and sharp teeth and everything?”

“No, you dork. One of the fake fairies. The human-made ones.”

“Oh.” Keith pouts. Of course humans can’t even get a simply faerie right — as if the fae have tiny iridescent wings and slave their lives away keeping human lives in balance.

(Tinkerbell was a blight to human society. Pidge was so offended when she saw it that she snapped the disc used it to stab the last person she saw litter in her forest.

It was hilarious.)

“I hate humans,” Keith grumps. “They tolerable before, but now they’re infuriating. Damn the printing press.”

Lance bursts out laughing. “I promise you that humans were annoying long before literacy was widespread.”

“Yeah, but at least then I didn’t have to hear about it.”

“No? You never once donned your velvet cape and lace blouse and went looking for human gossip? I seem to recall you taking me to a masquerade ball or seventy in the gothic era, and you were quite happy to do so.”

…Fuck. Lance knows him too well.

“That was different,” Keith insists, lying like a liar. “Gothic era gossip was hilarious. They were terrified of me. I can’t count how many humans would whisper warnings to me about ‘dangerous blood-suckers living in the castle in the mountains’ only to faint when they saw my fangs. Now that —” Keith sighs wistfully — “that was an era.”

Lance places a gentle, mocking hand on his shoulder. “There, there, batboy. Humans still tremble at the thought of you and all the other Edward Cullens of the world.”

Keith glares at his husband, but there’s no heat behind it and the man knows it, judging by his smug, sunny smile. “You are a menace,” he says, leaning over and nipping his ear, just sharp enough to draw blood. “How dare you bring up that… disgrace to the vampire name.”

“The bane of your existence?” Lance clarifies, giggling. “The main reason you have so much beef with the 21st century?”

“I’m completely justified!” Keith cries, digging his fingers into Lance’s ribs. “Now humans write horny fanfiction about my kind instead of wallowing in terror! It’s horrible!”

“I mean, I get why they’re so lusty,” Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows. “There’s a certain something about those teeth, let me tell you.”

If Keith could blush, he would, but luckily for him he left that behind several hundred years ago.

(A thousand years ago?

Whatever. He’s been alive a long-ass time. Years start to blur.)

He grabs Lance by the ankle, pulling him closer and leaning down to press sharp kisses up his calf.

“Trying to ask for something?” he asks, voice muffled into Lance’s warm skin.

“Definitely trying to get somewhere,” Lance says, voice breathy and affected. “You should —”

Ding-dong!

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Keith yells, and Lance bursts out laughing, hands pressed to his reddened face.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “I think we’re done with trick or treating for tonight.”

He snaps his fingers, and a bowl painted like a jack-o-latern filled with candy appears hovering in front of him. He pulls it gently towards him, whispers something in Latin, and tosses the bowl in the air. It hovers directly above them, bright green smoke billowing around it in opaque clouds, before the smoke clears, leaving the bowl looking unchanged. Lance snaps his fingers again and the bowl pops out of existence again.

“There,” Lance says with no small amount of satisfaction. “Now they can get their own candy, and they won’t be able to take more than two, so it should last.”

Keith sighs, pretending to be indifferent, but really he’s just all fond and squishy. He hates halloween, sure — but he loves his husband, and his husband loves halloween, so he’ll put up with the holiday with as minimal complaining as possible.

Keith grins, devilish and sly. Besides, he thinks, the annoying part of halloween is over, now. Now comes the good part: Lance is always more…energetic, when there’s dark magic in the air.

And all hallow’s eve has plenty of dark magic hanging over every street corner.

“Now that there are no more interruptions,” he says, manhandling Lance until he’s straddling Keith’s hips, arms around his shoulders, their faces inches apart. “I think we were getting somewhere.”

Lance smirks, closing the distance.

“Yes, I think we were.”

#HAPPY HALLOWEEN MY LOVES #take ur spooky voltron special!!!#this is silly and fluffy but the Lore i came up with for this universe…#vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #established klance #klance fluff #banter #witch lance #vampire keith #domestic fluff #my writing #fic fragment

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judeswhore · 7 months

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Bsf Jude and you guys have known each other forever and your like mums are friends and both your family’s are really close. And you guys have been bf/gf for like 6ish months but you guys don’t wanna tell ur parents for some reason. Your with your and his family watching one of his matches at home and it’s like his 50th game for madrid or like he acudes a goal and ur so proud of him that when he comes in through the door your jumping on him and kissing him because your so so so proud of him. and everyone is like ?!?!?!?!?!?! and when you tell them it’s been 6 months there shocked. Like obviously some of them suspected you’d have liked each other for years. and they’re all in awe when Jude is lying down on top of you asleep cuz it’s so obvious you guys are inlove 🥹. (so sorry this is long)

bsf!jude my beloved<3 not wanting to tell ur families yet bc u know they’ll make a huge deal out of it bc they’ve been waiting for u to admit ur in love for years now and u just don’t wna give them the satisfaction. so it’s been 6 months of just pretending ur friends but you’ve always been so close and touchy that u can get away with snuggling and always spending time together bc that’s what you’ve always been like. but ur at a match w his family and maybe urs have come to visit too bc it’s ur bday that week and they all wna celebrate together and jude scores a hattrick or something and ur absolutely ready to explode with how proud u are. and when he comes out to see youse afterwards ur both so caught up, u in being proud and jude in just wanting to celebrate with his girlfriend that u forget who’s around u and u just launch urself at him. and that’s normal at first, he picks u up and spins u around like he usually does but then he’s grabbing ur face and kissing u and everyone is stunned into silence bc that’s new. only pulling away when someone clears their throat and then they’re all looking at u like???? asking u to explain. being so happy that u cant even be annoyed at outing urselves and jude’s just wrapping his arms around u from behind, grinning so brightly and shrugging all “we were gna tell u eventually” and his mams asking how long it’s been going on wondering how she’d missed it when u spend so much time around her. telling them six months and that confuses everyone even more bc they genuinely don’t know how they didn’t catch on. all the congratulations happening when the shock has warn off and now u and jude are just happy that u don’t have to hide in the kitchen to kiss

#hey jude :)

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

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Goin’ About 99

Kinkmas Day 3: Road Head

Relationship: conman!Ari Levinson x fence!fem reader (mustang and cherry, Poison Paradise AU)

Words: ~1.1k

Summary: Annoying Ari is always fun…

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, semi-public sex, spitting, mentions of unprotected vaginal sex and choking, mentions of rough sex, mentions of female masturbation), teasing, established relationship, implied criminal doings, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: they’re so sassy and fun!!! Ugh, love them and their love/hate relationship and how fun their kids are gonna be.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“God, these rich assholes really do go all out for the holidays, don’t they?” You snorted softly when Ari pulled the mustang over, looking at all the extravagant lights before scooting closer to him and resting your chin on his shoulder. “We here to make out?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes at you when you brushed your lips over his jaw, shrugging you off and shaking his head at your pout while he gave you a wry smirk. “I’m here to do recon on my mark, behave yourself.”

“You are so fucking bitchy when you’re working, oh my god.” You sat back in your seat and propped your feet on the dashboard, ignoring his scoff and fiddling with the hem of your skirt while you pouted. “Why the fuck did you bring me if we’re not going to do anything?”

“Because you whined like a damn brat about spending Christmas Eve by yourself and I didn’t feel like dealing with you mouthing off when I got home.” He grunted when you reached over to run your fingers through his hair, bringing up the binoculars when he saw movement in front of the old broad’s house and trying to ignore the way you tugged on his locks. “Plus you look cute in your little cardigan and skirt, sue me.”

“If I look so cute, why are you staring at the ancient bitch you’re gonna fuck in a few weeks?” You gave his hair a good yank before withdrawing your touch, whining softly and wiggling in your seat when he still didn’t turn his full attention to you. “What can she possibly have that would make that old, dried up pussy worth it?”

“Jesus Christ, you know I don’t fuck them, just make them think I’m going to, quit being a jealous cunt.” He growled when you started trailing your fingers over his bicep, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing just how hard your attitude and soft touches were making him. “And she has an original Monet, I’d say that’s worth it.”

“I think you just have a thing for saggy tits, but an original Monet would be impressive.” You grinned when he squirmed at you teasing your fingertips under his collar, turning so you could place your other hand on his thigh while he still pretended to ignore you. “If your info is right and it’s not another fake.”

“That’s why I’m doing the recon.” He shot you a sideways look when he set the binoculars aside, putting the car into gear and pulling out when he saw the town car leaving the house. “Now shut the fuck up and let me focus.”

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” You purred and scooted even closer to him, nuzzling at his shoulder while the car started moving while your hand rubbed along his thigh. “You know I can’t stop talking unless I have something else to do with my mouth, so…”

“Jesus… shit!” Ari almost stripped the gears when he practically over shifted when your hand was suddenly squeezing his bulge, your tongue and lips brushing along the side of his neck and making the car feel even warmer. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Keeping myself occupied.” You hummed softly as you started to undo his fly, kissing your way down his arm before ducking under it while you drew his thick cock out of his pants and gave him a firm stroke. “Now focus on your job, mustang.”

Ari hissed when you spat on his tip before you started kissing it messily, his knuckles getting white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel while a flush started creeping up his body. Your mouth was like fucking heaven, he wasn’t even inside it yet and he was already leaking like a damn faucet , he could feel it dripping down his balls. He should honestly be pissed that no matter how much he acted like you annoyed the shit out of him, he was basically wrapped around your little finger. Why else would he have brought you with him when he knew you were gonna drive him fucking insane with your flirty little attitude?

The wretched sound he made when you finally wrapped your lips around his spongy head sent a shiver through your whole body, your thighs clenching together when you drew them up onto the bench seat as you stretched so you could be as close to sprawled over his lap. Your jaw was already aching even though you weren’t even taking half of him yet, the low humming noises you let out every time you drew him deeper making his cock jump against your tongue. He tasted so fucking good, having him in your mouth might have been your favorite thing, except for when he bent you in half and wrapped his hand around your throat while he called you a bitch as he fucked you through the floor.

“Motherfuck!” The car swerved dangerously when you finally deepthroated him at the same time you squeezed his balls, Ari growling at the assholes who decided to honk at him when he almost crashed even as his hips subtly rocked into your face as his core drew tighter. “Woman, you’re gonna kill the both of us, Christ.”

All you could do was hum your agreement, squeaking around his dick when he reached over to yank your skirt up then slap your ass while you kept fucking your face on his cock. It was easy to tell he was close by the way he was throbbing in your mouth, your tongue running all over his shaft and head greedily while you increased the speed of your bobbing before burying your nose in the coarse hair at his base.

“That’s it, good fucking girl.” Ari was grateful for the red light when he started to cum, grabbing the back of your head and forcing himself down your throat fully so he could feed you every single drop of his cum as he groaned hoarsely. “Shit, Cherry, don’t fucking move.

“Why?” You gulped down air when you let him slide out of your mouth and rested your cheek on his thigh, giving him a sloppy grin after you tucked him back in. “What’s up?”

