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bettyfrommars · 4 months

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I'm on Fire

chapter 18: the ties that bind

masterlist playlist

18+ MDNI

If you've come this far in the series, you know what to expect. No physical violence in this final chapter, but there might be some jealousy, protective/jealous Eddie, and threats. Steve with an OC character, parental Stobin, unprotected sex, oral, and meeting the extended family. Can't say goodby without a glimpse of Charlene. Reader is an artist and a vegetarian, but I try hard to keep away from any physical description.

word count: 15k

official author's note will be at the end of this chapter. I cherish you, my I'm on Fire fam, I'm so grateful for the ride, and I hope you enjoy this one.

"It's a long dark highway and a thin white line Connecting baby, your heart to mine."

-- the ties that bind, Bruce Springsteen

The next morning, a new Henderson opened her eyes to the world.

Steve was the next one to hold her after her parents, and he hadn’t expected to cry, to have his throat close up around his emotions and choke him when he was told they named her Stevie. He held her so close but so gentle and he barely noticed how wet his cheeks were until Robin came close and rubbed her palm in circles on his back.

“She kinda looks like me. That’s weird right?” Steve hushed, voice catching in a tearful hiccup. He was already thinking of the tattoo he would get with her name, inside his arm, close to his heart.

“Yeah, that is weird and impossible, Dingus,” Robin smiled into his shoulder, stroking a loving arc over Stevie’s little infant forehead with her finger. “But she kinda does.”

The labor had been long, the sun was up, and everyone was exhausted. Astrid was at the house making breakfast while you and Eddie looked after Oliver. He insisted on watching Pee-Wee Herman's Big Adventure again, and that was when you learned it was one of Eddie’s favorites as well; he knew every line by heart. He mimicked Ollie with the chant, “I know you are but what am I, I know you are but what am I?”

And it was only then that you realized why Eddie had made a joke once about violently cutting off your mattress tag, the one that specifically said DO NOT REMOVE. Also, it explained why Steve so ardently wanted to start his own biker gang called Satan’s Helpers.

After breakfast, Eddie took you back to the Hammer to get your car, and even though you didn’t want to socialize, you were also in no mood to be stranded at your place without wheels. Jackie reminded you that you looked like shit on your way through the smoky haze from the late morning drinkers. You simply nodded in silent agreement, and it wasn’t so much a nod as your head lazily bobbing on a spring. Your internal clock was out of whack, and you desperately needed a shower. A shower and a soak in the healing waters of some type of magical pond that could heal you from the inside out.

Maybe a month on a beach somewhere.

And then you pictured Eddie in a pair of loud, tropical swim trunks and giggled to yourself.

You were just about to leave the locker room with your paycheck and a few of your things, when tall, blonde Erika pushed in with a concerned look on her face, making you back up. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, covering the “Safety in the Workplace” poster.

“Hey, so, that guy is here looking for you again,” her whisper was urgent.

Your heart sank for a second as the memory of Craig gripped you. You had to remind yourself that he was long gone.

But you wondered if a part of him would always be lurking somewhere near, haunting you from beyond the grave.

Your next guess was Chief Hopper, maybe he had more questions for you.

“What guy?” You were hoping she had a clue, or asked a name, so that you could prepare yourself, doing your best to smooth out the front of your shirt.

She only shrugged. “He’s older, Paul Newman type. Smells like he’s made of money. This is the third time he’s been here asking about you.”

It still didn’t ring any bells, but you’d only slept a half hour on the couch curled up next to Eddie while Pee-Wee stormed the Alamo looking for his bike.

You took a slow peek around the corner of the bar from the hallway and saw John Gregson sitting there with a drink in his hand. Full head of salt n’ pepper hair slicked back off his face, wearing one of his signature gray suits.

Was he by himself? The way Charlene had been popping up like a bad rash lately, you almost expected to see her there, playing the dutiful wife.

You hid yourself in the hallway again, wondering if you had it in you to have a conversation with anyone, let alone him.

To say his face “lit up” when he saw you would be an understatement; He looked as if you’d been pulled from the rubble of a burning building, and he thought he would never see you again.

You found it hard to match the enthusiasm, even though he’d turned out to be a decent guy.

He stood up from his stool and Shana gave you both a curious look from behind the bar as she poured a shaken martini into a glass. She was wearing one of her long, black wigs that day with Bettie Page bangs.

“It’s good to see you,” he gestured to the seat next to him, his icy blue eyes shone like the Mediterranean Sea. “It’s been a while.”

You sank one hip onto the padded stool so that one foot was still on the ground. You didn’t want him to think you were staying for too long.

“I’m sorry I’m so behind on your painting, life has been—”

He put his hand up, palm out to you. It was his left hand and you noticed that he was not wearing his wedding ring.

“Please, don’t worry about the painting. Take all the time you need, that’s not why I’m here. Can I buy you lunch?”

“I-I…” you fumbled. “I was just on my way out.”

“A drink then?” He cleared his throat and shifted closer casually so that his knee was touching yours. He swirled his drink in his hand. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to do it over the phone.”

Your anxiety spiked a bit, and it wasn’t as if he was a serial killer or anything, but his sudden shift in proximity gave you pause. You asked Shana for an iced tea and gestured for him to follow you to one of the more isolated tables against the dark red wall, underneath a framed Led Zeppelin poster. He pulled your chair out for you before getting settled with his gin and tonic, making sure to use one of the black cocktail napkins as a coaster.

“I know you’re busy,” he cleared his throat. “So, permit me to get right to the point.” He removed the two stir straws from his drink and put them on the napkin.

“First of all, I’d like to apologize for my wife. I believe she’s caused you quite a bit of trouble.”

You had not expected that one

His stare was too intense, you had to shift your attention and take a gulp of your drink.

“You see,” he settled back, keeping his forearms on the table. “I met Charlene when I was barely out of high school, we were together before I made my money, and I always felt like I owed her my blind devotion. Lately it’s obvious that we only make each other miserable.”

He continued. “I’m not a stupid man. I always knew about the other boyfriends, not that she made much of an effort to hide it,” he smiled wryly to himself. “Not to bore you with the details of my failed marriage, but I know that Charlene’s the reason you lost your job at the gallery, and I’d like to rectify that, if I can.”

Realization dawned at his words. Why hadn’t you put those pieces together earlier? Of course Charlene was the reason you lost your job, she probably threatened to remove her funding and ruin Judith.

You could barely catch up to what he was saying before he started again. “I’m opening a gallery in Chicago, and I’d like you to come out and run it.”

You choked and had to cover your mouth with the back of your hand. “Excuse me?”

John smiled so genuinely at your reaction that the skin around his eyes crinkled. He undid a button on his suit jacket to get more comfortable. “You’d have full creative license, you’d be able to hire your team, do with it what you wish. I trust your vision.”

It was that opportunity you’d been dreaming about for years, the one you’d been working toward for almost a decade.

So easy, just like that.

Here, take it, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

…but was it?

Your head swam, vision tunneling slightly as you glanced around the Velvet Hammer. You imagined Steve on his stool at the door and Eddie pulling you aside in the hallway to kiss you. The song Everlong by The Foo Fighters was on, and you thought about how Chicago was over three hours away. You’d have to move; it was much too far for a commute.

“That’s such a generous offer, I…I don’t know what to say?”

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” and before you knew what was happening, his hand slid across the table and was on top of your fingers.

Your eyes flashed to his hand over yours and you sat there shocked while your need to be polite overrode your core instincts.

“I know there’s a lot to think about,” he continued, removing his hand to cup it around his drink again. “Of course, I’d pay for all of your moving expenses. I own a building downtown with an artist loft I think you might be interested in. You’d have plenty of room to live and paint, start fresh, if you wanted to.”

Start fresh.

You felt like Shana had slipped a psychedelic into your tea, like you were melting into your chair. Your brain was having a hard time keeping up with the reality of what was being offered.

He tossed back another sip and wiped the corners of his mouth, looking almost unsure if he should say the next part. “Charlene and I—” he licked his perfectly straight teeth in contemplation. “---we’ve decided to go our separate ways. We’re selling the lake house, a few other properties, and she’s planning to move to Hawaii to be near her sister.”

A thought zipped through your mind then. How long had Charlene known she was leaving? Why would she become a partner in The Velvet Hammer and then move to Hawaii?

“That means I’ll be at my condo in Chicago most of the time, unless I’m traveling for business,” he gave you a pointed look again. “There are so many places I’d love to take you to in the city. If you are interested, that is.”

“Well,” you laughed nervously. “I’d need to talk to my boyfriend about it. About the job, I mean. Moving to Chicago. His whole life is here.”

“Certainly,” John nodded, not missing a beat. “You talk to him and when you’re ready, you have my number. The gallery space I’m buying needs work, so I’d like to fly you out there in a week to take a look at it, once you decide.”

You were still staring glassy eyed at the edge of the table after John stood and left the Hammer. You hadn’t remembered to breathe in god knew how long, so you tried that, letting out a hard exhale that made a cocktail napkin go flying off the table.

Would Eddie move with you? Visit you on the weekends? The latter seemed more likely but also not, considering how demanding his work schedule was. Katie told you that Robin had asked her to move in, and you were overjoyed for her. She’d be paying her share of the rent and utilities for the next month, but after that you’d either need to find a smaller place or a new roommate because you couldn’t afford your duplex on a Velvet Hammer salary.

One week was all you had.

Did you even need a week? Surely you knew your answer.

—-------

The tires on the tow truck screeched to a stuttering halt out on a Hawkins back road lined with cornfields.

Behind the wheel, Eddie idled there, right in front of that familiar white picket fence around the big yard and the farmhouse with a porch swing and a red barn in back.

Eddie knew the details of the old Ferguson place by heart, it had been his dream house ever since he was in high school and used to take long rides on his bike to clear his head. The couple that had spent their life raising a family there were in their 80’s now, and he’d heard through the grapevine that they were relocating to a retirement community. To a smaller place that was easier to care for. All of their children were grown and lived far away.

The newest addition to the house was where his eyes fell.

His attention fixed on the sign at the end of the driveway for a long while, heart thudding in his chest.

The old Ferguson Farmhouse was for sale.

—---

The next day was the Welcome Home Baby Stevie barbeque at Steve’s and he had a blue “Kiss the Cook” apron on and a spatula in his bandaged hand when you and Eddie arrived. He wore an elastic bracelet made of colorful plastic beads around his wrist that you assumed was a new gift from Oliver. The sky was bright blue, almost blinding, and the air was crisp.

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked on the way up the driveway to Robin and Steve’s backyard where the lawn had been neatly mowed and edged. “Anything you want to talk about?”

You hated keeping things from him, but you had no idea how to bring up John’s offer, or if you even wanted to mention it. Eddie had invited you over to his place the night before, but you’d told him you needed some time alone to get to bed early. Turns out that being alone with your thoughts only made it worse.

“No, I’m fine my love, I promise,” you leaned into him. “I’m just tired.”

He put his arm around your shoulders to scoop you closer and kiss your ear. “I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Make you a bath, pour you some wine, kiss you all over. How does that sound?”

“It sounds—” you felt emotions water your eyes suddenly and you blinked it away as quickly as you could. “That sounds perfect.”

You felt guilty that you were even considering John’s offer, but how could you not? A very hopeful part of you said that both were a possibility, that you could keep Eddie and have your dream job in the city. But how? You couldn’t take Eddie away from Wayne and Oliver and his business, you would never ask that of him.