“There’s a fucking cop right next to us, little girl, I’m serious.” He growled when you made like you were going to sit up and wave at the pig, patting your cheek when you settled and turned onto your back then starting to unbutton your cardigan and blouse. “Now, keep your head in my lap and play with your pussy while I keep following this old bitch, and I’ll do that thing you love where I just bounce you on my dick when we get home.”

#natalie writes #natalie’s kinkmas 2022 #poison paradise #mustang and cherry #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #eighteen and over #eighteen plus

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stylesxreads · 2 years

Text

Just Friends (part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Pairing: Conrad Fisher x Reader

Summary: After conflict with Conrad you try to go through the summer as normal but you both find it increasingly difficult.

It’s been two weeks since the bonfire. You wish you could say that everything went back to normal the next day but it didn’t. Everything was far from normal. You tried your best to act like nothing happened, to pretend that you didn’t care about what Conrad said.

You two avoided each other like the plague. Everyone noticed. How could they not? You and Conrad used to be attached to the hip whenever you were here at Cousins and now your guys can’t even look at each other.

Nobody asks about it though, sometimes your moms will give you questioning looks or just ask if something’s wrong. You never said anything though, just shook your head no every time.

It was awful, ignoring Conrad. It was awful being apart from Conrad. As much as you loved spending time with everyone else, your heart longed to be next to Conrad all the time.

At dinner you still sat across from each other, having designated seating since forever. It made meals incredibly awkward for you, looking anywhere but straight ahead. Sometimes you’d feel his eyes on you but you would never look back.

You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

What made things even worse was Conrad constantly had Nicole over whenever everyone would hang out. You wouldn’t mind normally, besides the fact that they would show an ungodly amount of PDA. You wish it didn’t other you. You wish you didn’t care about Conrad the way that you do.

“Y/n! We’re getting ready to leave, are you ready?” Your mom knocked on your door.

Belly had deb practice, Jere, Steven and John were all working at the country club and Conrad was who knows where. So you were left to go into town with the moms.

Spending time with the moms wasn’t too bad. The guys hated going out with the moms because they just sat in chairs waiting for them to be finished shopping. But you didn’t mind, mostly because they would buy you things too if you tagged along

“Oh this is beautiful! I think Belly would like it for the deb picnic?” Your mom pulled a dress off the rack. Laurel scrunched her nose and shook her head. She wasn’t too keen on Belly being a deb this year, you think she just isn’t ready to see Belly grow up.

“I think that would be a great idea!” Susannah smiled, inspecting the dress.

“You know.. I’m still bummed I didn’t get to see you be a deb.” Susannah whispered to you.

You tried to disguise your sadness with a smile.

“Always wanted to see in a big white dress with your hair and make up all done.” She laughed. “I was certain you would go and have Connie as your escort.” She continued to say, making your heart incredibly sad.

“Yeah.. That’s alright though.” You shrugged it off with a small laugh. “Maybe we’ll convince Jere to take Belly.” You smiled but she instantly shook her head no.

“Oh no no, I think she’ll ask John.” She wiggled her eyebrows making your face scrunch.

“John? As in my brother John??”

“Oh please. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the two of them these past two weeks. They’re bound to happen.” She shrugged with a smirk on her face.

“Kinda like you and Connie.” She whispered mischievously before scurrying off to catch up with the other moms. You were left speechless.

If only she knew.

They ended up getting the dress for Belly along with 4 other dresses for you guys because Susannah insisted that everyone go to the picnic to support Belly.

Your next stop was at the Country Club. You’re not really sure why but Susannah said they had business to take care of. You’re pretty sure they just wanted free drinks.

So the moms wandered off, leaving you to wander the premises by yourself. After about 10 minutes of you walking around aimlessly you settled down on a table outside by the pool, facing the ocean.

The constant chatter of kids and parents surrounded you. You had no idea how long you were going to be here and you wished you would’ve brought a book or something.

Your phone buzzed on the table.

Susannah: Laurel forgot she has a book signing at the shop! We had to leave ASAP. But don’t worry, I told Conrad to go pick you up.. :)

Your eyes widened at the text. You’d rather walk home than have to ride with Conrad.

You searched the pool area, hoping to see Jeremiah. Maybe you could take his car home and he can catch a ride with Steven home.

“John!” You shouted, seeing your brother sat on the life guard post. “Where’s Jeremiah?”

“He went to go get the keys to the chemical closet! Pretty sure he’s where the debs are practicing their dance!” He hollered back.

You stood from your spot, walking to the other side of the facility to the ballroom.

Sure enough, Jeremiah crashed the deb’s dance practice. You giggled as he danced against Belly, the instructors face was very disturbed.

“Alexa off. Jeremiah Fisher, what are you doing here?”

“Code brown. We lost the keys to the chemical closet.” He shrugged his shoulders, with an innocent smile on his face. She tossed him the keys and pointed to the door.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” He smiled when he saw you on the other side of the door.

“The moms left me stranded.” You chuckled with a small eye roll. “Do you think I could take your car home and you ride with Steven later?” You raised an eyebrow with a hopeful smile. Please say yes.

“Oh sure! Keys are in my locker, let’s go.” He linked his arm in yours and you both turned towards the door.

Only to be met with Conrad himself.

“That’s okay. Mom sent me to come get her.” He gestured towards me, then dropping his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Alright then.” Jeremiah patted your back. “I better go before I get fired. The poop awaits!” He laughed before running past Conrad and out the door.

Fuck.

“Hey.” Conrad offered you a tight lipped smile. You sighed and walked past him out the door.

You were silent the whole walk to the car, contemplating getting into his back seat just to avoid having to sit next to him. You didn’t though, Conrad opened the passenger door for you, letting you slide in before closing it and going to the driver’s side.

Your heart was beating stupidly fast. It’s been 2 weeks since you’ve been alone with Conrad in general.

He didn’t start the car when he got in, you both just sat in silence for a moment.

“Y/n..” His voice was soft. It took every bone in your body not to immediately turn to look at him. You stayed still, eyes forward. It wasn’t until his hand reached across the console, resting on your knee that your body jerked alive.

Your head whipped in his direction, the small physical contact shocking your body.

“I- I don’t like how things have been..” His eyes were stuck on yours. “I was a jerk to you.. I don’t have any reason or excuses. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Summer is supposed to be fun for everyone and I started it off poorly.”

You nodded your head, agreeing with every single word he was saying.

“I don’t want us to keep ignoring each other.” He frowned. You were annoyed to say the least, Conrad was the one that gave you the cold shoulder first. The day after the bonfire he wouldn’t look at you, barely said a word to you

“And who’s fault is that?” You retorted.

“I know. It’s mine and I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you please.. You’re my best friend y/n.” He pleaded with you, his hand squeezed your knee slightly, sending shivers down your spine. Your body softened and you knew you were done for. You couldn’t stay mad when he was looking at you with those sad eyes.

“Okay..” You gave in too quickly for your liking. He smiled, reaching over the console and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

“You know you can talk to me though, Con..” You whispered in his ears. “I’m serious.” He pulled back and nodded slowly.

“I know.” He nodded with a small smile. “Come on, let’s go home and watch a movie while everyone’s still out.” He smiled mischievously while pulling out of the parking lot.

Were you completely over what happened the night of the bonfire? No. It still bothered you, but you knew that if you didn’t move on and at least try to fix things with Conrad the summer would be brutally slow and painful.

The drive back to the house was short but it was probably because the two of you talked the whole way home. Having not talked at all for the past 2 weeks, there seemed to be a lot both of you wanted to say. It felt normal again.

There were still a lot of things that needed to be resolved between the two of you. But at this moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t thinking about Nicole, you weren’t thinking about your little argument.

You weren’t thinking about the rest of the summer or what could possibly happen next.

It was just Conrad.

It’ll always be Conrad.

Part 4 soon..

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher fanfiction #conrad fisher imagine #chris briney #chris briney imagine #chris briney fanfic #chris briney fanfiction #the summer i turned pretty fanfiction #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #tsitp fanfic

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narcolini · 9 months

Text

night//morning - pt. 2

part one - ao3 link luca x marcus (or luca & marcus tbh), 2.6k, i have no idea what to label this i can't lie. pining and un-satisfaction tagging: @drabbles-mc @ashlingiswriting @garbinge @hausofmamadas (bear squad jeje)

Tuesday, 05:48:

‘Hey mate, um, hope you’re doing alright. Just thought I’d check in and, yeah, well, actually I had something I wanted to talk to you about. No rush, of course, but when you’ve got a minute—and everything’s, you know, less intense. Just, um, give me a bell when you can. Cheers.’

Seen, 22:53.

‘That’s not yours.’

Four ounces will do twelve, six will do eighteen.

‘Luca.’

‘Yes, chef?’

‘That’s not your dough.’

‘What?’ He straightens, palms stilling on the floured edges. ‘Shit. That’s the…’

‘The filo.’

‘The filo, right. Sorry.’ Not the shortcrust he’d made, but the pastry she’d taken out of the fridge herself. He’d even reached across her to grab it. Mind in the locker room behind, sense on the wood-panelled floor of his bedroom. He’s spun the filo into a useless ball in his daze, patted it with flour it didn’t need, fucked up her prep entirely. ‘That’s my fault, Ali.’

‘Yeah.’ She scoffs, but there’s no malice in it. There’s no time for that.

‘I’ll make more.’

Ali nods, eyeing him from the side as he sets about fixing his mistake.

It wasn’t an easily made mistake, it wasn’t even a common one. It was an absolutely absurd thing for anyone with even a crumb of kitchen experience to do. They both know that, so there’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise. In shutting the door for the sake of pride.

‘I haven’t been focusing,’ he says. Bowl, flour, oil. Bin the old and wipe down the counter before starting again. ‘Got a friend and…Yeah, he’s been on my mind a lot. Haven’t been sleeping well.’

She does him the mercy of ignoring the pause that slipped between friend and—friend and—to say, ‘I can tell,’ instead. ‘It’s not like you.’

He nods. ‘I know.’

‘To mistake filo for shortcrust.’

‘I know, mate.’ He laughs, smile spreading, all corners and teeth. ‘You gonna rub that in all day?’

She shrugs. ‘Maybe all week.’

‘Alright, cool, I deserve a week.’

But with Ali, it’s never a week, it’s twenty minutes and then it’s forgotten about, because stress sits on her like lead. Shoulders down, jaw tight. He never gets a word from her after opening. Whether he’d been her best friend that day, or the nitpicking prat by her ear.

‘Have you spoken to him about it?’ she asks, reaching for the shortcrust that he was supposed to be working with. Picking up slack like they’re trained to do. ‘Problems shared, and all that.’

‘Sent him a few voice notes.’ One, to be exact, three days after the last message Marcus had sent. ‘I don’t want to push him.’

‘So he’s going through some shit,’ she deducts. ‘And you’re dragging yourself through the same shit, along with him?’

He sighs, talking around the end of it, ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘You know what I’m going to say,’ she adds, throwing a smile that he only catches the shadow of. Wry and knowing.

‘Yeah.’ Can’t help anyone when you’re both in the mud. ‘Thanks, Ali.’

She nods, chin flicking to his half-made dough. ‘Thank me by working faster.’

‘Alright.’

Faster and more efficiently. More focused. He pushes his hands into the mix, knuckles deep, welcomes the attention it requires from him like a rope thrown overboard. A gnarled root on the edge of the pit.

For the rest of the day, that’s all there is. Ali as a silent partner, in tandem, in sync. Rudy talking about football through every break they overlap on. The mice in the bins, the customer sending his praises to the chef.

Open, service, shut. Then the cold of his pillow as he gets into bed again.

And still no reply from Marcus, either. Just a little thumbs up, pinned to the corner of his voice note, sent some time around lunch.

He’s seen it, at least, listened and agreed to get back to him when possible. So it’s Luca’s turn to wait again, because he can’t do more than that. Shouldn’t, even. It’s easy to add things, fix the acid, sweeten the sour, but harder to take them away. He has to remember that. At one end of the spectrum, is that shit with Frankie, and at the other? This mania he’s driving himself into with Marcus, brakes off, steam pluming.

It’s not like him. It’s deeply unlike him, even, he’s unfamiliar and stumbling because of it.

Control what you can, control the reaction to what you can’t.

‘Fucking hell.’ He draws the fuck out, long and groaning, and presses his palms over his eyes. Finally time to rest and he’s lying here thinking about it, turning it over and over, fold mix fold. ‘Get a grip, man.’

Marcus is fine. And he’s fine. There’s no way to perfect a recipe with an undecided end product, no fine tuning to be made on a relationship with no future. Spending this much of his time trying to do so, will only twist him further into the ground. Bury him neck deep.

His phone buzzes then—buzzes because it’s still on silent from work, audible against the wood of his bedside. He’s on it before it gets to the second round of vibrations. Taps answer before he realises it’s a video call, and not just the usual voice-only chat.

Marcus appears on his screen, well, the top half of his head does, the bottom is lost somewhere beneath the home button. ‘Shit,’ he laughs, ‘you answered too quick, man. I’m still—hang on.’

‘Yeah, course.’

It’s near black in Luca’s bedroom, his own image nothing but a pixelated blob of grey in the bottom corner. He clicks the lamp on while Marcus finishes whatever he’s doing and, God, shit, that won’t work. He looks like the fucking personification of pillow-talk. Amber lighting, bed-squashed hair, bare shoulders against his mattress.

He sits upright, and holds the phone at an appropriate angle.

‘Wasn’t expecting you to call this late,’ he says.

Marcus’s beanie bobs back into frame. ‘It’s only late for you, dude.’

‘Right, obviously.’

‘Sorry—there. All done.’ His face fills the screen at last, still angled like he’s got the phone sitting on his chest, but his smile is there now. Cheeks to either side of Luca’s phone. ‘You good?’

‘I’m alright.’ He nods. Puts his free arm across his chest, hand anchoring on the shoulder. ‘Are you on break?’

‘Nah, had the morning off to sort some things out. Heading over there now.’

‘Cool. Nice.’

‘Yeah, real fun.’ Marcus laughs, dry and unaffected. ‘Sure love spending the morning with some anaemic-looking dinosaur, going over Mom’s will.’

He mirrors the empty laugh, nodding alongside it. ‘Beats brunch though, right?’

‘Fuck brunch,’ Marcus quips.

It barks through his screen, passionate enough to make Luca laugh for real that time, a smile tugging on his lips.

‘Who the fuck invented giving up two meals for one?’

‘Dunno,’ Luca humours, ‘the French?’

‘Probably the French, yeah.’

He’s walking now, buildings passing by from the upwards angle Luca has access to. It’s raining, misting Marcus’s camera, and pearling on the knit of his hat. He walks a few more steps without saying anything else, head shaking like he’s still thinking about brunch.

‘Did you listen to my voice note?’ Luca asks, switching the rain-dropped Marcus into his other hand, and covering his chest in the opposite way.

‘Shit, yeah,’ his eyes flick down to the phone, into the camera, ‘was gonna ask. What’s up? You wanted to talk about something?’

‘Yeah, I did.’ And suddenly it’s back down his throat, fleeing and cloying to the sides. Unwilling to come to life. ‘I know you’ve been having a tough time of it.’

Marcus sighs, or scoffs, or whatever sort of frustrated, dissatisfaction sits in-between the two. ‘I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear on you.’

‘No, no, that’s not it,’ Luca corrects keenly. ‘I get it, it’s completely understandable, mate. But I’ve been thinking—well, wracking my brain, really, over what I could do to help out.’ Drag it back, claw it out. ‘And I settled on coming to Chicago,’ he says. ‘I think.’

‘What?’

‘I was thinking I could come to Chicago.’ It’s easier the second time. Goes out of him like it isn’t an utterly absurd, completely over-stepping, gesture. ‘I've got some holidays to use up, y’know, been saving them for something important.’

Marcus frowns slightly, staring ahead like Luca’s there and not sitting under his chin. ‘Shouldn’t you be using it to, I don’t know, see your family or something? Go back home?’

He could do that in a weekend. Could go for a day, once a week, if it really compelled him. ‘I mean, Mum’s in Copenhagen so often she may as well buy a flat here, and Frankie. Well, yeah, you know.’

‘Would sooner close the borders than have you back,’ he says, with half a smile printed in his cheek.

‘Mhm. So. My remaining two weeks are yours, if you want them.’

The lump’s back in his throat again, this time paired with a creeping heat in the shell of his ears. Marcus says nothing, head tilting like he’s physically weighing up the idea, a set of scales balanced between his eyes. Luca’s offer slow-rolling between the two.

It feels like three minutes pass in wait of it. Four now. The room’s silent minus the tinny echo of downtown Chicago, cracking through the line. He pulls his knees up, bent, to balance his arm and the phone on top of them.

‘You really wanna stay here?’ Marcus asks eventually.

He shrugs, watching himself do it in the corner of his screen. Easier to look there than— ‘I can get a hotel,’ he suggests.

‘No, I mean,’ he looks down at Luca, ‘you really wanna waste your vacation days on me?’

‘Yeah,’ he replies, thick with sarcasm, ‘call it self-flagellation.’

‘Self-what?’ Marcus laughs. ‘Come on, none of your cryptic shit when I’m being serious, please.’

‘Sorry.’ He smiles. ‘Bad joke. But it wouldn’t be a waste, Marcus.’

And he knows better than to think of it like that, because he knows Luca, right? Even if it’s only in that surface level, co-worker sense—which it isn’t, it can’t be—because he knows Luca isn’t one for waste. Ever. Not when he’s paying attention, that is.

‘Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to,’ he adds, once the silence starts to itch again.

Marcus sighs. ‘I don’t know, man. I mean, that’s, it’s fucking crazy that you would do that for me—’

‘Steady on, it’s not just for you.’ He laughs, voice full of fake offence. ‘I like holidays too, y’know?’

A tsk scuffs through the phone. ‘No you don’t, man.’

‘Alright,’ he knows him, ‘but I am long overdue.’ Outside of the kitchen, he knows him. ‘Been promising Carm for years,’ he says. Heat along the top of his ears, skin reddening down his neck, hidden by the orange of the bedside. ‘I’m sure he’d be glad to see me.’

‘Yeah,’ Marcus nods, ‘would be glad to have you in the Beef, too.’

‘Well, I didn’t say anything about working.’

‘Come on, like you’d be able to help yourself.’

‘I might.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

The silence steps back in; uninvited, between the laughs, over the unfinished hypotheticals. He watches Marcus duck under a low portion of scaffolding, then nod in a no problem way, as he pauses to let someone past. A whole world in his palm, a snapshot of a day he’s already lived through.

‘What’s your hesitation?’ he asks, quiet in a way that’s only appropriate for Copenhagen. For his bedroom in the dark, after the turn of midnight. ‘About me coming?’

Marcus shrugs, he assumes, only able to see the upside-down crescent that his mouth forms with it. ‘Guess I was kind of hoping to get out of here myself.’

‘We can do that,’ Luca answers, far too quick. Sharp enough to invite another silence in, hand on the door, fingers catching the edge of it. ‘You should, I mean. It’d be good for you.’

If Marcus notices the fumble, he chooses to ignore it. ‘Thing is, I can’t imagine myself leaving right now. Y’know, going far from home, incase I…’ He laughs without the spirit of it. ‘Man, fuck, I don’t really have a reason, do I?’

Luca shakes his head. It makes sense. He’s seen it before. ‘I get it,’ he says.

‘Really? Cause I’m feeling like all my logic is mad crazy right now. Keep doing shit and I don’t even know why.’

‘It’s normal.’

‘Is it?’

‘Were you wanting me to disagree?’

He holds his frown just long enough to make Marcus crack, teeth flashing as he smiles. ‘Okay, yes, I wanted you to tell me I’m not crazy.’

‘You’re not crazy,’ Luca obliges.

‘Thank-you.’

A nod. It’s nothing. ‘So where do people from Chicago go, when they don’t want to leave Chicago?’ he asks, lying back onto the pillows at last. He’s been slouching deeper and deeper as the call goes on, and it’s starting to bite. Numb-ache tugging between his shoulder blades. He needs his spine flat, stretched out. He hovers phone-Marcus over his face while his arm can tolerate it still.

‘I have no idea,’ Marcus answers, back to looking ahead of him. Into the road Luca has no view of. ‘Fucking…Costco?’

Luca snorts. Then he lifts his eyebrows, head tilting, like it’s a plausible option, something worth considering. Costco hotdogs and a Coke. He’d take it, if the offer was there.

‘Yeah, y’know, Costco might fix me,’ Marcus continues, laughing in between. ‘I will definitely do that.’

The smirk toys in the corner of Luca’s lips again. ‘I’m glad we could sort something, mate.’

‘Plus, it saves you buying a plane ticket.’

‘Yeah.’ He swallows, back to watching himself in the corner of the screen. A square of gold over the blue of Marcus’s jumper. Tired eyes watching tired eyes, slow blinks in-between. ‘I should probably head off,’ he says. ‘Getting late.’

‘Shit,’ he glances down, ‘I’m always messing with your sleep, dude. My bad.’

‘Yeah-no, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you called.’ His arm’s aching, and the phone drops slightly as he tries to maintain it. ‘It’s good to speak to you.’

Marcus is indoors now, having just stepped from the grey sky into the bright, man-made lighting of the Beef. ‘Hit me up tomorrow?’ he asks, with a quickness that gives Luca no time to do anything but nod in reply. ‘Sweet.’

‘Have a good day, man.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He corrects himself. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’

The call ends, Marcus’s image replaced by the blinding white of their text conversation, that thumbs up emoji staring back at him again.

There’s no relief now that his idea’s been voiced, because he’d barely even argued the case. Marcus didn’t want to travel, it was right there, even after his hesitation, the stone through the stream. Then I’ll come to you, he should’ve said, it makes the most sense. And I’ll muck about whenever you need a break from me, do all the touristy shit, you know? Visit the Bean.