“Is Wayne coming?” You asked, noticing you did not see his truck. Also, your thoughts were racing again and you needed a distraction.

“He’ll be here later,” Eddie assured you. “Astrid is picking him up on her way over. Max and Lucas stopped by the garage for a visit and I didn’t want to disrupt the reunion.”

You felt a bit embarrassed at the mention of his longtime friend Max, only because you’d been made to believe that she was a mysterious redhead that Eddie was having an affair with not too long ago.

Thanks to Charlene.

You imagined that Hawkins would be a much better place without her lurking around every corner. Was there a chance that Judith would take you back on at Moon River Gallery? No, you had no desire to go crawling back to that place. Unless a new gallery opened, or your art took off to celebrity status, you’d be waitressing at the Hammer and squirreling away your tips for the foreseeable future.

But, you’d have Eddie.

You’d been spacing out so hard, you barely realized that Robin was standing in front of you, offering to take the sack with a Tupperware full of homemade potato salad and hamburger buns. Eddie was carrying your veggie burger patties that he bought especially for the occasion, and the fixings to make tofu skewers. You told him you were a vegetarian once, and you never had to remind him again.

“You good?” Robin asked, noting the way you shook your head a few times to come back to reality. Katie came up behind Robin to place her hands on her girlfriend’s hips before she moved over to your side.

“Have a beer with me?” Katie asked softly, reading the weariness in your slightly hunched shoulders.

It was officially fall, but the weather was warm for Indiana in late September. Eddie had on his Iron Maiden concert tee under his jacket from their 1985 World Slavery tour and black converse with his worn jeans, and he took his leather off and threw it on a lawn chair as he walked over to the grill.

“You better leave the hard stuff to me,” he said to Steve, shifting his gaze accusatory to grill. The last time he let Steve grill your veggie burger, he’d charred it within an inch of its life.

“Have at it,” Steve dusted his hands together. “I have to go check on my pie in the oven.”

“You baked a pie?” Eddie gawked at him like he had hornets crawling out of his ears.

“Well, Astrid made it,” he pinched a few sunflower seeds out of the front pocket of his apron and popped them in his mouth, chewing as he spoke. “It’s cherry,” he bobbed his eyebrows up and down a few times suggestively, and Eddie scoffed, elbowing him out of the way so that he could put his skewers down on the folding table.

You were just about to take the first sip of your beer when a man’s voice that was not familiar called over from the driveway.

“There’s that long-haired freak I’ve been looking for.”

The skin on your arms prickled with gooseflesh and you spun around, thinking there was about to be some sort of trouble.

Slightly unrealistic to think the worst, but you were understandably alert.

There at the edge of the lawn stood a tall, handsome guy you’d never laid eyes on before, maybe in his late 20’s, and he had a Coffin Kings cut on that was very similar to the one’s Eddie and Steve wore. At his side, holding his hand was an adorable redhead. Her long hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap, but you noted that the bright candy color was deeply familiar.

You turned to see Eddie’s reaction like you were watching a tennis match.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he beamed. “Look what the cat dragged in, "and he stopped what he was doing to make his way over with his arms out and the two hugged, giving each other hearty pats on the back.

“Max!” Robin squealed, practically doing a cartwheel in that direction. You and Katie fell back and stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the group reconnect in a way that was very familial.

Lucas and Max had been together since high school, you learned, and Lucas was a member of the Coffin Kings Indianapolis chapter. The song Love Spreads by The Stone Roses played from Robin's portable boombox on the steps as the new arrivals meandered in to be with the rest of the gang and assimilated with ease.

Eddie rested his hand on your lower back to introduce you, and instead of a handshake, Max went in for a hearty hug, and in your ear, she said, “Eddie loves you so much, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

When she pulled back to meet your eyes, you nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ve heard so much about you,” you told her, and then Max shot a look at Eddie and made a crack about how she hoped it was all good things that you’d heard.

They were even more interested to meet Katie, being that Robin had not been serious about anyone since before Oliver was born. Just then, the Oliver in question came bursting out of the house flying his hot dog bun through the air like a plane, making engine noises.

By the time Dustin and Suzie came by with their new baby, the smell of burgers charring on the grill filled the air and you helped Steve bring some more chairs out to the lawn. Eddie was taking much care to keep your vegetarian stuff away from the meat, and you couldn’t help but notice with deep adoration.

Astrid had a lot on her mind. So much so that she didn’t have it in her to make the usual banter with Wayne that she enjoyed when they were together.

“You okay, darlin’?” Wayne turned to her in the truck on the way over.

“Oh,” she tucked a thick swatch of dark hair behind her ear. “You know, just thinking about how excited Steve must be about the new baby.”

There was a distinct melancholy in her voice. One of the reasons the relationship between her and Steve had never gone any further than besties who make love was her refusal to take away his chance at a big family. She was barely 21 when a doctor told her she’d never be able to conceive. Well, technically he said there was a small chance—a hairline percentage—but that it “would take an actual miracle”---those were his words.

She loved Steve too much to not let him be a dad. He was made for that life. Ever since he was a teenager, he’d known he wanted to be a father, and once he had Oliver, she knew she’d done the right thing. She’d tried to keep their relationship platonic time and time again, but in the end, the chemistry between them always proved to be too strong.

She’d decided that she would love him until he found someone else, and then she would continue to love him from the shadows. She’d given her heart long ago, and with him it would stay.

“Hell, look at the head of hair on that kid,” Wayne said when Suzie introduced him to her daughter. He gave a crooked grin and stroked a finger along the back of her tiny, exposed hand.

At that, Dustin took his cap off and swiped a hand through his unruly mane. “Thank god the rest of her looks take after her mother.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lucas grumbled, thumping his friend in the arm.

Steve had his back to the crowd when they came in and Astrid spanked him on the bum on her way up the stairs to the kitchen.

He spun on his heel and was quick to cage his arms around her so she could only squirm. His face was flushed and glowing. “You meet the kid?”

“I did,” normally, she would’ve kissed him, but instead she pulled back a bit, tilting her chin away. “She’s so beautiful, Steve.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I—” she knew she was a fool to think he wouldn’t be able to read her face, a fool to think he couldn’t read her like a book after all of those years.

Steve frowned, examining her face for a clue to her distress.

Astrid’s stomach felt like she’d swallowed a lead weight.

She hadn’t decided if she should tell him or not.

About the secret she’d been carrying with her for a few days.

15 years, that’s how long she’d been in love with him.

Back when he was 19 and she was 23.

They’d known each other since they were little kids.

“I need to talk to you later,” she told him.

Steve dropped his arms from around her but held her hand. “You can’t tell me now?”

She’d be 38 in December.

“Later, okay?” She winked at him to ease his suffering, and then made her way into the house, knowing that he stood there the whole time and watched her go.

But later that day never came.

Wayne wanted to get back and rest before his chemo treatment, and Dustin and his family only stayed for about an hour as they were all understandably still exhausted and wanting to recover at home.

Astrid waved goodbye to Steve on her way out, and Steve stood up from his chair thinking he’d get a kiss, or at least a hug—but then she was gone.

He tried not to think too much of it. If he’d done something to upset her, she was never shy about letting him know. Maybe she was tired of socializing, maybe she needed a break from him.

Lord knows he wished he could take a break from himself.

Eddie looked over at where you stood talking with Max and Robin, and he recalled the conversation he’d had with Wayne a few days earlier.

“I don’t have to tell you you found a good one,” Wayne said from the couch in his trailer while Eddie sat next to him. “I think you know they don’t come around very often.”

“Oh believe me, I know,” Eddie raked a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead one, two, three times. “I keep thinking one day she’s going to wake up and realize she could do a lot better.”

“You’ve done better than you give yourself credit for,” his uncle returned in a low, steady voice.

When the next words came, Eddie felt a tightness in his throat:

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Wayne had a hard time leaving the house the day after his treatments, so Eddie always came by to bring him lunch and make sure he had everything he needed. One day he came by to check on Wayne and found that you were already there, doing his dishes for him.

He’d never been with anyone who cared about the people in his life like that.

Back at the barbeque, you slipped up next to him and planted your lips on his bicep, breathing in the sandalwood and leather of his scent. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Since you asked,” he smirked. “I was thinking how I wish I’d met you a lot sooner.”

“How much sooner?” You batted eyes at him once he turned to face you. “In high school?”

Eddie made a yuck face. “No, you would not have given me a chance in high school. I would’ve been a lovesick puppy, but you probably wouldn’t have even known I existed.”

“Are you kidding?” You stuck the tip of your tongue out between your teeth, examining him. “I would’ve jumped your bones so fast.”

“So fast, huh?” He chuckled, taking you by the hips. “What about now?”

He pulled you in and you hummed against his lips, trying not to get too horny right there in front of the guests.

Lucas and Max would be in town for a couple days, so you and Eddie made plans to meet up at the Velvet Hammer when you were off work on Tuesday. By the time the sun went down, all of the visitors were gone, and you were happy to head home as well after helping with some cleanup.

“Robin and I can take care of it,” Katie nudged you away from trying to wash out a casserole dish at the sink. “You get out of here and go rest. Make Eddie rub your feet or something.”

You both stopped what you were doing to look at each other.

The way you were searching your friend’s face made her turn to give you her full attention. In the background, you could hear Steve trying to convince Oliver to get his pajamas on and brush his teeth in a sing-song voice.

“I can’t believe how much has happened in these past few months,” you still had soap bubbles popping on your wet hands and you slid them absently along the thighs of your jeans.

Katie gave a thoughtful sniff. “I think about it a lot,” she mused. “About that night on the couch at our place when you first told me about the guy who picked you up in the tow truck, and then meeting the boys at The Hideout and then—”

She cringed and covered her face with a dish towel, remembering her “date” with Steve. “---it feels so surreal that Steve and I actually…well…I don’t want to think about it. It’s too weird.”

“But then you and Robin found each other again,” you offered, thinking back to that first barbecue at their house when Eddie had to take off suddenly for secretive Coffin Kings business.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell your friend about the offer from John Gregson. Katie knew you better than most people and you could always trust her advice to be on the mark.

For some reason, you wanted to cry, just drop to your knees and start bawling right there on the kitchen floor. For no one reason just

Everything

Katie caught the way your jaw moved like you were just about to say something, but then Eddie’s hands were snaking around to hold your back flush to his chest. Your hair caught on his beard stubble when he leaned in, warm breath at your ear. “You ladies need any help in here?”

You closed your eyes; you were glad to have him there. Glad to be in his arms, glad to know, in your heart, that he would always try his best for you.

But you were the one keeping a secret.

Robin joined Katie at the sink and told you both to take a hike, lovingly.

Steve came into the kitchen after you were both gone and the engine of Eddie’s Chevelle could be heard thundering down the road.

The first thing he did was pick up the beige, wall-mounted phone and call Astrid. He stood there for a while with the receiver pressed to his ear and his other arm folded over his chest before he held the mouthpiece out in front of him and stared at it.

“She’s not answering,” he mumbled loud enough that the girls could hear.

“Maybe she’s at Wayne’s? Did you check there?” Robin offered; her hair worn up in a haphazard ponytail.

Steve checked the clock first to make sure he wasn’t bothering Uncle too late, but it was barely 8:30 and he was probably up in his recliner watching M*A*S*H reruns.

Wayne answered and they exchanged a few words, but then when Steve hung up again, he was quiet, contemplatively so.

“What did he say?” Robin asked impatiently, drying some silverware with a checkered towel.