He sighs and lays the phone flat on his bare chest, screen going dark after a few passing breaths.

Marcus was right, it was crazy of him to even offer to do that. Like throwing slate into a lake and expecting it to float. Another angle then, another gift in the post, maybe, one that neither of them can talk out of existence.

Or maybe nothing at all.

He switches the light off, night blanketing him. Tomorrow. He can think about it tomorrow.

#marcus x luca #luca x marcus #the bear fanfiction #marcus the bear #luca the bear

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mondscheinprinzessin · 5 months

Text

Soulmate shorts pt. 2

Written for @another-sun christmas event <3

another short Aleksi/Joel/Joonas soulmate installment for the long waiting time you guys have to endure

the timeline doesn't matter here at all btw

Sprinkling in a little hurt/comfort because of course, it's me, and I hope you enjoy😊

It only needed one look towards Joel for Joonas to know something was up. They hadn’t seen each other for most of the day after Joel and Niko had gone off to the radio station for another interview and the rest of the band was left alone in the studio under Aleksi’s supervision.

But the first step Joel took into the studio made it clear he wasn’t alright, and it wasn’t only Joonas who noticed; Aleksi shot him a worried look, well adjusted to every sign by now that one of them needed a little more support.

Now wasn’t the right time though to do an intervention and they settled with keeping an eye on their partner for now.

And it wasn’t a coincidence that today they finished earlier, producing a small lie to the others, so they could head home a little earlier than usual. It wasn’t easy anyways to concentrate while aware their soulmate was struggling. Joonas could swear his soulmark was itching but did his best not to act upon it, not wanting to further worry Joel in return.

Instead they drove home, Joonas and Aleksi kept on their toes since they knew a direct approach has never worked with Joel. It felt more offensive for Joel to discover that his mood was troubling his partners, so much so that he would rather keep shut and pretend a little longer he was fine.

Joonas didn’t want to think about how similar Aleksi and Joel were in that matter. Different story, same ending. And it hurt none the less when Joonas experienced it second-hand.

But to their surprise Joel didn’t mind showing off his gloominess in fullness. Not even in the dramatic way that liked to come forward when it wasn’t much of a concern, and he was more annoyed than truly upset.

No, as soon as they entered their flat Joel strode towards the couch and lay down, a pillow under his head, and his long hair didn’t even attempt to hide his glistening eyes.

The picture did its best to break Joonas’ heart, and he and Aleksi quickly discarded their stuff so they could join. While Aleksi took a seat at the end of the couch, picking up Joel’s feet to put them on his lap, and running a soothing hand over his legs, Joonas cautiously sat down at Joel’s head.

Another hand ran a comforting path along Joel’s body, loosening knots in his hair, and warming the skin on his neck. His face was already hot and red and Joonas could hear the sniffles that Joel couldn’t suppress.

“’m sorry.”

“What should you be sorry for?” Aleksi asked first.

“Everything?”

So Joel didn’t even know if he had done anything wrong with them, apologizing first and gauging their reaction to see if any criticism was following.

“There’s nothing coming to my mind.” Joonas calmed him down. “We just want to know what’s up.”

Joel swallowed, obviously fighting with himself. But they gave him the time.

“I fucked up after the interview.” He finally said. “The guy was rude and I couldn’t help myself. What if we will never be invited by them again? I fucked up this chance for us and now we never get to play our songs there and no one will hear us.”

Evidently they were already deep in the spiralling phase, producing disaster scenario after disaster scenario, not being able to see the truth right in front of his face.

Joonas, the ever-logical mind among them said, “I’m sure that if you had been really disrespectful, they would have given management a call already, but we didn’t hear from them all day, so I’m sure it’s fine. They will air the interview, and they’re not the only two people deciding about the music on their channel. Regardless there’s more than one radio station out there. Don’t forget you’re visiting Rock Antenne next month!” He tried to cheer him up.

To his satisfaction he could hear Joel chuckle and giving a little acknowledgment in return.

“I will never be like Niko though.” The negativity outwon in his mind. “He always keeps so calm and professional.”

“Good.” Aleksi answered. “Because we don’t need another Niko. What do we need two rappers for?” He tried to break up the mood and smiled audibly.

“Exactly.” Joonas joined. “We love you because you’re you in case you haven’t noticed yet.” Joonas flicked a finger against Joel’s nose to get him out of his head. “If Niko was so special, he would have our soulmark, but he doesn’t, because you belong to us, and we love you, and you’re great. Yes, you can fuck up at times, but all of us do. You don’t need to be like somebody else.”

It took a little time for Joel to absorb all that and to answer.

“Yeah sorry.”

It wasn’t the answer Joonas had hoped for, it sounded more like surrendering to their approval than truly understanding what they had wanted to convey. Maybe they didn’t choose the right words. Especially the part about Joel being special.

It was clear that he had just wanted to fit in ever since he was circled out his whole life by school mates and coworkers and family that didn’t really understand at first. It wasn’t always comfortable being ‘unique’, and sometimes all you wanted was to be normal, to be like someone else, be under security of someone else’s personality and not show your own.

Joonas understood better than he would have liked, all of them did, but it nevertheless hurt that it was still such a big part in their lives.

“We love you Joel.” He repeated therefore and turned Joel’s face so he could lean down and drop a kiss to the tip of his nose.

The problem wouldn’t resolve itself today no matter what they said or did, it took time for Joel to embrace the kindness back, just like his tears needed to dry and a smile would build itself slowly up.

But they could cuddle on the couch, all three of them, watch a movie and wait till Joel has relaxed enough that they could go to bed. Maybe Joonas would start a tickle fight with Aleksi to distract Joel, that would end in a wrestling match and one of them falling down on the carpet, but it was what they needed, and Joonas would do everything for his soulmates.

Aleksi stilled in his movement when Joel suddenly appeared before him, blocking the bedroom door.

“We need to do something about Joonas, you in?”

It has been 5 minutes since Aleksi had stood up after a night with pleasant dreams, so excuse him if he was a little slow, but Joel’s sentence didn’t make any sense.

“You want to do what?”

Joel took away his arm from the door frame that had been obstructing Aleksi’s view to the hallway and the bathroom that called for a nice shower. But it was also a bit hot to see Joel looming over him, he couldn’t lie. Okay get back on track brain.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been noticing how off Joonas’ has been lately? He needs to relax and we’re going to help him.”

Oh. Yes, this Aleksi indeed has noticed. But it wasn’t surprising for Joonas to be tense and stiff with his current workload. And in addition to that Aleksi had to admit that he and Joel didn’t have a great time lately either, and Joonas had always been there to comfort them, giving everything and apparently forgetting about himself.

Aleksi sighed. Yes, they needed to do something for him. “Alright, you’ve got something in mind already?”

Looking at Joel’s face he most likely had, and with the head start Joel had by being awake earlier he certainly had enough time to think about it.

“I’m going grocery shopping so you can cook something nice. Go take a shower my star.” Joel replied and gave him a kiss finally.

As soon as he had appeared as quickly did he vanish out of the door and Aleksi could only shake his head as he fetched his things for the bathroom. When Joel had set his mind on something he could be incredibly determined.

The jingle of keys indicated Joonas’ return, and Aleksi swirled in the sauce to make sure it’s ready. He had timed his cooking perfectly and the table was already set for three, just waiting for them to sit down and eat.

In the hallway he could hear Joel welcoming their boyfriend and soon he felt a pair of arms snaking around his middle and a kiss to his neck. He smiled happily down into the pot, the feeling of one of them pressed to his back, warm and comforting, never getting old and never something he could get used to, always making his heart speed up.

“Smells delicious baby.”

Oh what a compliment could do to Aleksi, he thought as he joyfully served everyone a plate.

Sitting opposite of Joonas gave him the perfect view to observe him and it was effortless to him to see behind his smile. The contentment was real, but the hard lines around his mouth and eyes didn’t vanish with a good meal. It has been too long that Joonas was letting himself torn apart to all sides, and another full day at the studio with Olli did its rest.

Making a good face was something they all learned to do, and especially in their line of work it had to be done, keeping up the face for the press and fans even when they were utterly exhausted. But here, around his loved ones, Joonas didn’t need to pretend.

After they were done eating it was time for round 2 of their plan and after Joel had disappeared for a minute and Aleksi had done his best to convince Joonas they could leave the dishes for a while, they only needed to get Joonas to the bathroom.

“Out of your clothes.” Joel demanded rather excited for that their goal was to help Joonas relax.

Joonas looked at him surprised. “Uhm, I’m sorry Joel, but not today. I’m tired.”

“No, no, no sexy time today, promised, but get out of your clothes.” Joel replied but before Joonas could even lift a finger he was already being shoved towards their bathroom.

Aleksi followed and laughed silently to himself as he watched Joel undress him while Joonas was still busy taking everything in.

Food wasn’t the only thing Joel had bought, a few candles had found their way into the shopping cart and were now lightning up the room to dim the harsh light from the lamp. It made for a seriously calming atmosphere, and the sweet and flowery smell from the bath foam only added to it.

The bathtub was almost full of water and Aleksi quickly turned off the tap before an accident could occur. Testing the temperature, he deemed it safe to enter the water and got rid of his pants and long shirt at least.

Meanwhile Joel and Joonas had gotten naked and while it was certainly a nice picture to see them so close together with their bodies on full display it also warmed his heart to see Joel so careful and attentive to Joonas.

Before anyone of them could get cold Joel helped Joonas get into the bathtub and Aleksi positioned himself outside at the head. There wasn’t enough room for all three of them anyways (nothing they could fix as easily as making more space on the couch and bed) and he had another job to do.

Carefully guiding Joonas’ head back, giving a loving smile before making him close his eyes, Aleksi put both of his hands to his head. He started out with his thumbs at the temple, rubbing the skin there in circles, then travelled to his forehead to card his fingers through his hair.

While he was tending to his curls and the scalp, eliciting the one and other mellow moan of satisfaction, Joel was running his hands over the rest of Joonas’ body.

Although at times it seemed like he was just trying to push the foam around to get a better look at his body.

“I love you both.” Joonas said after some time, his voice quiet and soft.

For Aleksi it turned out to be quite difficult to answer to this at times, and his eyes would cast downwards, feelings too many that they would definitely spill out of him incomprehensibly and with too much force. But while his mouth struggled to find the right words (he only needed three and they were right there but so hard to form around his tongue), his hands were extra careful to caress Joonas’ face.

And Joel was right there to reassure Joonas that they were feeling the same, leaning forwards to capture his wrist and kissing his way around the little soulmark, a shiver noticeable on Joonas’ body. Aleksi could almost feel Joel’s caress on himself, and although he was lacking the symbols that united them, their love for each other was strong enough that in this moment he didn’t need them for assurance. Joel’s loving gaze he got when he broke away from Joonas was all he needed to know.

#blind channel #my fics #will be posted on ao3 in the future when I have time #this came with a little delay because I was completely exhausted this and last week #thank you Gemma for giving me more time #I thought after giving Aleksi all the attention that Joel and Joonas deserve a little care themselves #and I had the scene with Joonas for the longest time because poor man has to struggle with his two traumatised boyfriends #and he deserves some relaxation

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dancingisdangerouss · 9 months

Note

I know Black Acres is discontinued, but if you’re comfortable answering, I would love to know how you pictured it ending? Did reader finally escape for good? Or did Al get his fucked up little fairy tale ending?

Hmm hmmm well, I’d optimistically like to say I’ll eventually finish it, but I don’t see myself getting that drive back, so I’ll go ahead and share!

I was a bit torn and kind of toying around with both ideas. Ultimately, I like the idea of the victim never giving in. Where Stockholm syndrome will be more of a theme in NCM, in ITB, there’s a strong theme about willpower and determination. But I also didn’t want to do the stereotypical happy ending (even if Y/N deserves one!).

I had planned to more than likely end it with it implying that Y/N never escapes Al, but also never fully gives in. So it’s kind of a sad ending for both of them, actually, because Y/N never gets to get away from him and live her life, but Al never gets the satisfaction of breaking her, and spends the rest of their time together having to stay on his toes, because if she gets a chance to leave, she’s taking it.

I also thought about doing something where Al manipulated her into pretending to be someone else and living life with him as a married couple, to allow her to go out in public with him, just never unsupervised (he likely would threaten to kill some innocent people if she tells the truth to anyone while they’re out and about). So that she has more activity outside the home, but is still tied to him.

In the end I think I’d have disappointed all the readers, both those who wanted Al to win or Y/N to escape. Because he never “wins,” he just gets to keep her. And she doesn’t escape, but she’s never his.

I had also considered writing some alternate endings, so I could explore what could have happened otherwise, and thought about doing some mini side stories with the other characters (Lori, April, Max).

But yeah, that’s the gist of it! I figure y’all deserve to at least know the ending I had planned. I just don’t think there are enough stories where the Reader doesn’t eventually fall for the villain, and never gives in. I think she eventually gets some soft spots for Al and is able to tolerate him more, but at the end of the day, he ruined her life twice and brutally murdered the actual love of her life in front of her. That’s realistically not something that could be forgiven (especially since Al never owns up to it/has any sincere remorse), so I don’t think she would ever come around to loving him.

#penny for your thots #asks #anon #into the black #the black phone #the grabber #the grabber x reader #black phone #grabber #ending #black acres #fanfic

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theladycarpathia · 1 year

Text

Celebration

Prompt: Steve Harrington’s childhood tree-house

Billy begins to laugh as he sees where they’re headed.

“Seriously, Harrington?” he asks, somewhat gleefully, tipping his head back to stare upwards into the trees. “This is where we’re going?”

Steve heaves the basket up and tries not to slip on the damp grass in the dark. It’s fucking heavy and as the birthday boy, Billy’s carrying nothing but lube and an open can of beer. Steve’s lucky that they managed to skirt around the pool without falling in head first. Or Billy pushing him in.

“I know it’s not exactly where you thought for your eighteenth,” Steve says hesitantly, because it’s not what Steve had fucking planned either. But his parents were home, and even though they’re out for dinner right now, it would be just Steve’s luck to be balls deep just as they arrive through the front door.

So plan B - Steve’s old tree-house, with a picnic basket, a thick blanket, and some lights. He’s going to give his boyfriend some romance on his fucking birthday if it’s the last thing he does.

“But with my folks home, I had to find another option. And the quarry isn’t that special and I know we can't really go out given…” Steve trails off, not wanting to even mention Neil’s name on Billy’s day. But Billy just grins, an eerie flash of white in the bright moonlight.

“It’s cool, Harrington,” he drawls and Robin asked once if it was weird that Billy often calls him that. But it’s not. It’s just Billy and something about the way that Billy says it, all low and hungry, makes Steve’s stomach dip every time.

He didn’t tell her that he prefers it this way. It makes the lines easier for when they have to pretend that they don’t mean what they are to each other. That Billy only uses his name in quiet, dark spaces, pressed into Steve’s bare skin. When Steve’s name is less like a tease and more like a prayer.

“Just wondering how you can call this a tree-house,” Billy continues and Steve flushes.

“You think my old man was going to let me have some shitty thing put together in a weekend?” he asks, even though that’s what he thought he’d get when he was a kid. Something that they’d put together and maybe Steve’s dad would have to spend time together with him for once.

But no. Men came and built something more akin to a wooden fortress up in the oak right at the back of the Harrington’s yard. Steve’s dad didn’t even look at it when it was done.

Steve is going to fuck Billy in that tree-house and it brings him more than a little satisfaction.

“Your dad is a dick,” Billy comments, before he bounds the last few feet to the base of the tree and the faintly swinging rope ladder. Steve nudges him out of the way before he can begin to climb.

“I know it’s your birthday but can I go first?” he says, getting a good grip on the basket. Thank God he put the blanket and shit up there earlier because slipping and breaking something is not the cool move he’s trying to make.

Billy dramatically bows and takes a step back.

Billy has no fucking patience because he’s right behind Steve up the ladder. Steve only just has time to drop the basket down and flick on the Christmas lights he’d strung up earlier. He’s just beginning to light the assorted candles with the lighter when Billy’s head appears through the hatch.

It’s worth it to see the look on his face.

“Okay, I take it back,” Billy says, staring around. Because it’s a fucking Harrington effort, it’s suitably furnished as well - beanbags that are a little musty, a table in the corner, a small shelf of Steve’s old games. Billy picks up one of the toy cars on the table and flicks it’s wheels. “This is cool.”

Steve grins, setting down the candle. There’s a suitably atmospheric glow now, the flickering warmth of the candles, the twinkles of the old Christmas lights. There’s the big red picnic blanket that Steve stole out of the attic and it must have been one of his mom’s random purchases, because they’ve never been for a picnic. He padded it out with a few strewn cushions, and a blanket from his room. It’s too cold to stay here all night but Steve doesn’t want cold air on his bare ass after.

Steve pulls up the ladder - his parents barely come into the garden but better safe than sorry - and closes the hatch. They’re locked away in their own private world for a few hours.

Billy drops down onto the blanket and there’s something strange about his expression. They’ve only been dating six months but Steve knows that look. So he just opens up the basket and begins pulling out the food: tiny sausages, potato salad, fancy cheeses…you know. Stuff that won’t matter so much if they get distracted halfway through. Billy’s predictable. They never usually make it the whole evening before they fool around.

Steve digs out the two plastic glasses and the bottle of champagne with a flourish. His parents probably won’t notice it missing from their cabinet. If they haven’t yet noticed the vodka that he replaced with water, they sure as hell won’t notice this.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Billy says quietly, as Steve carefully tugs at the cork. Steve winces as the sound echoes through the night and he licks the foam from his hand before he begins to pour.

“You only turn eighteen once,” he says, because he knows how hard this is for Billy. It’s not like anyone really makes an effort in the Hargrove house, although Max tries. But she’s only thirteen and her birthday contribution was a cupcake and a mix-tape.

Steve doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough anyway. It’s pilfered champagne and a set of new candles, borrowed rugs and lights, an impromptu picnic in the middle of March. Honestly, the only bit where Steve feels like he’s really contributing is later, when he can carefully take Billy apart piece by piece.

He hands Billy a glass and holds his own up. “Happy birthday,” he says, gently clicking their glasses together. He desperately wants to say more but he keeps it in for now. Billy’s always better at taking compliments in the afterglow.

Billy offers him a wavering smile before tipping the glass back.

“Shit,” Billy mutters, staring at the half empty glass like he’s had some sort of religious experience. Steve hides his smile.

They eat, while Steve frequently tops up the champagne. Billy is gorgeous in the dim light and it makes it hard to focus when Billy licks mayonnaise off his bottom lip. When he sucks on a carrot stick is the moment that Steve knows that he’s doing it on purpose.

“Okay, do you want to have sex now?” Steve sighs, unable to ignore the heat in his belly or the way that Billy’s eyes carefully flick up every so often to make sure that Steve has noticed.

Billy grins, all teeth and impatience, and shoves the paper plate aside.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says lasciviously and tugs off his shirt. He doesn’t even wait for Steve to take his sweater off before he’s kissing him, pressing Steve down into the rug.

Steve lets him, willingly pinned under Billy’s body while they kiss. He can feel the hard line in Billy’s jeans already and he wonders what has Billy so keyed up. It can’t be down to frustration - they saw each other only yesterday, parking the Camaro up by the quarry, their go to space when Steve’s house isn’t safe. Steve had shucked his jeans and climbed into the backseat, letting Billy sit over him. Actually fucking in the backseat isn’t that comfortable so Steve had brought lube, dribbled it over his hand and their dicks, sliding them both together, while Billy held onto Steve’s shoulders with his eyes closed. It had been perfect, watching every flutter of his eyelashes, the desperate little pants from his parted lips. Billy was so gorgeous and Steve had dragged it out, every slow flick of his wrist, his free hand digging half-moon imprints into Billy’s hip. They don’t often do this and the novel experience of just rubbing against each other made everything seem heightened and hazy.

The memory of Billy’s groan as he came over Steve’s fingers is enough to have Steve flip Billy over. He bends over to kiss the annoyed look from Billy’s face, his hands quickly working the buttons on Billy’s jeans.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve reminds him, tugging down the denim and Billy’s boxers in one easy motion. Billy looks a little stunned to be lying there in his socks, before a pleased grin comes across his face and he hurries to strip those too.

When he’s lounging back, fully naked on the blanket, one arm tucked under his head, Steve sits back on his heels to admire him. His angular wrists. The firm planes of his stomach. Dick flushed a pretty red against miles of beautiful golden skin.

Billy makes him feel breathless every single time.

And Billy knows it too, because he smirks and widens the spread of his legs. An open invitation.

“Like you said, it’s my birthday,” Billy says smugly. “Hop to it, babe.”

But Steve doesn’t. Not this time. He traces the lines of Billy’s hips and stomach muscles with his tongue. He presses his mouth to the flesh of Billy’s thigh. He runs his hands across every bit of skin he can reach while he swallows down around Billy’s dick. He wants Billy to be overwhelmed and rapturous and loved.

When he reaches the lube, Billy is already flushed and on the verge of begging. Steve slicks up his fingers, nothing with amusement that he’s still half dressed. He slides in his fingers slowly, pushing Billy to the absolute limit as he fucks him. Billy scrabbles for purchase on the rug, his back arching as Steve hits just the right angle.

“Baby, please,” Billy whispers, sound completely fucked out. Steve’s been very careful to make sure that Billy doesn’t get too close to coming- no sense in the fun being over too early.

Steve stills his hand, leaving his fingers buried inside while he stares at Billy. The tension is razor tight, confusion and lust flickering over Billy’s face. Steve gets it - he’s never been like this before. This devoted, this intense, this kind of focus purely on Billy. He’s barely even noticed the strain against his own jeans which is probably a good thing.