Steve frowned. “He said she dropped him off almost two hours ago and told him she was going home.”

He tried her house one more time and, again, no answer. He let it ring five times but disconnected once her answering machine clicked on.

“Maybe she went to bed early,” Katie shrugged. “And turned the ringer off.”

Steve knew better; Astrid barely slept. Normally, not being able to get a hold of her would not phase him, but something about the way she’d been acting that night set an alarm off in his gut.

Outside, there was the sound like a firecracker bomb going off that shook the house. Robin yelped and Steve bolted to the window to yank the yellow curtain back to see where it had come from.

He got there just in time to see a streak of lightning crack the dark sky and a drizzle of rain hit the glass. “Oh shit, good thing Eddie came in the Chevelle,” the droplets turned into a downpour as he stood there.

“Looks like a hell of a storm is brewing.”

—----

Earlier that day, Charlene Gregson marched out of Murray Bauman’s office with her lawyer in tow. She wore her oversized sunglasses and no expression on her face as they went down in the elevator and exited into the austere lobby. She looked like a million bucks, which was probably the cost of all of the gold and diamond jewelry she had on.

Outside on the busy street, her personal chauffeur was waiting by the Towncar to open the door for her while her lawyer, a pit-bull of a man named Saul, got in on the other side to slide in next to her. Billy was out there waiting on his bike, to make sure no one bothered her on their way out. He flicked his cigarette to the ground and revved the engine, angling to fall in line behind the Towncar.

“You sure this is what you want?” Saul posed the question to her as he slammed his door shut. They’d just thrown a lot of money at Murray and had him sign official documents.

Charlene sounded annoyed. “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? The deal is done.”

He continued. “I suppose I’m still trying to wrap my head around why you would—”

“I don’t pay you to ask personal questions,” she sniffed. “Just make sure there’s a smooth transition. I don’t want to be having a cocktail on the beach and find out that you fumbled something, and I’m forced to fly back out here.”

The town car sailed into traffic and the two sat in silence for a few minutes until Charlene stared out the window at the passing buildings on their way back to the lake house.

“Have you ever been in love, Saul?”

He was confused by the question and tapped his foot a few times. “I can’t really say I have.”

After recent events, and everything that he’d been tasked to do in her name for the benefit of someone else made him wonder. “What about you?”

“Only once,” she pressed her red lips together, eyes unblinking behind her sunglasses. “And once will have to be enough.”

Saul assumed she meant her soon to be ex husband John, and so he left it at that.

—-------

In a matter of seconds, the rain was coming down in sheets and the windshield wipers on the Chevelle were flapping back and forth at supernova speed.

“We could go back to my apartment if you want,” Eddie turned the Faith No More song down on the radio so that he could be heard over the rain. “But your place is cozier, and I know both are fairly small but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

“I think I want to stay at my place tonight,” you blurted it out, keeping your attention fixed on the dash, staring at nothing. “Alone, if that’s alright.”

You could see in your peripheral vision that he turned to look at you, and you offered a reflexive smile, shoulders hunched a bit as if you were trying to fold in on yourself.

He smoothed his palm around the steering wheel and tried not to let the sensitive side of him that had been abandoned his whole life jump to conclusions. Not everyone needed to sleep next to the person they loved every night; you wanting space was totally reasonable and had nothing to do with your feelings for him.

Right?

Just in case, he decided to make sure. “Was it something I said or? Cause if there’s an issue between us, you know you can talk to me.”

For some reason, his insistence to have healthy communication irritated you. Possibly because you knew he was right and you should put it all out on the table and talk to him, but you didn’t know how. Your brain had barely been able to process the offer from John, let alone put the whole thing into words.

“It’s nothing you did,” you said softly. “I just need time to think.”

Something about your tone and choice of words made his heart rate increase. “Think about what?”

“Just stuff Eddie, okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now!” You snapped at him, for the first time ever.

After everything with Erika and Charlene and Melanie and thinking he’d been cheating on you, you’d never lost your temper with him, and the two of you had never had a fight. As much as you knew that arguments and disagreements were a very normal part of intimate relationships, you still felt like shit the second the words came out with such vitriol.

There it was, Eddie’s biggest fear: you were pulling away from him.

He’d suffocated you just like he was prone to do. He was “too much”, and now you were getting sick of him.

For the next few minutes of the drive to your place, neither of you said a word.

You because you didn’t want to take your confusion and anxiety out on Eddie, and Eddie because he didn’t want to sound like a whiny, needy bitch and make things worse.

He parked up in your driveway to get you close to the door, but he kept the engine running to let you know he was honoring your wish to drop you off and let you be.

You took a deep breath and flipped the manual lock up with two fingers.

“Wait, let me—” he was about to get out and come around to hold his coat out for you so that you wouldn’t get wet, but you were too quick for him.

“I’ll be fine, goodnight.” you were soaked the second you stepped out, fumbling in the pocket of your bag to find your keys.

“I love you,” Eddie’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the weather.

“Love you too,” you said quickly, and then you were bolting for the house, wishing you’d left the porch light on.

Once you were inside, you clicked the deadbolt shut and watched the beam of Eddie’s headlights retreat.

This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous.

There’s a beautiful man out there who treats you better than you’ve ever been treated in your whole life.

You threw your bag on the floor and undid the lock to jerk open the door again.

You stumbled out into the rain. “Eddie wait!”

But all you could see were his taillights as he pulled onto the main street and drifted away.

—------

Back at her house, Astrid let the phone ring.

At one point, she had her hand on it, ready to pick up, but then decided against it.

It was impossible for her to be fake with Steve, but she also wasn’t ready to be as forthcoming as she needed to be.

She stood at the table and looked at the paperwork from the doctor's office one more time before she made her way over to the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest to let the tears fall hot and heavy.

She had her eyes closed, so she didn’t notice the lights approaching in the driveway or hear Steve shouting her name from the sidewalk as he stood out in the rain.

He’d borrowed Robin’s car to ease his mind and make sure Astrid was okay. What if she had slipped and hit her head or something? What if she was there with another dude? Also, a possibility under their “don’t ask, don’t tell” relationship agreement.

The white t-shirt he had on was soaked through, making the tattoos underneath look like they were a design imprinted on the material that hugged his muscles.

He banged on the door with the side of his fist and shouted her name again.

By then, Astrid could hear him, but she stayed curled on the couch and waited in vain for him to give up and leave.

—--

Eddie scowled to himself as he parked the Chevelle in one of the garages and made his way across the parking lot and up the steps to his apartment, shaking his wet hair like a dog. He could hear a few of the guys partying in the clubhouse, and he thought about joining them, but realized his spirits were too low to be social. There was a punching bag in the back office where he normally did his workouts to burn off steam, but he wasn’t in the mood for that either.

He told himself he would check on you first thing in the morning, but then it occurred to him that you might not want to hear from him right away. He wanted to respect your wishes, your boundaries.

He didn’t want to smother you.

On the nightstand next to his phone was the card for the real estate agent he’d visited the day before. There was a room on the second floor of the Ferguson farmhouse with a view of the big backyard and he imagined setting some easels up to make it a place for you to paint. It had a big living room with a fireplace and a workshed in the barn. He wanted to talk to you about it, to ask if maybe you could see yourself living there. With him.

But now he wondered if things were moving too fast.

He crossed his arms over his body and took his shirt off in the bathroom mirror. He rubbed a hand down his stomach, noting the areas of skin that were not covered in inked designs. The fanged bat with wings spread wide on his chest, the dragon design on his bicep, the grim reaper on his forearm. A crude dagger made to look like it pierced his skin just under his rib cage that said, “true friends stab you in the front”. There were other bits of traditional biker flash scattered around that Steve had doodled on him over the past decade. On his other forearm was a memorial tattoo for his mother with her name, the year she died, and an angel statue with eyes that dripped blood, surrounded in roses and thorns, and the thorns came down over the back of his hand. It was done in a way so that the bats that had been inked there earlier were still visible.

He was barely 15 when another friend inked HELLFIRE on his knuckles. It was done with a homemade tattooing gun like the ones used in prison, and the letters had to be redone later because they were basically chicken scratches. One of the other earliest ones was the skull with a snake through it on his opposite bicep with his nickname “War Machine” underneath.

Some days, he wanted to get them all removed and start over.

Other days, he wanted to go balls to the wall like Steve and be inked from ear to foot.

He threw his soaked shirt in the hamper and was just about to grab a beer out of the small fridge near his desk to take into the shower with him—

but then there was a knock at the door.

At first, he thought it was one of the other Coffin Kings, trying to drag him down to get plastered with them, but then he noticed that the rapping of knuckles was soft, cautious even.

“Eddie?”

His head snapped around at the sound of the voice.

It was you.

—------

Steve held his finger on the doorbell, relentlessly. “Astrid, if you don’t answer the goddamn door, I’m gonna break it down! You know I will!”

Astrid wiped her face, flapping her hand to dry her eyes and cheeks to the best of her ability. She still had on the flowy, floral, maxi dress with an empire waist that she’d worn at the barbeque, and she wrapped a black shawl around her shoulders as she stomped begrudgingly to the door.

Just as she was about to reach up to unlock the safety chain, there was a loud thud from Steve’s foot slamming into the wood, vibrating the hinges.

“Steve stop!” She yelled, fussing with the second lock on the doorknob.

She yanked the door back and there he was: soaked to the bone.

There was only a short awning over her front steps, and so he was standing as close to the frame as possible while more thunder rumbled in the distance. His wet hair had flopped into his eyes, and he swiped it back with a twist of his head, spitting to the sidewalk as he did so.

His expression was one of anger at first, but then it melted into confusion when he could tell right away that she had been crying. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“This is a bad time,” she stayed blocking the entrance, although the yearning in his eyes was actively testing her resolve.

“The hell it is?” He pushed. He shifted to see behind her, as if there was someone or something she was hiding. “You’re upset, I can tell. Let me in.”

“No.” That was her answer, but Steve wasn’t having it.

He stomped up onto the threshold, wet hair dripping onto her face as he closed in, bracing his hand on the door so that she couldn’t shut it. “Why don’t you want to see me?”

She tried to look everywhere but his face, but then his hand caught her chin and guided her eyes up to meet his.

“Talk to me,” he whispered from lips dotted in water droplets.

There was a tug of war going on in her heart, and in the end, Steve won. He always did.

She didn’t invite him in properly, she just turned on her heel and left the door open, knowing he would follow her into the living room.

His boots squeaked from all the moisture on her hardwood floors. He always liked to take his shoes off when he came to see her, but it was too late for that. He found her sitting on the couch in the dark, but he could only see the outline of her curly hair.

“Why are you sitting here without any lights on?” He reached down and flicked on a tiny wicker lamp that was on the nearby bookshelf.

“You ask a lot of questions,” she mumbled.

He pinched the front of his shirt to peel it from his body and flapped it a few times as if that would dry it out. “What did you want to talk to me about at the barbeque?”

“You’re soaking wet,” she got a good look at him in the light and suddenly felt bad that she’d made him wait out there.

“No kidding?” He snorted sarcastically.

“You left some of your clothes here last time. I folded them in the third drawer,” she hugged the pillow. “Get into something dry and then we can talk.”