Steve carefully removes his fingers, his dick twitching at the desperate little whimper that Billy makes as he does so. He removes his clothes slowly, making sure that Billy watches every step as he shrugs off his t-shirt, his jeans, and hooking his fingers into his underwear. The feel of his lube-slick hand around his dick nearly does him in and it’s only the look in Billy’s eyes - and the promise that something more pleasurable is on offer - that keeps him going.

Neither of them make a sound when Steve slides in - it’s almost too intense for that. Billy winds his arms around Steve’s back and Steve captures his open mouth for a kiss. He doesn’t move, not just yet. He would freeze time like this, if he could. It’s so completely perfect that Steve feels like he’s being crushed with the weight of it. The pressure, the expectations, are always there and the thought that at some point he’s going to fuck it up is like a constant specter at his back. That he’s going to say something stupid or insensitive, or Billy will need support in a way that he doesn’t know how to give and Steve will lose the best thing he has.

And the worst future is one where Billy just…leaves. Steve knows that he’s bound to Hawkins in a way that Billy just isn’t. That Steve won’t be reason enough to stay.

Billy’s eyelashes flutter every time Steve thrusts in, his mouth open in a helpless pant. Steve hates that Billy’s quiet in bed, too many years of having to train himself to keep silent. Every little moan or broken sound of Steve’s name feels like a triumph and Steve longs for the day where Billy can scream all he wants.

Normally Billy’s a greedy fuck, rocking back against Steve like a demanding brat, but today he lets Steve set the pace. And Steve does, deep and slow, determined to drag out every last second. He wants to keep this feeling going, the taste of Billy’s mouth, the pull of Billy’s body around him, the drag of Billy’s leaking dick against his belly.

But the end is inevitable and when Billy finally sighs his name into his skin, Steve is helpless against following him.

They lie on the rug, sweat and come cooling on their skin until they start to shiver. Steve reaches past Billy’s head for the blanket he had prepared and tugs it over them. Billy’s eyes are closed, breathing slowly and Steve curls up against him. He wonders if Billy’s falling asleep until an arm winds around his back to tug him even closer.

“Thanks,” Billy murmurs sleepily against his hair. Steve presses a kiss to Billy’s salty cheek. It’s not like it was hard. As far as he’s concerned, Billy deserves the world.

“Happy birthday,” Steve says, because he’s not quite ready for the words yet, no matter how much he feels them. Billy’s not ready for them yet either, despite his warm eyes, the gentle stroking against Steve’s hip.

But when Billy shifts in Steve’s arms to pull the cupcakes out of the basket, gleefully shoving half of one straight into his mouth, Steve feels like maybe this will be the first birthday of many that they spend together.

#harringrove #harringroveweek #billy's birthday bonanza #it's billy's birthday!#ending on a happy one #steve harrington #billy hargrove #I need to add these to ao3

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greypetrel · 2 months

Text

Dance the Marigold

@ndostairlyrium asked for this prompt for either Alyra or Aisling. And as the wise man said…

I challenge you, reader. If you read this, and you’re willing: - Design the ugly outfit Alyra would bully your Inquisitor/Hawke/Warden/OC into wearing. - Design Alistair’s prized outfit, Aisling’s shoes or Nathaniel’s hat. And of course, tag me when you do!

33. Orlesian shoes with jeweled buckles – Alyra/Aisling

“… What are those?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Aisling groaned, wobblying on her feet on a pair of overly tacky high-heeled shoes that just demanded attention. They would have demanded it even if they weren’t so different in style they were from the tartan skirt she wore and the simple white sweater above.

The shoes were covered in yellow silk that was damasqued in silver, had a high heel painted in bright red with golden swirls all over the exterior, and on the square point laid a horrible big buckle in silver with too many pearls and gems of too many colours mounted all around.

Beside the fact that she was so out of shape with them -it’s been more than two years since Josephine had last had a chance to force her in wearing high heels, after all- that she looked exactly like Bran that time he tried to walk on the frozen lake, extremely ungracious and unsure of her footing, they were so evidently out of her taste that Cullen couldn’t but think that something had happened.

He knew his wife, and he knew she would have declared high heels illegal if she had had enough power to do so and not having to wear a pair anymore. He was there when she had leaned in, during an important party at Skyhold, smiling very rigidly and asked him for help because she slipped her feet out of the shoes while eating, accidentally kicked one of them away and couldn’t reach it anymore. And the hem of her skirt wasn’t long enough to cover up that she was barefoot. He was the one who suggested her to raise up as she was accepting the Duc’s invitation to dance and pretend to faint instead, and had to let her go as soon as they were safe behind the door leading to her tower because she started laughing as soon as they were out of the crowd and couldn’t stop thrashing around.

So no, her wearing high heels, and such a busy and tacky pair moreover, wasn’t anything normal. And now she was trying to make her way down the front stairs of Vigil’s Keep on them, trying desperately not to unbalance herself and fall.

Something definitely happened.

“Do you want some help?”

Aisling turned to glare at him.

“Just to make it down the stairs. I could carry you.” He offered, knowing full well that she actually liked being picked up. She actually liked it a little too much.

She frowned, this time, tho, pouting at him. Her cheeks took colour, but she didn’t yield.

“Absolutely not. What if he sees me? I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

Cullen rolled his eyes to the sky at the answer, knowing full well whom that “he” was, and trotted up to flank her, without actually touching her but still ready to catch her if she fell. She recovered in the last years after the Exalted Council, the worst was definitely over, but she never fully regained her balance. She learnt to walk around a missing arm and became proficient in a fight again, but on high heels and down a stairway? Better safe than sorry. Not to make her feel crowded and pitied -which he knew she hated- he went on speaking, taking the chance to sate his curiosity.

“Why are you wearing those…” He stopped, looking for a fitting term. He doubted she actually liked the contraptions, but in the case he was wrong, he didn’t want to offend. “… ah, those shoes?”

Aisling hissed, her cheek pinked again, as her pout grew.

“… They’re Leliana’s nameday gift. I have to break them in, since we have the same foot size.”

Cullen rose an eyebrow at her, snapping forward as she wobbled more, gasping aloud and flailing her arm to regain balance.

“I’m ok! I’m up!” She declared, before he could catch her. She regained her lost balance and very carefully descended the last steps sideways. “It’s but a kindness for a friend, poor Leliana is so busy being the Divine, she deserves shoes already broken in and more comfortable…” A pause. “… Since she somehow can find walking on stilts comfortable.”

He hummed in recognition, reading between the lines and offering her his arm, hooked at the elbow. Now that the stairs were gone, she looked up and smiled gratefully at him, placing her hand on the crook of his elbow. They moved forward, he knew she wanted to check on the horses and moved towards the stables, automatically, slowing down his pace. To accommodate her uncertain steps, and also to steal some more moments with his wife. Since they’ve been called to the Keep, they had both been so busy in different tasks that they saw each other little. More than in Skyhold, but after two years of living together, not having her around and seeking contact at every single given chance felt weird and felt bad, and he quite missed her.

But he also knew one thing, and waited after they passed the smithy -Herren and Wade were two gossipers, and he didn’t want this to be spread instantly in the Keep- before asking for confirmation of his suspects, a smile on his face.

“So, the Warden-Commander manipulated you in wearing shoes you hate.”

A pause.

“… She was very convincing…” Aisling admitted, embarrassment deep in her tone.

It made Cullen laugh and earned him a swat on his elbow and a pout.

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry!” He breathed, but still continued laughing. “It’s just funny seeing you so in awe.”

“I’m not in awe she just…” She wove her stump around, gesticulating. “… Has this way with words that makes everything she says seems the only logical solution. Beside, it was for a good cause.”

“A good cause?”

“She promised she would have rested, if I did. And…” She sighed. “Maybe she’ll hate me less, if I wear them.”

Cullen frowned at that, recognizing a hint of self-deprecation she only had after the Exalted Council. Or well, that she started voicing in such harsh terms after that. He knew she hated when he worried and fussed, so, he just told her he didn’t think Mahariel hated her, and squeezed her hand sympathetically. She smiled and hummed in recognition, and even if he knew she was all but convinced, she didn’t insist either. Which was a start.

They reached the stables, and he saw Aisling looking at the shoes. At the ground in the stables. And at the shoes again with a face like she just ate a pickle -she ate everything but pickles, he discovered.

“Can’t you take them off?”

“… I wish it was that simple.” She hissed. “Stupid shoes and stupid me, one would think that three years dealing with the damn Dowager would make me more clever…”

She started muttering, self-deprecation returning.

“Youare complaining? You?!”

A third voice, full of offence and wounded pride, suddenly called out, making the both of them turn. Peeking from the corner of the stables with an angry face and a shoulder that was bare over… Some pink floofy thing made in fabric and quilted with tiny orange bows, there was none other than Alistair, glaring daggers at Aisling. Naming, glaring more daggers at Aisling: their relationship started badly in Redcliffe, all those years ago, and they kept on bickering between them. Most of all, the King of Ferelden evidently liked to rile the former Inquisitor up, and found it fun, as Aisling inevitably got irritated and answered in tow. In the last days since he and Anora reached them, they hadn’t avoided bickering once when they were in the same room.

Right now, both former Inquisitor and Commander stood there, not understanding why the complaint.

It became clear when Alistair looked left and right very carefully, and only once he was very sure there wasn’t anyone around stepped forward, revealing himself.

In a poofy long dress in Orlesian female fashion, extra poofy with extra tulle around the skirt, bows in orange silk where probably bows shouldn’t be, the poofiest sleeves sprouting out of a off shoulder neckline, and corset covered in gold décor and swirls, sinching snugly his torso down to his hip.

They exchanged a look.

Cullen’s jaw fell open, recognizing the same handiwork behind the shoes and the dress, and not daring saying anything. That was, in spite of the appearance, his king after all.

Aisling, less prone to recognize authority just by name for a start, and very less prone to recognize his authority in particular, started to laugh, loud and hard.

Which made Alistair glare harder at her.

“Andraste’s holy knickers- Be more loud about it, would you, let the whole Keep know!”

“Why shouldn’t they know, you look so good in pink!”

“And you have chandeliers on your feet, so what.”

Aisling didn’t stop laughing, and squealed when the man started to chase her, with the obvious intent of shutting her mouth. She rushed behind Cullen’s back, and they would probably have used him as a pivot to run in circles, if Aisling was in a condition to run.

As it was, she took three steps and she was starkly remembered just how little she could walk on heels by tripping on her own feet and falling hard on the ground.

Face first.

“There, serves you right for laughing of me.” Alistair grumbled, crouching down to help Aisling out nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, but…” She snorted again, shuffling to get sitting on her butt. Looking up at the king, she bit her lower lip, in an evident attempt to stop laughing. “… all that tulle…”

“Yeah yeah I look like the work of a crazy confectioner high on elfroot. But I’ll tell you something.” He glowered at her, seriously, and rose one finger. “I’m not dancing the marigold.”