He stripped down to his underwear right there in front of her, staring at her the entire time, as if he was worried she would bolt and try to hide from him. His patchwork of colorful tattoos was a jumble of loud expressions of his aggression and passion. In honor of his nickname Taz, he had several Tasmanian devils doing various things including riding a motorcycle and one on the back of his arm giving onlookers the middle finger. The ones on the front of his thighs were all self-done when he was just a kid, practicing his craft. When he was a teenager, he used to tease her and call her “Asteroid” and just above his knee was an asteroid with a fire tail crashing toward a heart-shaped earth. Besides the Seek and Destroy tattoo on the side of his throat, his skin was full of phrases, including the big “FTW” letters in an arc under his ribcage that stood for “Fuck the World”.

He went into her bedroom and brought out a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt with “Gary’s Plumbing” advertised on the front pocket. He dressed in front of her as well, keeping a relentless eye.

“You really are ridiculous, you know that?” She put her chin in her palm and waited patiently for the show to be over.

He flapped his arms out to his sides like a little kid waiting for approval on his outfit. “Okay, beautiful. I’m dry. Time to spill the beans.”

“Can you sit down, please?” Her heart flopped in her chest as she considered the words that were about to come out of her mouth and the effect, they would have on him.

In Steve’s experience, when someone asked you to sit down before they told you something, it was always their attempt to soften the blow of bad news. “Why can’t you just tell me now? You’re freaking me out, babe.”

“Steve,” She pleaded sternly. “Trust me, I need you to sit down for this.”

—------

Eddie barely had time to greet you before you were pushing by him to get into the studio apartment. You were hugging yourself, and anxiety had your stomach in knots.

“I need to talk to you about something,” you gushed.

Eddie stood at the door, keeping his back to you while he locked it. He was shirtless, dark hair dripping down the pale muscles that flexed under his flesh.

You looked around, trying to decide if you should sit or stand when your gaze landed on the painting you’d done for him after that first time you met. He had it displayed front and center, right above his desk on the main navy-blue wall, as if it were the most important piece in the room.

You were pacing when he turned toward you, the wheels in your mind spinning.

When he got closer, you stepped further away, but he caught your wrist. “Hey, why can’t you look at me? What’s going on?” His voice was sterner than he’d intended it to be.

“I can look at you,” you made yourself meet his stare to prove his point, but it was difficult. You felt like he could see right through you; all of your doubts, all of your fears and insecurities.

“Sit,” he directed you over to the end of the bed, facing the small sitting area with where there was a couch and a coffee table in front of an old Zenith tv.

Next to you, the mattress sank under his weight, but in your mind, you were somewhere else.

“So, is this it?” He released a heavy breath and started to play with one of the rings on his hand, pulling it up the finger and then pushing it back down to the knuckle.

“What do you mean?”

It was he who couldn’t look at you now. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” You blurted it, eyebrows pinching together in frustration with the way you couldn’t get the words out. “That’s not…I didn’t mean…I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

A rush of endorphins filled him with temporary relief while he waited for your next words.

You stretched your neck from side to side, swallowed hard, and then you told him.

You told him about John’s offer to run your own gallery in Chicago, the opportunity to have the artists loft you’d always dreamed of. You picked at a piece of skin on the side of your thumb as you talked.

“But I said I needed to talk to you about it first,” you added.

Eddie got to his feet and went over to look out the window over the garage parking lot. “Sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” he mumbled.

You weren’t breaking up with him, but you were, in fact, leaving him, which was much the same thing.

“Well, it’s complicated,” you said, watching as he went over to snatch his pack of smokes and lighter off of the coffee table.

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me,” the cigarette bobbed between his pinched lips as he talked, cupping his hand to light the end. “Sounds like you already know what your answer is.”

“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I’d already made my decision,” you countered. “I want to know what you think.”

“Well,” he scoffed, exhaling a sharp plume of smoke down his chin. His eyes were much darker now, almost black. “No one in their right mind would choose to stay in Hawkins, not with an opportunity like that on the table.”

He almost added, “no loser biker boyfriend is worth it,” but decided it was not the right time to be self-deprecating.

“But I like it here,” you mused. “More than I ever thought I would.”

“We’ll always be here, trust me,” he was trying to remain cool, but his exterior was cracking. “So, this John guy has been stalking you or something? Getting you to do this painting for him was one thing, but now he’s waiting for you at your job to get you to what? ----Move to Chicago to be closer to him?”.

The smoke came out his nose that time and the muscles in his throat tensed. He had a bad feeling about that guy before, but he wanted to respect your business ventures and give you space.

The change in Eddie’s demeanor made you wonder if that was the time for full transparency. In the end, you’d made a promise not to have any secrets from each other and you wanted to keep your word.

“There was mention of that, yes,” you said cautiously, nibbling at your lip.

“Mention of what, exactly?” Eddie scowled, cocking his head to the side.

“He said there were lots of places he wanted to take me to in the city,” you recited the words cautiously.

Eddie laughed and threw his head back; it was much more of a crazy, maniacal cackle. “Oh shit, maybe I should pay him a little visit? See if pretty boy wants to show me the city too.”

“Eddie.”

“What did you tell him?” He was fuming now, grinding his jaw as he stabbed the half-smoked cig into the ashtray.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” you repeated, but in a much louder voice. “I said I needed to talk to you, my boyfriend.”

“He knows you have a boyfriend, and he still pulled that shit?” Eddie bit the tip of his tongue between his teeth with a grimace. “That fucker needs to get rolled.”

“Eddie!”

“No, I’m serious,” he was yelling now, but more about the situation than at you. “I gave him a chance to be cool, to be a gentleman, and he fucked it up. I told you babe, dudes like that, with money, think they can take whatever they want. Well, he can’t have you, unless it’s over my dead fucking body.”

“Well, it’s my fucking choice, and I don’t want to be with him, I want to be with you, asshole,” You shot to your feet.

You’d realized something on your way over to his place and it was that you really did not want to leave Hawkins.

Every rational bone in your body told you to take the offer and run, but the other bones in your body, the not so rational ones, told you that you’d finally found your family and a place you belonged.

“Listen to me,” you grabbed him by the arm and made him turn, his hair flying over his shoulder. “I don’t want to take the job, okay? I want to stay here. With you.”

Eddie nostrils flared. It was taking all of his strength not to go out looking for that pencil pushing dweeb Gregson. But if he actually got his hands on him in the heat of the moment, he was afraid of what he would do.

“I’ll move with you,” Eddie wet his lips, a new idea flashing behind his eyes.

“With me? To Chicago?”

“Yeah, no, I could make it work. Hire another manager here, another tow truck driver. Come back and check in a couple times a month,” he walked by you as he talked, plucking at his lower lip with thumb and forefinger. “I could get a job at a garage in Chicago, easy. There’s even a King’s chapter there. I could get Bones to patch me in.”

“What about Wayne? And Oliver?”

“We’ll come back to visit,” Eddie nodded at the plan that was forming in his head. “Steve and Robin and the kid love Chicago. Maybe we can get a place with a spare bedroom for when they come up.”

“But what about—”

“I know this means a lot to you, this opportunity,” he cut you off. “I know I’m a dirty, biker asshole, but I’m not going to be the reason you give up on a dream.” He went over to the dresser drawers and pulled out a Pabst Blue Ribbon shirt to pull on over his head. The armholes were cut wide, and the collar was frayed.

“But what if I don’t want to live in Chicago?”

Eddie squinted like he hadn’t heard you correctly. “What now?”

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “I’ve been thinking that I don’t really care about that world anymore, the art world I mean.”

“You don’t want to paint anymore?” He appeared hurt by this notion.

“No, I do, I will always paint,” you corrected with a wave of your hand. “But the retail side of it, the snobby clientele, the stress, I’m not sure it makes me happy anymore. Not sure if it ever did.”

It was Eddie who took a seat that time, perching on the back of the sofa. You could tell he was trying to understand, but the information was coming at him a bit too fast.

“I don’t want to work at the Hammer for the rest of my life, either, but it’s okay for now,” you were working through the revelations as you spoke them aloud. “I have a friend who is starting her own greeting card company, and she wants me to do some artwork for her. Little by little, I can make a living while still doing what I love.”

Eddie’s thoughts drifted back to the farmhouse, and how much he felt like it fit the both of you.

“Are you telling me you chose Hawkins? Really?”

You went over to situate your hips between his knees and brushed his bangs off his forehead. “No, I’m saying I choose you, asshole,” a smile tugged the side of your mouth up. “Hawkins is a bonus, yes, but I will always choose you.”

Foreheads met then, and Eddie forced out a long-held breath from between tight lips. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”

“The only thing I regret is that I didn’t get to jump your bones in high school.”

He chuckled, repeating what he’d asked at the barbeque earlier. “Well, what about now?”

In the back of his mind he was thinking, “that John Gregson is still a dead man,” but he kept it to himself.

—----

Steve flopped down next to Astrid on the fluffy, tan sofa so violently it was as if he’d been thrown there by a force of nature. He scooted closer and pawed at her hand so that she would intertwine her fingers with his. He was reminded of all of those times as a teenager when he would get hurt on purpose just so she would patch him up. She was a couple years older and wanted nothing to do with him back then, but nevertheless he melted under the tender touch of her attention every time.

“I’m all ears,” he prodded eagerly when she did not speak right away.

Keeping Steve’s hand with hers, Astrid turned to face him and tucked her bare feet underneath her, adjusting the stretch length of her dress.

Steve watched the way her long hair fell across her neck and ample cleavage.

“Okay,” she cleared her throat. “What I need to tell you is—”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, perpetually distracted.

“Steve?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

Another big inhale and then: “These past few weeks, I could tell something was…off. I thought it was early menopause because I missed my period.”

Steve stared blankly, trying not to get turned on watching her lips move.

She let her gaze fall to their hands clasped on Steve’s knee, wondering if any of it was real, or if she was still dreaming.

“Is it cancer?” He dared to ask, squeezing her hand. “Because I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll find the best doctor at gunpoint if I have to.”

“Steve!”

“What? You’re making me crazy! Tell me everything's okay?”

“I’m not dying, Steve.”

“Well then what is it? I’ve been going out of my mind and here you are—”

“I’m pregnant.”

His body had been moving, vibrating even, but it all came to a complete halt at that.

As if he’d been flash-frozen on the spot.

A mannequin of himself; mouth open, one eyebrow up.

He shook his head, confused. “Hold on, what? But I thought you said that you—”

She played with the hem of her shawl. “I was told it was impossible. I was told it would take a miracle.”

“Wait a minute, so—” he gulped and then leaned forward to search her face, one arm scooping behind her. Her eyes were glossy again, on the verge of another wellspring.

“Is it m-my…is it my baby?” He stammered.

She could only nod, chin quivering as more tears gathered at her lash line only to race down her cheeks once she blinked.

Steve lost it then too, sucking in air before he choked on his own emotions. He brought her hand to his chest and held it there. “My baby,” he gasped, eyes flooding. “You’re having my baby. We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped and sniffed. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? How could you even think that?” He was deeply offended that she would question his reaction to something he’d wanted his whole life with her, specifically.

He was wiping her tears away with his thumbs as she spoke. “This is far from convenient, Steve. The way we both live our lives, we never planned for this. We barely have two pennies to rub together between us and—”

“Shhhh,” he kissed her nose and her eyelids and her mouth. “Money comes and goes, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, but you and this baby. Our baby.”

Our baby. He couldn’t stop saying it.

He hadn’t known about Oliver until a few days before he was born, and he always felt robbed of all that time in the womb when he could’ve bonded with his son. Tina had been a three-day fling at a music festival, and he never had any intention of seeing her again. He’d been prepared to do the right thing though, to be a family even if it killed him, but then Tina just handed him a baby boy a week old and drove away, as if he knew what the fuck he was doing.