He sat down on his butt as well, still shuffling his hands -gloved in cream silk- to fan the wide skirt out around him in an halo of pink and white. Cullen approached his wife, still a little on pins and needles staying around nobles and figures he was taught all his life to respect. Figures he wouldn’t ever have imagined to witness dressed in a bombonniere of a dress. Which didn’t look half bad on him, beside the ridiculousness of the cut, the overflowing of details and the extra poofiness making him look like a fairy out of a children book.

“Are you fine?” He asked Aisling, crouching down himself.

“Yes, venhan, thank you. I’m all right and…” She stretched her legs forward, monstruosities of shoes twinkling in the spring sun, a little dirty but still in good condition, and twirled her ankles around. “… Yes, still in one piece.”

“These are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen.” Alistair commented. “And you walk like a drunk varghest.”

“Well at least I don’t look like a meringue.” A pause. The elf squinted at him. “A nasty meringue filled with liquorice.”

“At least I know how to move as a meringue.”

Cullen paled when Aisling gasped and swatted his arm. Swat whose effect was nulled by the poofiness of the sleeve, absorbing the hit fully. It made Alistair grin and Aisling pout, but at least it served to stop them from launch themselves in another round of bickering and trying to prove the other wrong. A small mercy Cullen was very grateful for. Before his wife could concoct another way to irritate the man, he decided to ask first, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his king the person he was speaking with, and his wife had been an important personality as well. His wife got a marriage proposal from the Grand Duke in Orlais, put the Empress on her throne and still wrote -and spoke- very regularly to two Magisters in Minrathous. It was easier, with Alistair, if he was wearing a whipped cream pie of a dress.

“Ah. The Warden-Commander has been very convincing with you too, your majesty?”

“Actually it was… Wait.” He looked at the buckled shoes. At Aisling. At the shoes again. “She forced you too?”

Aisling, the one addressed with the question, actually blushed, stretching her lips and looking down.

“She was very convincing.”

“Ok, what did you do? Now I’m curious.” He asked, more relaxed, and looked up at Cullen. “Is she this good at irritating aristocrats in general? Or it’s just with us?”

“I’m not-”

“In general. You should have seen her with both the De Chalons.”

“Hey. They were assholes-”

“Aaaaaw that’s conforting. Also explains why Alyra likes her so.”

“I’m not-“ Aisling stopped, transfixed, eyes turning big and mouth keeping open as she took the last sentence in. She blinked, once and twice, and it was Cullen’s turn to snort.

“Wait did you say- She likes me?” She asked, full of disbelief. She turned towards Cullen, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “Venhan, you heard him too?”

Cullen nodded, but Aisling turned back to the other man, squinting at him with suspicion.

“You’re not mocking me again, are you?”

“I swear I’m not.” Alistair laughed, at this, raising both his hands to show her his palms. “Did you really think she doesn’t like you?”

“She always glares at me.”

“She glares at everyone. She glares at me too and well. Point is: she would have never asked you of all people to be here if she didn’t like you.”

It made sense. It made a lot of sense, since the reason why they were there was delicate and personal, requiring the utmost secrecy. Aisling lowered her eyes, taking the news in. Her shoulder slumped some, as she stared transfixed at her yellow shoes. Circled the points around, making the heavy buckle catch light.

“But-”

“I’m in the ugliest dress ever. The shoes just mean she’s petty, and-”

“Who’s petty, exactly?”

They all turned around, to be met with the piercing stare of the Arlessa herself, one arm hooked with the one of a Morrigan who looked sincerely amused, in the way a cat that catches a mouse is, the other hand resting placidly on the big bump under her stays. She took colour on her skin since the cure and looked plumper in the late pregnancy, her face more rounded, but the piercing, judgng expression stayed the same.

“No one, love. Absolutely no one would have forced the King of Ferelden and the Inquisitor she hired as a healer to do a walk of shame around her own castle in two of the ugliest, more embarrassing pieces of clothing the world has ever seen.”

Alyra looked totally unimpressed.

“Have thou already danced the marigold?” Morrigan asked, smirking down at him. “Dost tell me I didn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re only envious because I look better than you in a corset.” Alistair scoffed, pointing his chin up in pride.

They started bickering, and Aisling, in the meanwhile, stared at the Arlessa, transfixed as before. She leaned towards Cullen, as the trio discussed between them of marigolds and darkspawn to show the dance too, and ways to get some undead bodies to force him to dance.

“Do you think that’s true?” She asked him, with a hint of vulnerability it took years to be so comfortable in showing.

“Only one way to know for sure, love.” Cullen smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on her lips for courage.

She smiled, still bashful at it after all these years, as she always was when he showed affection so openly. She mouthed a thank you, and turned around, looking at the other Dalish.

“You didn’t make me wear these shoes because you hate me, then?”

Everyone stopped to turn and look at her. Aisling rose up on her feet, brushing her skirt off with her hand and straightening her back to look at Alyra. She was still shorter than her, even with the added height.

Alyra, on her own, rolled her eyes to the sky, scoffing aloud as if the topic annoyed her greatly.

“I don’t know what made you think I do, if I called you here now of all time.” She scoffed, stepping forward to look at the other woman in the eyes. “You’re annoying. And whiny. The way you have of having no self esteem and at the same time being prideful to the point of stubbornness makes me crazy.”

She listed, matter-of-factly enough. Aisling stretched her lips and contracted her fist, closing on the wool of her skirt until the knuckles turned white. But she didn’t lower her eyes, not once, under the scrutiny.

“And you.” Alyra turned to Alistair, who smiled smugly at her. “You’re insufferable, and speak when you’re not supposed to and your sense of humour is getting worse by the year I swear.”

“I love you, too.”

Alyra groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t hate neither of you. Or none of you would be here in the knowing of the progeny.”

She patted her bump to state where the progeny still was, at least for the next two weeks. Then, she looked alternatively at the both of them, with the air of a mother who was scolding her children for the tenth time and was tired of repeating herself.

“That said, you are the midwife, your competence is appreciated and welcomed, but your contribution is not required much until the progeny decides to show up.” She nodded at Aisling first, and then at Alistair. “And you are the father, your contribution was necessary to the purpose, and welcomed, but right now is inconsequential.”

“May I remind you that-”

“You may not.” Alyra cut him off. “What I’m saying is: I didn’t prevent two darkspawn invasions to be told when I should or shouldn’t rest and sit down. If you still think your opinion is so necessary, you can give it to me and to all the Keep in ugly clothes.”

She glared at the both of them for good measure, a challenge on her face to speak back at her. No one dared saying a word, Aisling was frozen on the spot, Alistair smiling with more of a habit of such reactions, and knowing better than to answer from experience. After a full minute spent without blinking, she turned to Cullen, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Do you have anything to say too about my whereabouts and level of activity?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

Instinctively, he straightened his back, his right hand twitched and he had to remind himself that she wasn’t his superior, she wasn’t a Chantry mother, and saluting her would be overly silly. More than calling her ma’am, which made Alistair snicker. It pleased Alyra, who… didn’t smile, but nodded her head with a hint of approval.

“Someone at least turned their brain on today, good to know. Please talk to Nathaniel and tell him to do the same, you’ll recognise him by the hat.”

Alistair started to fully laugh, and quickly rose to his feet, a glint of amusement in his eyes that he totally lacked when he arrived, three days prior.

“I order you to wait, sir, this I have to see it.”

“He was in the great Hall talking with Varel.” Alyra informed him, casually, the ghost of a smile curling her lips.

“At the cost of having people see you in this dress?” Morrigan teased.

“I do look great in pink.” He shrugged, and came to offer his arm, gloves in silk under the poofiest sleeve ever, to the Arlessa, strutting just for show. “My Lady, if you would be so gracious as to do me the honour…”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and in spite of rolling her eyes to the sky and shaking her head, Alyra smiled, shifting to hook her arm in his.

“Your majesty, you look particularly dashing today, who dressed you?”

“I think it was Lady Velanna who chose the item, if my intuition doesn’t wrong me.”

Alyra rose an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t it have been me, pray tell me.”

“Darling.” He scoffed, starting to walk away. “She’s the one petty enough to buy something like that. You wouldn’t have touched this monstrousity if it was free, not even for pettiness, and insulted the designer for good measure.”

Alyra’s laughter echoed as the pair walked away, leaving the other three to stand, two dumbfounded and one amused. One amused who turned to the other two and smiled.

“Ma’am.” She pointed out, with the same tone of a cat who just was left unattended in a milk shop.

Cullen blushed and scoffed, trying -and failing- to give himself a tone.

“She was very convincing.” He grumbled.

“She really was.” Aisling nodded, before turning to Morrigan, defeat on her face. “Is she like this with everyone?”

Morrigan laughed, nodding towards the side and starting to walk. The pair followed, still arm in arm, with Aisling who didn’t even mention the option to take her shoes off.

“Only with the people she cares about. She doesn’t bother trying to teach a lesson to the rest.” The Witch explained.

“Did she ever make you wear or do something embarrassing?”

Morrigan turned, raising one eyebrow in scepticism as her all answer. A clear denial, even if her smile betrayed some affection.

“I know other ways to make her do something.”

She cryptically said. When prodded and asked about them, offered options and hypotheses, tho, she just chuckled mysteriously and refused to elaborate any further.

“You’ll see.” She just told them, and that was it.

---

Aisling did, indeed, see, three days later.

Three days later, when the Warden-Commander’s water broke as she was trying to show a pair of recruits how to effectively duck and counter a shield bash “without being idiots about it”.

She looked stunned as if the thing surprised her, and was very pissed off when now both Morrigan and Aisling intervened and dragged her back into the Keep.

Morrigan stopped Alyra’s every complaint that she should finish the training, that this would require hours and she at least could spend some finishing her job and she didn��t understand why everyone fussed over her like so, women give birth all the time it was no big deal.

The Witch, seraphical as if she was expecting the very same scene to occur, managed to put the Warden in a corner, had Aisling state that yes, the physical exertion and the too wide and sudden movement as she showed the recruit the move she intented him to make was what triggered the labour. Alyra looked at her with an expression of pure, utter betrayal that froze Aisling on the spot. Only then the woman seemed to notice one thing about the room. Everything was exactly in the place it was supposed to be: pots of water with glyphs ready to be activated to warm them up. Towels, a table with herbs and a mortar, all in pristine order and just ready to be used. As ready as Aisling was, calmly slipping an apron on and waving her fingers to tie the ribbon on her back.

“… This is all too ready. Were you expecting this to happen?” She didn’t ask: she inquired as if they were in her throne room and she was interrogating some of her vassals about something she was the last to know.

“Uh… Yes? Just in case… You are at 38 weeks, and you were moving a lot…” Aisling managed to spit out, almost apologetically.

Alyra squinted at her, but before she could say anything, Morrigan interrupted her and grabbed both her shoulders, pushing the woman down to sit on her bad and forcing her to look up at the Witch. Witch who had a scolding, out of patience expression on her face which reminded her all too much of Mythal in the Fade, all those years ago.

“You did it all by yourself. Now, will listen and you will do as your midwife says?”

Alyra squinted at her, betrayal on her face. But, she didn’t disagree.

“Say it.” She urged the other, a challenge in her tone.

“We told thee so.”

And indeed, those four words worked better than magic, and when Velanna reached them, she held no ugly clothes in her arms, and wasn’t asked to fetch some.

No one celebrated the birth of the crown prince dressed ridiculously.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #da fic #dao #dai #alistair x female mahariel #morrigan x female mahariel #cullavellan #writing petrel #alyra mahariel #aisling lavellan #tell me alistair wouldn't look good in a corset I won't believe you

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invisiblegarters · 1 year

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Kabe Koji Ending Thoughts

I wanted to give this one some time to marinate, and myself time to watch it again, because I have to confess the first time I was a little disappointed.

Yeah. I left episode 7 crying, aching inside for both Nekoyashiki and Issei and wondering how they would resolve Nekoyashiki’s glaring self-esteem problems, his self-loathing and his desperate need for acceptance and belonging, and thinking that twenty some minutes could never do the thing justice.

And in a way I was right. Nekoyashiki apparently only had to hear that he should draw what he loves to finally get it together, and voila! Everything slots into place.

At least that’s what I figured at first.

But then I really thought about it. Hasn’t he been hearing that from everyone, over and over and over, almost every episode? Yamada, Framboise, Issei...all of them have been saying it to him in one way or another the entire time. So no, after some marinating I don’t think that it was just Yamada saying it right then that did it. It was Nekoyashiki finally being in the right place to really hear it. it wasn’t a case of one and done - it was more a slow realization, the words sinking in and biding their time until Nekoyashiki was finally at a place where he was able to listen to them.

The time skip of a few months was another sneaky way to get past showing the inevitable work that he’d have to put in to truly resolving his issues, but honestly it’s a 24 minute show and I think we all deserve some damn cute after last ep so time skip away, I say.

There was a lot I loved about this ep. Framboise being his fabulous self, seeing the look of satisfaction on Nekoyashiki’s face and knowing that he’d done something he was proud of. The manga being about Issei and him, and how doing that was what finally made him calm and okay with whatever. It was lovely seeing him finally settled in his own skin. Tsubasa showing up to get the manga and bring it back to Issei (that mask did not one thing to really hide who he was - I know Yamada clocked him because my girl is smart). Issei crying as he reads it (and oh, that shot of Nekoyashiki holding the please recognize me sign and looking all shy, I liked that). Issei walking right back out of the closet that his well-meaning reporter friend put him back in after he was dragged out by the other one’s scoop. I really loved that. I loved him putting his money where his mouth is, so to speak, and choosing love - both in his personal and professional life. I loved the rest of Shiny Smile encouraging him.

I liked that it was Tsubasa who did the thing, too, because Issei helped him out when he was at his lowest. He can pretend he doesn’t care all he wants but that’s such a lie, and this proved it.

I also liked that the reporter did his own part to try to help. I love that Issei won two of the grumpiest people he knows over just by being kind and sunny and genuine with them.

I am sad that Framboise didn’t fulfill his dream of getting Nekoyashiki to the get together, but there is always next Comic King. He got a yes once, I fully believe that the man will be more tenacious than ever and get a second one, even if Nekoyashiki makes a bit of a fuss (he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t make a bit of a fuss anyway. That’s why we love him).

The scene between Issei and Nekoyashiki was very sweet and I loved it, aside from the spinny cam. Can we just not do the spinning please? My poor head can’t take it. I’m not even disappointed with no kiss, the handhold was adorable and Nekoyashiki’s whispered “I like you, too” felt almost like getting one after all. And I liked the implication that they’re living together in the end (and aw, the Issei stalker wall is back up. I swear Nekoyashiki found the one man in the world who isn’t fazed by that. What a keeper).

All in all I thought this was a gem of a show, and actually moved me more than some more “serious” dramas have in the past. 9/10, would recommend. I’m gonna miss this Monday treat.

#Kabe-Koji-Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to be Recognized #Kabe Sa Doujin Sakka no Neko Yashiki-kun wa Shouninyokkyuu wo Kojiraseteiru

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averrse · 1 year

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Part 2 of my SoC reread notes. Pages 46-165 of my edition.

(Note: I am sometimes lightly critical of Bardugo, and I have some Issues with Matthias, so fair warning! I keep it to a minimum, but sometimes these things come up.)

Inej could never be sure which stories about Kaz were true and which were rumors he’d planted to serve his own ends. For all she knew, he’d conned some poor honest trader out of his life savings to make the Crow Club thrive.

Breaks my heart a little bit that Inej thinks this, but I understand why, and I'm also sure Kaz would like that she can't be sure.

“Brick by brick,” he muttered to himself. They were the only words that kept his rage in check, that prevented him from striding through the Emerald’s garish gold-and-green doors, demanding a private audience with Rollins, and slitting his throat. Brick by brick. It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.

God bless Kaz thinking of the colors of the Emerald Club being "garish" even in the middle of his revenge fantasy. He's such a snob in his weird way. But it's also interesting to me that he believes killing Pekka outright would not "keep Jordie's ghost at bay." I think in reality, it's more that having his revenge quest gives him purpose and keeps him from having to actually face his grief.

Kaz could see himself as he was then, walking the Stave with dazzled eyes, hand tucked into Jordie’s so he wouldn’t be swept away by the crowd. He hated the boys they’d been, two stupid pigeons waiting to be plucked.

One thing I've always liked about Kaz's characterization is that he's internalized this hatred of who he and Jordie were. While he feels the need for revenge against Pekka for taking advantage of them, he also feels that they deserved to be taken advantage of because they were naive. He has clearly taken the role of Pekka many times, taking advantage of 'pigeons'... yet he also hates Pekka for doing it.

“I’ve seen Suli tellers ply their trade in caravans and pleasure ships, Inej. They didn’t seem so very holy.” “They are pretenders. Making themselves clowns for you and your ilk.” “My ilk?” Kaz had laughed. She’d waved her hand in disgust. “Shevrati,” she’d said. “Know-nothings. They’re laughing at you behind those masks.” “Not at me, Inej. I’d never lay down good coin to be told my future by anyone—fraud or holy man.” “Fate has plans for us all, Kaz.” “Was it fate that took you from your family and stuck you in a pleasure house in Ketterdam? Or was it just very bad luck?” “I’m not sure yet,” she’d said coldly. In moments like that, he thought she might hate him.

God, this whole conversation. Holy microaggressions, Kaz. Like, yeah, bud, I'm sure you understand Inej's culture better than she does.

But there are some interesting character things here. Inej is lumping Kaz in with... basically what Kaz would call pigeons (which I think is why he got really fucking cruel about her family).

Also, Kaz doing shit that will obviously upset Inej, then thinking she probably hates him--which he doesn't seem to want but he does seem to want but not really. Therapy.

The peepholes were a feature of all the brothels. They were a way to keep employees safe and honest, and they offered a thrill to anyone who enjoyed watching others take their pleasure. Kaz had seen enough slum dwellers seeking satisfaction in dark corners and alleys that the allure was lost on him.

Hey, look, it's one of those passages that make me REALLY uncomfortable with Kaz being 17 in the book and this being marketed as young adult and I'm just going to stay in denial about it.

But, yeah. If I ignore that aspect, it is sorta telling about how he views physical contact outside of just the touch aversion.

“It’s just a question of leverage, Nina.” “You don’t know him.” “Don’t I? He’s a person like any other, driven by greed and pride and pain. You should understand that better than anyone.”

Greed and pride and pain. God bless Kaz for not knowing how any person could function differently than he does.

“And Kaz Brekker?” [Nina] “A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.” [Inej]

I love how Inej talks about Kaz. It almost strikes me as her describing him as he'd want to be described.

“You were early, Jesper,” Kaz said as he nudged Matthias toward the boat. “I was on time.” “For you, that’s early. Next time you plan to impress me give me some warning.” “The animals are out, and I found you a boat. This is when a thank-you would be in order.” “Thank you, Jesper,” said Nina. “You’re very welcome, gorgeous. See, Kaz? That’s how the civilized folk do.”

Love Kaz being mad at Jesper for being on time. Love Kaz assuming him being on time is to impress him. Love Nina, like, in general.

Although on a more seriously note, I do wish Kaz would be nicer to Jesper. He's SO negative toward him all the time at this point in the book.

Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark—he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light. Matthias could sense it around him. [...] He’d heard Brekker’s name in prison, and the words associated with him—criminal prodigy, ruthless, amoral. They called him Dirtyhands because there was no sin he would not commit for the right price. And now this demon was talking about breaking into the Ice Court, about getting Matthias to commit treason.

This is interesting to me, because Matthias is pretty much only this negative about Nina and Kaz. To me, it really reflects how Matthias basically thinks anybody who has experienced marginalization or poverty is evil~ Also, his interpretation of the Dirtyhands nickname being tied to "sin" is... telling.

“I worry about everything, merchling. That’s why I’m still alive. And you can keep an eye on Jesper, too.”

Maybe two people who follow me will understand when I say this but... Why is this line almost word-for-word a line John Sheppard has said?

ANYWAY. Kaz worrying about everything. Kaz having plans on plans on plans. Kaz catastrophizing about everything as a matter of survival.

He saw a shadow pass over Inej’s face. She wouldn’t like being without her knives any more than he liked being without his cane.

!!! EQUATING HIS CANE WITH HER KNIVES !!! Especially since this is near the section where Inej thinks about how her knives make her feel like she's safer and has more agency in her life.

The sensation of skin on skin set off a riot of revulsion in Kaz’s head, but because he’d been anticipating the attack, he managed to control the sickness that overcame him.

We love accurate representation of what touch aversion is like~

“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.” He’d turned his back on her then, giving each of his gloves a sharp tug. “And when I want a sermon on that, I know who to come to. If you want out, just say so.” Her spine had straightened, her own pride rising to her defense. “Matthias isn’t the only irreplaceable member of this crew, Kaz. You need me.” “I need your skills, Inej. That’s not the same thing. You may be the best spider crawling around the Barrel, but you’re not the only one. You’d do well to remember it if you want to keep your share of the haul.” She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t wanted to show just how angry he’d made her, but she’d left his office and hadn’t said a thing to him since.

This has happened a couple of times already; Inej will say something that low-key hurts his pride or his feelings, and then he'll snap back at her in some way he doesn't really mean. I think he is particularly harsh to her at times because she is generally harder to warn off his sensitivities than the others. (Absolutely not an excuse, just an observation. He's fully in the wrong here and most of the time, lol.)

It’s just a place, she told herself. Just another house. How would Kaz see it? Where are the entrances and exits? How do the locks work? Which windows are unbarred? How many guards are posted, and which ones look alert? Just a house full of locks to pick, safes to crack, pigeons to dupe. And she was the predator now, not Heleen in her peacock feathers, not any man who walked these streets.

as;dlkfj i love that inej tries to see things through kaz's eyes to try to feel in control. I think this is why she understands him better than most people; that is EXACTLY the reason he thinks that way too.

#. headcanon #. aj reads soc

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