Robin had been in the car waiting for him when it happened. She saw him standing there in the street holding that screaming baby in a blanket and right then and there, a mother was born.

He put his hand on Astrid’s stomach, gently. “Can I feel it move yet? The baby?”

She laughed into her hand as she wiped her nose. “I’m barely seven weeks along, silly.”

He curled down like he always did when he put his head in her lap, but instead he placed his ear on her stomach, massaging her thigh with his hand. “I don’t think you can hear me, little one, but daddy has loved your mother his whole life and I love you very much.”

His next words were to Astrid; a murmur into the meat of her. “Will you let me love you now? The way I’ve always wanted to? Will you stay with me?”

She scratched her fingers through his hair, and then held his head there when his arms went around her waist. They stayed like that for a long while.

A bit later, in bed with her head on his chest, he was half asleep when she whispered: “You know that twins run in my family, right?”

—------

“A geriatric pregnancy,” Steve told you from across the bar when you were both back at work the next evening to the tune of Connection by Elastica.

You made a face while you put some limes and shots of tequila on your tray.

“That’s what they call it, I guess, when a woman is over 35,” he shrugged. “A geriatric pregnancy. So, I’m forcing her to take it easy.”

He was letting you and Shana in on the good news, and he’d been grinning from ear to ear for so long, his cheeks hurt. His gold incisor caught the red lights like it had a ruby in it. He’d even been smiling in his sleep, somehow, as Astrid noticed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

“I’m so happy for you,” you mirrored his enthusiasm. “Does Eddie know? Wayne?”

“Not yet,” he made a loose fist and cracked his knuckles. “We wanted to tell Uncle together. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn’t wait,” he added sheepishly. “She knows I can’t keep a secret like that.”

“I’ll wait and let you give Eddie the news,” you told him. “I think he’d rather hear it from you.”

“Where is that War Machine?” Steve looked around, adjusting his sunglasses on his head. “I owe him a drink.”

“That’s a good question,” you glanced at the clock that was up by the wall-mounted tv. “He said he was going to stop by, but that was almost two hours ago.” It didn’t concern you too much because your boyfriend was a busy guy, and last-minute things were always popping up at the shop.

It was on your to-do list to call John on your break and let him know you were turning down his offer. The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if he’d planned to hire you on merit, or if he just wanted to get into your pants. When you thought about the possibility of the latter, it made your blood pressure spike.

You delivered a round of drinks to a table, and on your way back to the bar, there was a man in a suit coming through the door, holding a briefcase.

Steve gave him a nod when they made eye contact, but he didn’t ask to check his ID because the man had a graying hairline and was possibly mid-fifties at the least. He was fit though, and had a very confident demeanor about him. He looked like he was there to do business.

“My name is Saul,” he introduced himself to Steve with a handshake and Steve stood up from his stool to be eye level with him. “I’m looking for Steve Harrington.”

“You found him,” Steve rolled his neck, wondering what he could possibly want from him.

Saul gave a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes.

By then you were at the bar, acting like you were busy so that you could eavesdrop.

“What’s this about?” Steve pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, exposing his tattoos.

“Well, it would behoove you to give me a moment of your time,” he moved one side of his suit jacket back to shove his hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels.

“I have some business to discuss with you on behalf of Charlene Gregson.”

—------

John Gregson had no idea he was being followed.

He vaguely registered the sound of the loud pipes from the motorcycles rolling up to Margie’s diner, but he was having a late lunch with a business associate and didn’t pay much attention to it. He preferred white tablecloth lunch meetings, but in Hawkins there weren’t many choices. Their BLT was unbeatable though, as was the chocolate cream pie. He’d have to calculate them both into his low-carb diet and spend extra time at the gym in the morning.

He had his back to the door, making notes in his date book as the man across from him spoke over the sound of clattering dishes and silverware.

He felt the shadows pass over the table, but he figured it was a group on the way to sit at a booth further down.

But they came to a halt and loomed there, smelling of leather and tobacco.

John glanced over the top of his reading glasses at his companion first and saw that the color had drained from his face.

There were four members of the Coffin Kings glaring down at them.

Eddie frowned at the man with John and jerked his thumb to the side. “Get up,” he said. “Find somewhere else to be, I need to talk to your friend here.”

Devlin sank into the booth behind John while Van stood across the aisle flipping his butterfly knife, and Lucas stayed next to Eddie.

“Now, hold on just a—” John began to protest, about to get to his feet, but Lucas clapped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed him back down with calm, steady force.

His companion’s eyes darted from Eddie to John a few times before he gathered his things in a rush, tucking all of his papers under his arm, and shimmied past Van while holding his breath. It was clear he had no intention of going to wait at another table, he was down the row of booths and out the front door in a flash.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie sank into the seat across from John, wallet chain dragging on the vinyl as he settled in, stretching his arms wide along the back of the bench.

Lucas turned his back on the two but stood in the same spot, feet planted wide, hands in his pockets, blocking John from leaving.

With a resolute nod, John put his pen down. “Have we met? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure—”

“Cut the crap, man,” Eddie huffed with a lazy grin and hooded eyes. “You know exactly who I am.”

John took his glasses off and tucked them inside his jacket pocket. “Fair enough. How can I help you?”

Eddie plucked a pack of smokes out of the front pocket of his cut and motioned for Devlin to toss him a lighter.

“This is a no smoking section,” John reminded him, pointing to the sign on the wall with a red line through a cigarette.

Eddie stared at him as he lit the end and sucked in his cheeks until the cherry glowed orange.

He waited until after a generous exhale to speak, directing the smoke into John’s leftover pie.

“You see, John—can I call you John? I’ve been really…patient when it comes to this infatuation you have with my girl. More patient than you deserve, I think.”

John clicked his tongue. “Now, you misunderstand me, I—”

“I haven’t misunderstood shit,” Eddie scoffed a laugh.

The waitress came over, and John was sure she was going to tell him to put his cigarette out, but instead she just gave him the most flirtatious smile. “You want some coffee, hun? You hungry?”

Eddie finished taking another drag and winked at her. “Just coffee for me, darlin’,” and then he gestured to the other Coffin Kings. “Get these boys whatever they want and wrap it up to go. It’s on John’s tab.”

Once she was gone, Eddie continued. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, slick,” he reached over to tap the ash out on John’s plate. “Once she finishes this painting, you’re gonna to pay her more than what you initially offered, and then you’re never going to see her or talk to her ever again. Comprendo?”

John used the back of his fingers to push the plate a few inches away, dabbing the sides of his mouth with his napkin. “My offer for her to run my gallery in Chicago had no devious intentions, I assure you. I genuinely believe she is that talented.”

Eddie ground his teeth, jaw muscles bulging. “She’s beyond talented, you got that right, but she doesn’t want to work for you. You’re a creep. Throwing money and big promises around to get what you want. I know your type.”

“My type?”

“Has your wife ever mentioned me?” Eddie inquired, exhaling into John’s face.

He watched John visibly go rigid.

Rhonda set Eddie’s coffee cup on a saucer down in front of him with extra creamer and poured him a steaming cup.

John cleared his throat. “I think it would be in her best interest—”

“You don’t know what’s best for her,” Eddie bit. “Who are you, her fucking dad?”

He’d said it a bit too loud and a few people from other tables craned their necks to follow the sound.

Eddie leaned forward, whispering tensely. “I don’t think I have to tell you that I have friends in low places. People who will do what I say at the drop of a hat. You think you can hide behind your money? You’re wrong. The people who pump your gas and make your food and clean your bathroom? They’re all with me. You’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. If you fuck with me on this, if you seek my girl out after I’ve told you not to? Well, then, I hope you like dentures sweetheart because I’m gonna pull your perfect, pearly teeth out one by one.”

By the time he was done, his hand had curled into a fist on the table. He spread the ringed fingers out wide and then made the fist again, making John look at it.

Eddie snubbed out his smoke in John’s pie with a sizzle and then settled back in his seat, relaxing his shoulders. He cocked an eyebrow up. “Are we good?”

John sat back as well. “We’re good,” he acknowledged stiffly, adjusting his suit jacket.

Eddie slapped the table and gave John a wink. “Well, this was fun,” he chuckled. “We should catch up more often.”

He took a quick gulp of his coffee and slid out of the booth.

He stopped to bend over and whisper, “don’t forget to tip well, slick,” in John’s ear on his way out.

—-------

By the time Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer, swatting away plumes of second-hand smoke as he went, everyone knew that Steve was going to be a dad again. Even the new customers who’d barely just walked in the door that evening.

Astrid had prepared for this.

One of the many complicated reasons she’d waited more than a week to tell him was because she’d known that, if he knew, he’d be announcing it to everyone he passed by on the street.

Steve jumped from his stool and hugged Eddie. “I’ve got great news, man,” he clapped Eddie a few times on the arm, over the thick leather jacket he had on.

Eddie had been on his way across the room to you when his friend stopped him, so the sudden affection took him off guard. “I like good news,” he caught your eye over Steve’s shoulder and smirked.

Steve let him know that he was going to be a dad again, which Eddie assumed would happen sooner than later, but he was surprised and delighted to know that Astrid was the mom. They both knew that she’d been told it would be nearly impossible for her to conceive.

Steve leaned in. “This proves it, man, I have a magic dick.”

“Sure you do,” Eddie scoffed, patting Steve on the cheek a few times. “Only took you 15 years.”

Before you could greet him, Eddie was already in front of you, pulling you flush to his body. He started to walk and you took backwards steps to stay with him. “Can you take your break right now?”

“I wasn’t going to for another hour but—”

“I need to talk to you,” he hushed.

“Um, okay, well,” you glanced over at Shana and she waved you off.

His mouth found yours the second you were obscured in the dark hallway. You figured he’d be escorting you out to the alley where you usually took your breaks with him so he could smoke, but this time, he pulled you into one of the two unisex bathrooms and locked it behind him. The bulbs inside were red, and it set an eerie, bloodwashed glow.

“This place sees a lot of action,” you mumbled into his kiss as he worked your skirt up so that he could take a handful of the meat of your ass. “I like to call it Steve’s Office.”

Before you knew what was happening, he was hoisting you up onto the sink counter with a grunt. Your thighs and bum were fully exposed now, covered in fishnet stockings, and one of his hands held your face while the other rubbed a knuckle over the heat between your legs. Your panties and stockings were preventing him from going further, but not for long.

You were about to protest, to say you had to get back to work, or to remind him how many women Steve had probably railed in that very spot, but

Fuck

And just when you softened with a shaky moan, he kissed a trail down your jaw and throat, with a few nibbles in between.

You whimpered, spreading your legs further apart, Doc Marten booted feet locking onto his thighs to keep him close.

“I have something..” smooch “...that I need…” smooch “...to ask you…” smooch

“Right now?” You palmed his hard length over his denim and then went to work at undoing his belt buckle. “We only have 10 minutes.”

He leaned back, letting his cherry bitten lips hover there at eye level. His bangs were getting too long, he needed a trim, and you brushed them to the side, off of his eyebrows.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

You blinked a few times. “Into your apartment?”

“No, no,” eager lips found your mouth again and his thumb rubbed circles over the taut nub of your nipple through your shirt. “The big farmhouse down on Marigold Road. I pointed it out once when we drove by.”

You stopped. “The old Ferguson place? Aren’t there people already living there?”

“Not anymore,” he could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear and he hissed, grinding his erection against your thigh. “I want to buy it. For us.”

In your desperation, you reached down and clawed at the section of black fishnet that was keeping him from you, ripping a little further down your thigh than you’d intended to.

Eddie kissed down the front of you on the way to his knees, and then your underwear was pulled to one side and his tongue was on your swollen clit, rolling in circles there.

You dug your fingers into his hair with one hand and supported yourself on the ledge with the other. He sucked a few times, and then his tongue went inside of you, and you bit your lip, squirming to try and repress a scream.

“That is a big step,” you gasped. “Moving in together.”

For the longest time, you couldn’t see yourself living with anyone other than a roommate ever again.

He hummed on your now soaked cunt and then kitten licked it a few times. “I’m ready. Are you?”

You didn’t respond at first because your eyes were rolling back in your head, so he popped off to get to his feet, his chin glistening. He spread your thighs further apart to make room for his hips and undid his zipper.

His pupils bloomed wide as he searched your lustful eyes, insecurities making his heart rate quicken. “Are you not ready? I mean, do you not want that? Is it too soo—”

But then you silenced him with your mouth, lapping up your juices from his chin, moving away a strand of his hair that had stuck there. “I want to see the inside. Could we go look at it together?”

“Yeah we can,” he pushed his boxers down and rubbed the tip of his leaking cock along your slit. “I’ll call the real estate dude in the morning.”

You clung to his neck, jaw going slack as he sank in. “I’ll have to check with Charlie.”

He chucked into the kiss at you mentioning your cat, and then he was stretching you out, easing his way in, aching to be one with you.

“Deeper…more,” you whimpered, and then you each let out a muffled cry when he filled you to the hilt, flush inside of your pulsing heat.

He rested his forehead on yours and began to work his hips, thrusting deep and retreating with a curl of his hips so that you could feel every vein, every ridge, but then you were clenching around him, and he sped up with a curse, a thumb working at your clit.

“This…fuck, I’m going to cum so hard inside of you,” he admitted with a huff. His belt buckle clinked against his zipper with every thrust. “You want that? You want all of me?”

“Fuck, Eddie, yes,” You whined, clinging to him as stars exploded behind your eyes.

His strong fingers dug into your flesh to hold your legs in place, and after a few more shaking pumps, he was spilling inside of you, each of you a moaning mess of “I love yous”, clawing at the other to be closer.

Someone banged on the door just as the two of you were catching your breath and Eddie was still inside of you.

“Get lost!” Eddie yelled, not caring if it was a customer.

“Are you two having a tea party in there? Cabbage Patch meeting perhaps?”

It was Steve, and then you could hear his ruckus laughter as he banged another few times just to be cheeky.

You adjusted your underwear back into place, and Eddie fastened his jeans before he helped you down off the counter. You pulled your skirt down and checked yourself in the mirror.

Yikes.

The rip down your inner thigh was painfully obvious. You wondered if shredding them in a few more places would make it more of “a look”, but then realized that the lighting in the Hammer was not great, and it wasn’t unheard of for someone to accidentally rip their stockings at work.

But what about when Eddie’s seed started to drip down your leg?

“You go,” you shooed him away as he stood there adjusting the collar of his jacket, waiting for you. “I need to pee.”

He was looking at himself in the mirror, rubbing lipstick off his cheek, but then he turned just before grabbing for the door. “If you don’t want to, you know, live together right away, I get it. But with Katie moving in with Robin and all, I figured—”

“You figured we could be roommates?”

He smirked, giving a bashful shrug. “A little more than that, maybe. Roommates with benefits.”

“Yeah?” You sank against his chest, forever helpless to his gravitational pull. “What kind of benefits?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands. “I’ll make you pancakes.”

“You think you can make pancakes?”

“Baby, I've told you before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

—-------

“WAYNE!”

Uncle entered the Hammer and everyone screamed his name like he was Norm in an episode of Cheers.

It had been a while since he dropped by unannounced, and he looked better than ever.

Still much thinner than he had been the year before, and it was hard for him to catch his breath sometimes, but his eyes were bright, and he wore a soft smile more often than not.

Maybe the chemo was working? Maybe there was hope?

Devlin had been sitting on the stool at the bar next to Eddie, but Eddie was quick to tell him to take a hike when Wayne showed up.

“What did the doctor say?” He asked as his uncle straddled the stool and got comfortable. He was in a green and white plaid work shirt and had decided to leave his Coffin Kings leather at home.

Wayne gave a single nod and patted around for his smokes out of habit, even though he’d given it up when he started treatment. “Just heard Steve's gonna be a dad again. He better treat her right, that's all I can say." It was obvious he was damn near giddy at the thought, Eddie could see it in the way a smile kept tugging at the sides of his mouth. "I’m sick of talking about doctors and my goddamn condition. Want to forget about it for a night.”

Eddie respected that, and tapped the bar to order him one of those non-alcoholic beers that they kept cold specifically for Wayne and one other regular patron.

You barely had a chance to give Wayne a shoulder squeeze when Robin burst in through the door, frantically scanning the crowd. There was a dancer on the backstage, working her way down the poll, and Steve had gone over to remind a few rowdy customers to behave themselves. Robin rushed over and met him halfway, in front of the glowing jukebox.

He found no comfort in the way she looked like she’d been crying.

“What’s going on?” Felt like his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. “Are you okay?”

“The spare key,” she held her palm out. “You used it last time and now I’m locked out of the house.”

He felt around in his back pocket. “Where are your regular keys?”

She rolled her eyes, bouncing in frustration. “I lost them somewhere, okay? At work maybe, I’m not sure, but Oliver just threw a fit, I’m on my period, and we’re all just in a really bad mood and want to go home.”

“Alright, alright, here take my key,” he wrestled it off the metal ring to hand it to her. “Just remember to leave the back door unlocked for me. Is Oliver in the car?”

“No, he’s at Katie’s place with her, I needed to take a drive alone so that I could scream,” she snatched the key from him.

“Shit, you had me worried for a second.”

“Sorry,” admittedly, she felt like she was overreacting to something so small and fixable, but more likely her tears were from an accumulation of things. Once the panic spike subsided, her eyes landed on half of a white envelope peeking out of the pocket of his Coffin Kings leather, right above his TAZ insignia. She always teased him and said his official nickname should’ve been Dingus.

“What’s this?” It looked like it had some official lettering in the corner, and she plucked it out to look closer.

They made their way back to the front so he could keep an eye on the door, and she frowned at the name of a law office in the corner.

“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it yet,” he shrugged. “Some douchey lawyer brought it by, said it was from Charlene. It was busy when he came in, so he gave me that to read and told me to call him in the morning.”

“Fucking Charlene?” She balked. “What, is she suing you for not wanting to be her boyfriend?”

“I haven’t had time to open in, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

A group of people came in, and two looked like they were 16, so Steve carded them.

Robin ripped the top of the envelope open. You stepped in front of her on your way to a table, and the two of you collided.

You said a quick apology and were about to ask if she wanted a drink, when Shana shouted across the bar to tell Robin the phone was for her.

“It’s your boss from the motel,” Shana continued, holding her hand over the bottom half of the receiver.

Robin gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s going to ask me to work a double shift tomorrow, I just know it.”

She shoved the paperwork at you that she’d just unfolded, but not yet read. “Hold this for me? Be right back.”

“Oh—okay,” you had the paperwork pressed flat to your chest as you made your way over to stand at Eddie’s shoulder. He was talking to Wayne, but he reached back and squeezed your thigh in greeting.

You hadn’t meant to look, to eavesdrop on their private business.

But once glance was all it took

For you to be fully invested

Charlene’s name was the first thing to catch your eye

And then, The Velvet Hammer

You took a few long blinks, unsure if what you were looking at was real.

You mouthed a few of the words quietly just to make sure you were reading them correctly.

The way you froze made Eddie curious, and he turned his head to see what you were doing.

“What’s up babe? What is that?”

“It’s, uh—” you stammered. “It’s Steve’s. You’re never going to believe this, but um—”

“Can I see it?”

He tried to meet your eyes as he took it from you, but you couldn’t seem to look away from the words on the paper. Your mind was reeling.

Robin returned just as Eddie held the papers out in front of him, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back to read over his shoulder.

Steve meandered over; his curiosity officially piqued at what you were all huddled together about.

“What’s it say?” He had a smoke bobbing between his lips and his hands in his pockets. “Did I win the lottery or somethin’?”

He chuckled, but then you all turned to him in unison, unblinking, mouths agape.

“Yeah man,” a smile curled on Eddie’s lips. “Actually, you kinda did.”

—------

Charlene was on the plane to Hawaii when she read the newspaper article.

A glass of first-class champagne and a window to her right, an empty aisle seat to her left.

There he was, right on the front page of The Hawkins Post:

Steve.

In a bigger city, a business changing hands could fly under the radar, but in a small town, it was newsworthy when a local biker and bouncer becomes a business owner overnight.

A Cinderella story, the reporter called it.

The cover photo was of him out on the sidewalk, standing next to the red door entrance to the Velvet Hammer. Shana was in the photo with him, as were Robin, Jackie, Erika, and you.

Not pictured was Eddie Munson, whom the article mentioned Steve had chosen to take on as a partner.

The article talked about their plans for the Hammer, including bringing in a tattoo studio to the vacant storage space next door.

She ran her finger over his face on the newsprint.

It wasn’t until the end of the article that she got the wind knocked out of her:

“Steve and his longtime partner, Astrid Bautista, are expecting their first child together in the spring.”

She hadn’t expected that.

She had to look away and take a generous gulp of champagne.

Her eyes got a little wet and her vision blurred, but she read it again.

“Did you miss me?” Billy sank into the seat next to her with his sunglasses on and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist of his jeans. He smiled around the pink gum he was chewing and craned his neck to see what she was reading, but she folded the paper hastily and turned it over.

She didn’t answer him, she just stared out the window over the clouds and tried to forget she ever felt a thing.

------

authors note: wow, we did it. This is my first fic series to finish ever 😭 If you've made it this far, you know how much this story and the characters have evolved since those first couple chapters. If this were an actual novel, I'd go back and make it all sync up, give it more continuity, and reveal nicknames like War Machine and Taz earlier in the game. But the cool thing about posting this way for a fandom is that you, the reader, are able to see in real time how the characters develop a mind of their own and take over the story in a way not even the writer can predict. In this case specifically, you can also see how I went from having no idea how to write a reader insert fic to becoming more and more comfortable with it.

I never had any intention of making Charlene a villain. She was literally based off of the wealthy woman in the Bruce Springsteen video for his song I'm on Fire. Just a gal who had a crush on her mechanic. Some of you voiced that you wished Charlene could get killed, or hurt somehow, and for those of you, you can trust that she is hurting. Knowing that Steve will be having a family with someone else is a deep wound.

I've had several requests for a separate biker Steve story with a new reader, and until two chapters ago, I fully intended to follow through on that. But the more I wrote him with Astrid, the more I felt it was wrong to keep them apart. If you are a fan of their love story, I highly recommend visiting THIS masterlist from @texasblues who created Astrid's character. But I do plan to bring a slightly different biker Steve back in a new au, stay tuned 🥰

This of course, is not the end. I plan to drop an epilogue on you all when you least expect it, and it will take place a year or two after the events here. If you are a friend of mine, you will laugh at this because whenever I say I'm going to write an epilogue, I never do. But this time I mean it.

I can't express in words how much your comments, asks, and messages about this story have meant, and will always mean to me. I was living through one of the darkest years of my life when I joined tumblr back in April and started writing this fic, and you all have held me together, whether you realize it or not. I love you and am deeply grateful for you all.

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @emxcast @rhirojo @bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975 @falling-solar-system@secretdryrose

@whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @kurdtbean@dandelionnfluff @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@laylaloves-ed@dashingdeb16@eddiiiieeee @ick90 @dashingdeb16 @polyestermonster @trixyvixx @atomickaratel8dy @kiyastrf94 @allthingsjoeq @eddiesxangel @razzieth @corrodeddeadlydoll @erinekc @angietherose @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @moonbeamsandmayhem @brianamunson92 @joannamuns9n @bellalillyrose @alba8688 @chevelle724

#Eddie Munson #biker!eddie #biker!steve #I'm on Fire #final chapter #the ties that bind #Eddie Munson series #Eddie Munson fic #Spotify

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jayteacups · 8 months

Text

Levi Week Day 3: Shy & Blushing | Affections & Fondness

@leviweek2023

To celebrate your second anniversary together, Levi takes you to see the beach for the first time.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!Reader

Tags and warnings: Back on my soft Levi agenda :3 Fluff, established relationship, canonverse, civilian!Reader, takes place a short while after the beach scene in S3. Mild NSFW (very brief descriptions of oral sex, F receiving). Mild as it may be, I still don't want minors interacting.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: So I haven’t written anything in a while but this event is helping me get over my writer’s block little by little! I missed the first two days sadly, and this is also a day late, but I wanted to at least get something done for Day 3 lol. This is based off a really cute dream I had a few months ago about a beach date with Levi, but I never got around to writing it, so this was the perfect chance to finally put it into words. I am absolutely incapable of writing anything other than soft sappiness lol. Hope you guys enjoy reading!

Before today, the biggest body of water you’ve ever seen was the lazy, winding river that runs right down the middle of your home village, where all the merchant boats come in, where all the kids go to play in the sweltering heat of the summer. You practically grew up in the river. It is a second home to you.

And yet it doesn’t hold a candle to the ocean in the slightest.

Miles and miles of pure blue stretch out far beyond the naked eye, the rolling waves on the horizon glinting as they catch the sun’s rays. Untouched by mankind, there is a serene quiet to the air, punctured only by the splash of water making land and the occasional bird cry.

Such a place could only ever exist in myth, or so you thought.

“It’s like something out of a fairytale,” you whisper in awe.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you from behind. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, it is.”

The two of you are coming up on your two-year anniversary as lovers, and the Survey Corps’ last expedition to the coastline a couple months ago had inspired him to take you out to the beach to celebrate. He had wanted to show you it’s raw, untouched beauty, before the infrastructure development plans are put into motion.

The way the dry sand shifts under your bare feet catches you off guard. Soft, warm and pliant, which isn’t what you expected at all. The sensation makes you giggle. You can’t help but lean over and touch the sand with your hands, picking a handful of it up and letting the tiny grains slip through your fingers.

“Beware of the sand.” Levi says next to you ominously, taking off his forest-green cloak. “Before you know it, it gets everywhere.” He’s decked out in full uniform and gear. Even though Paradis Island has been declared clear of titans, Levi refuses to take any chances.

You look over your shoulder back at your lover, grinning giddily. “Guess we’ll just have to wash it off in the ocean, then,” you declare, heading right towards the sea. Gone is the soreness from days of camping and riding through endless grasslands, your arms clenched like a vice around Levi’s waist as you tremble atop his horse, feeling all too exposed without the safety of the Walls. Only curiosity and joy remain, propelling your feet towards the water.

“Shit—wait, don’t go too far,” Levi calls. You turn back. The reins on his horse are gathered in one hand, both of your cloaks and your shoes in the other. “I’m going to set us up under that tree over there. It’s hot and Mercy needs some shade.”

You tilt your head. “Okay. Need a hand?” You reach for your shoes and cloak to carry them yourself, but he shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I got it. Besides, I can tell you’re practically shitting yourself with excitement to go frolic around.”

“Mm.”

“So you can go ahead. Just not too deep, I know you can swim but the waves might be stronger than you think. And watch out for poisonous shit and don’t pick any sea creatures up. Hange got stung by this weird-ass blob called a jellyfish because they got too cocky after picking up several non-poisonous things despite me telling them every five seconds to not do that, and their hands were covered in welts for a fortnight.” Revulsion passes across his face for a moment as he recalls the memory.

Confused, you frown. He hasn’t told you this story yet. “What’s a jellyfish?”

“Fuck if I know. That’s what Arlert said they were called. Just watch out.” He leans forward and kisses your cheek tenderly. As he pulls away, you notice his ears are flushed. How cute.

“Alright, alright.” You laugh, and follow it up with a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be careful. Come join me soon, yeah?”

The slightest of soft smiles graces his face as he nods, before you turn around and jog back towards the sea, lifting your skirt above your knees.

The sand grows colder, wetter, firmer under your feet, a change that rips another joyous laugh out of you. As you approach, the sea moves forward, as if to greet you, and a small wave splashes gently over your feet. You giggle.

“Hello, ocean,” you murmur, kicking the water to gently splash it back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

A quick scan of the shallows revealed no sea critters. Bummer, you were hoping to at least see what a jellyfish looked like—what kind of an explanation is ‘weird-ass blob’?—but you suppose not seeing one is better than an accidental sting. Lifting your skirts up higher, you wade deeper into the ocean until the water reaches your thighs before looking back at the shore.

On the beach, Levi spreads out his spare cloak as a mat underneath a tree. Next to him, his horse, Mercy, sits and takes a well-deserved rest in the shade after a long journey. He then strips himself of his jacket and boots, before folding them neatly into a pile next to your camping packs. He does the same for your cloak and footwear that you’d discarded carelessly earlier, too caught up in excitement. As he loosens his cravat, Levi’s head turns back towards the sea, evidently looking for you, and offers you a little wave.

You wave back enthusiastically. “Come join me!” You call. As fun as frolicking in the water sounds, you don’t want to do it all by yourself.

Another handful of minutes is spent taking off his gear and straps, before he walks out towards the sea. You wait excitedly, as he slows to a stop, just a hair’s breadth away from where the water stops.

Levi rolls up his trouser legs and tentatively tests out the waters with the tip of his toe.

You grin.

“Don’t laugh.”

You purse your lips. “Not laughing.” He’s just so endearing.

He was like this too with the river near the Queen’s Orphanage, where you work as a teacher. One day, Historia took the orphans to the riverbank to play and invited Levi Squad to spend the day off there with her. You’d waded into the water and beckoned him to follow, only to find him standing hesitantly on the riverbank, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. There aren’t many rivers and lakes down in that shithole where I grew up, are there? I can’t swim to save my shitty life, you remember him saying. Eventually, you’d coaxed him into standing ankle-deep in the river, and he’d ended up watching over the children that didn’t want to venture any deeper either. After all, they had all come from the same place he did. On expeditions and even now on this camping trip, Levi uses a bucket and rag to wash instead of submerging himself in rivers or lakes like everybody else does.

“It’s okay.” You say reassuringly. “It’s hardly any different from standing in the river.”

He gives you a very familiar look of exasperation. “Give me a break. I didn’t get into the ocean when I was here with the others, and I still can’t fucking swim.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to go any further than knee-deep.”

He nods. Despite that, Levi still lingers with his toes barely in the water. Slowly, you get the feeling that his hesitation has nothing to do with his inability to swim.

You purse your lips, holding in a laugh. “I see. You’re scared of jellyfishes, aren’t you?”

He blinks, deadpan. “You’re hilarious. I’m not scared of jellyfishes.”

Your face splits into a grin. “Yes you are.”

“I am not. This is ridiculous.”

“If a jellyfish was to show up right now, what would you do? Hide behind me?”

“If a jellyfish was to show up right now, you’d be the one hiding behind me, just like you do whenever there’s a spider in the house.” Levi crosses his arms and gives nothing away with his expression, but his ears are turning redder by the second.

You give him a teasing look. “Sure, sure.” And even if you did end up being scared of a jellyfish, you know Levi would help you without a second thought. Just like he does with the spiders. “You know, I still have no idea what a jellyfish is. How would I hide behind you if I don’t know what I’m supposed to be hiding from? What even are they?”

“Freaky little fuckers, that’s what they are,” he grouses.

“Okay, well, we’re not going to let a stupid freaky sea creature ruin our fun, yeah? We know that they exist now, and since you’ve seen one, you know what to look out for.” You hold out a hand. “We’ll be okay.”

Levi’s eyes drops towards your hand, clearly debating on whether or not he should take it. He’d been too shy to show any sort of physical affection towards you when Historia and his subordinates were also present, even though everybody was off-duty that day.

Now, though, there is nobody watching.

Just how the both of you like it.

Levi searches your face for a moment, before he quickly snatches up your hands, and takes another step into the water. A new wave rolls in, harder than the rest, and crashes against both of your calves, soaking the hems of his trousers and your skirt.

“See? All fine.”

Still holding onto your hand so tightly his knuckles begin to whiten, Levi scans the waters with narrowed eyes. “Mm hm.”

This won’t do. He’s still far too tense, far too on edge. What you wouldn’t give for him to be able to relax without feeling guilty about it. Concerned, you squeeze his hand.

“Hey. How about we get out of the ocean for a bit? You said we were going to stay here tomorrow for the actual anniversary too, so there’s absolutely no rush. For now, we can walk along the beach as far down as possible and then back up here again. The sun looks like it’s going to set soon too, so it won’t be too hot for us. You won’t have to worry about leaving Mercy alone for a short while, she won’t overheat.”

Bit by bit, the tension seeps out of him as he considers your offer. He squeezes your hand back.

You smile. “Let’s go.”

———

As you walk along the beach, two bright red, shelled creatures make you yelp as they abruptly cutting the two of you off in your tracks, scuttling sideways. You also come across the occasional pretty seashell that Levi offers to hold in his pocket, before eventually stumbling across a strange mass washed up on the sand.

Levi flings an arm in front of you. “Stop.”

“What the—” Realisation strikes you quickly. “Is that a jellyfish?”

He nods stiffly.

“So that’s what it looks like… well, you’re right. It is a weird-ass blob.”

“This one’s triple the size of the one Hange picked up.” Levi informs you in a whisper.

“Um, is it dead? It’s not meant to be out of the water, is it?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think so.” Levi looks back out at the sea, tugging on your hand slightly as he slowly inches backwards. The sun is beginning to set. “Should probably turn back anyway.”

“We could just walk around the poor thing, if you want to keep going.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “But I don’t mind either way.”

He shakes his head, the tugging on your hand growing stronger. “It’s been too long since I’ve fed Mercy. And the sun is setting; we need to set up our tent before dark. Come on, let’s go.”

He’d fed his horse not long ago, but you just suppress a smile of endearment and let Levi eagerly steer you away from the beached jellyfish. You squeeze his hand in comfort, and he squeezes back in thanks.

As the sun sets, the sky burns. Above you lies every shade of red, orange and yellow imaginable. The sight is gorgeous.

But not more so than Levi himself.

You’ve always attested to his beauty, though he’s always quick to say otherwise. But if he could see himself today, alight from the sunset glow, you aren’t sure even he could deny that whatever higher forces are out there took their time shaping every feature of his to perfection.

And he says he’s the lucky one.

As the two of you walk, hand in hand, you both gradually drift sideways towards the ocean, until the two of you walk ankle-deep in water, feeling the sand get drawn in and out under your feet as the ocean ebbs and flows.

Despite his nerves from earlier, Levi had chosen to walk on your left side, the side exposed to the big expanse of ocean. Content to stroll in silence, to simply take in this beautiful feat of nature around you, you notice Levi looking out to the sea every now and then, admiring how the light glints off the waves. Even the curve of his cheek—which is all you can see when his head is turned away from you like this—just fills you with an inexplicable joy. As Levi looks back in front of him to see how much farther the two of you have to walk, you notice his expression is softer, content. Dare you say it: he’s happy.

“It’s really nice seeing you like this.” You murmur, voice barely audible above the breeze.

He looks back at you. “Hm? Like what?”

“Like you’re at peace.”

His breath hitches. At a loss for words, Levi’s pinky curls around yours as he looks back out at the ocean for a moment.

“I have you to thank for that.”

The words are accompanied with an awkward clearing of his throat and a blush so undeniable he could not possibly pin it on the reddish glow of the sunset.

“The last time I was here, it wasn’t like this. It was… All I could think about was…”

He pauses, exhaling harshly, as his feet come to a stop. You come around to face him, taking his other hand. In times like these, you’ve found it’s best to not say anything, to give him the room to gather his words. It’s hard for him to express his feelings and thoughts, and from the small glimpses of his past he’s revealed to you, it’s not difficult to see why. There is no room for vulnerability in the life he leads. And yet, he tries for you. You’re so incredibly proud of him, beyond what your own words could ever express.

“Hange and my squad were having the time of their lives. Armin’s dream to reach the ocean came true. But all I could think about was how everybody who didn’t live to see the ocean should have been there to see it. How much they would’ve loved this place, just like you do.” He swallows thickly. “Then Eren, that brat, he… he goes and ruins the mood for everybody else. He goes and reminds us all of what awaits on the other side of the ocean. As if we could ever forget.”

You remember reading the article about it in the papers. How your blood had gone cold. How faint you felt at the realisation that everything Levi and his comrades fought for, shed blood for, offered up their hearts and lives for, had been for a truth uglier than anyone could possibly imagine.

No. It’s not like you could forget either.

“And if that wasn’t enough, he goes and contemplates what it will take to finally reach the freedom he thought was beyond the ocean. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what his first thought was.”

You feel sick to your stomach. The hurt and shock on your face must be clear as day to him, for Levi shakes his head and pulls you in closer to him, a hand rubbing your back.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have told you that,” he says quietly. “Sorry. I just… before today, that was my first and last time seeing the ocean. This time… this time is better.” Voicing it makes him blush once more. He looks away again. “Much better.”

Reeling from his words, all you can do is bridge the gap and pull him in close for a hug. Inside, there is a sinking, sickening feeling that things are only going to get worse for the Survey Corps from now on.

You close your eyes. “I wish this could all be over,” you mumble into his shoulder. He’s warm under your touch. “You must be so tired.”

In response, he holds you tighter, his body melting into yours, and sighs.

———

On your way back, you feel Levi taking quick, stolen glances at you when you’re looking elsewhere. Every time you turn back to look at him, he’s whipped his head in the opposite direction and is looking out at the ocean, presumably to hide his blush.

You grin to yourself, and look in the opposite direction. Beyond the sand lies a more firm, grassy area with those unfamiliar-looking trees just like the ones you left Mercy under. You and Levi quickly agree that once you get back, you’ll go a little further inland to set up camp, since he’s wanting to avoid getting sand in the tent.

In your mind, you replace a patch of the grassland with a cosy cottage facing out towards the sea. You can almost hear the sounds of joyous laughter being carried by the wind: yours, Levi’s, and perhaps a third voice, much younger, much less burdened by the weight of the world.

The two of you make it back to where you started with still some daylight to spare. You give Mercy some water, and prepare dinner from the packed rations, whilst Levi, having proven himself capable since he does this every time he goes on an expedition, walks a little further inland and puts up the tent.

The moment you two crawl inside and lay down your sleeping bags, Levi presses a searing kiss to your lips. It isn’t long before his head is between your thighs, bringing you to the edge. Always willing to give. Your fingers weave through his silken hair, and tears of pleasure—tears only Levi has ever managed to draw from you—sting at the corner of your eyes.

When you come, he comes—untouched. And after the two of you gather yourselves and clean up, he’s looking at you ever so fondly, like he will never get the chance to look at you again.

“If I could give you the world,” you say, pulling him closer (it will never be close enough), “I would.”

“I don’t want the world,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you, “I never have. I want you.”

———

Long after you’ve fallen into slumber, Levi lies awake, mind racing.

I want you.

He means it in every sense.

Out on the beach, walking beside you and admiring your breathtaking radiance, he’d come to a realisation he should’ve come to a long time ago: he wants to marry you. The question had lingered at the tip of his tongue the entire way back, but he had managed to hold back on asking you right there and then by looking away, catching his breath, letting his burning face cool with the breeze. He couldn’t let himself ask you in that moment. If he was going to ask you to spend the rest of your life with him, he was going to do it properly, with a ring that shines as brightly as you do.

It’s kind of ironic, how this entire trip to celebrate your two-year anniversary as lovers, would’ve been the perfect time to propose, yet he’d been too slow to realise it until now. He decides that the moment he gets back to the Walls, he’s visiting the nearest jewellers.

He’s always been that way, Levi supposes. It had taken him years after your first meeting at that teashop to tell you how he’d felt, and he almost never told you at all. For so long, he had been convinced this could never be in the cards for him. Everybody he has ever loved meets the same tragic fate, and he’s scared that one day, you will too.

But if you ever do meet that fate, he knows in his heart of hearts he will never regret loving you.

He reaches over to pick up his pocket watch. It’s dark inside the tent, but his eyes have always been keen, and he can make out the positions of the hands.

Fifteen seconds to midnight.

He takes a moment to look down at you in fondness. Your cheek is squished against his chest, soft lips parted to let out slow and deep breaths, your arm loosely draped over his side, legs entangled with his.

Ten seconds to midnight.

He dares to mouth the words. Will you marry me?

As if in response, you snuggle up closer to him with a sleepy sigh.

Three, two, one.

“Happy anniversary,” Levi whispers, heart full, and closes his eyes.

Masterlist

#leviweek2023 #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi ackerman fluff #m/dni

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that-sarcastic-writer · 9 months

Text

Safe haven (5)

Soldier Boy/Ben X F!Paramedic!Reader

Summary: You go back to the station, and Ben realizes just how much he doesn't want you to go. He also finds out something very important about you

Warnings: foul language, sexual innuendos (Ben being ben), minors dni, minor drug use, slowest of burns (but eventual smut), no use of y/n

WC: 3.8k

A/N: see were making progress! I'm really happy I decided to give this story a second try. I found my old tag list so I will tag whoever had asked to be tagged for this series. If you had changed your mind feel free to shoot me an ask so I don't tag you in the next parts. Enjoy for now!

Previous part | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist

Thirteen months.

Thirteen fucking months.

Thirteen months of waking up the same, and for the first time, you didn't wake up in a sweat, face covered in tears. For the first time, you didn't wake up with that feeling of dread in your chest.

For the first time in thirteen months you woke up happy to be alive.

The hardwood floors were cold as you padded through your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You were supposed to go back to the station today. You could only take so many sick days before you actually had to give a reason. You hadn't exactly told Ben of this yet. You still had a few hours before you were supposed to head to the station, you'd tell him soon enough.

You honestly broke your own record with how fast you got ready this early in the morning. You normally dragged yourself around the house, not knowing if you were even still alive or if you had become a phantom in your empty house. But lately, you didn't feel so gone.

You sat in front of your bureau, a reminder of the more vintage ambiance of your grandparents' farmhouse, one your father inherited, and later was left to you when your father retired with your mother somewhere with mountains. And your older brothers couldn't wait to see the day they left New York. And let's not talk about your sister, somewhere in Europe in some fancy five star hotel and some stuck up CEOs in tight suits driving her up a wall. She had been the only one out of the four children to not choose a field job like you and your brothers. So ultimately, the large farmhouse meant to house a family of six was left to just you.

But you guessed with Ben still around, it was like caring for three children all in one.

Your mind went to Ben, you wondered if he had slept at all. You often heard him walk late into the night. Or on restless nights of your own, you would sleepily walk into the kitchen to hear the TV play quietly in your living room, which always made you assume he was awake since he had taken possession of the guest bedroom by then. Your fingers mindlessly dug through the tiny box of your jewelry in search of your ear studs as you sat in thought. You still were unsure why he hadn't left. You knew he wasn't planning on leaving town anytime soon, with his fucked up idea of killing Homelander, somehow, but you had expected him to want to take care of his business on his own. Surely you knew he had learned his way around town by now, in spite of your protest, he had been to the city on his own a couple more times after your conversation.

And yet, he always came back.

Your mind slipped from your thoughts at the touch of a familiar ring. Your eyes slowly dropped to the box and you swallowed a lump as you held the tiny jewelry between your fingers. A silver band, the only diamonds being tiny and engraved into the thin band. You weren't one for hand jewelry, not with your job. That was one safety hazard if you knew one. So this ring, though simple, was perfect. And you hadn't dared look at it for a very long time.

Somehow, when you held it in your hand, you didn't feel pain, nor sorrow. You smiled with fondness instead.

You inhaled a deep breath as you set the ring down and dug through one of your drawers. It took you a minute, you had purposely hidden it well, in an attempt to forget about it perhaps, but you ultimately found it. A shaky laugh fell from your lips as you held the photo frame in your hands. That one black and white engraved frame you hung on your wall for years. You looked long and hard. It had been a long time since you had seen your wedding dress.

Another soft laugh left your lips as you held the photo in your hand, and tears filled your eyes. But this time, this time they weren't tears of sadness, or anger, or sorrow, no, they were tears of relief.

You felt that weight leave your chest and you could breathe again.

"Don't smoke that shit inside," You scolded Ben as you eventually came downstairs. You didn't see him right away, but you could smell the joint. You saw his head barely peeking from the couch. "You're gonna stink up the whole place."

Ben half took his eyes from the book in front of him— one you had bought him about PTSD and anxiety, one he chewed you about not needing, that he didn't have PTSD and whatnot. But you had caught him reading it the following day, so he didn't bother hiding it anymore.

"You literally bought me the fucking thing." Ben argued, sitting up and his eyes followed you as you walked back and forth, dressed like you were going somewhere, actually going somewhere.

"Don't care. It's my house, remember? Smoke outside or something. I really don't like going to the station reeking of weed." You answered back, shooting him a stern look before you found the pair of shoes you were looking for and shoved them inside your duffel bag.

Ben furrowed his eyebrows at you and set his book aside, fully sitting now, "You going somewhere?"

You tilted your head at his tone, demanding and authoritative. You widened your eyes at him as if to give him the obvious answer.

"I have a job, remember? The reason I found you in the first place? You said you couldn't just stay here forever right? Well neither can I." You said with a shrug and you left him with that, leaving him to go to the kitchen to make yourself coffee before having to drive out to the city.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow behind you, but you didn't bother looking at him, you could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

"So you were just gonna leave for days and not say shit?" Still that same tone. He sounded upset even.

You turned your head to look at him with disbelief, was he really angry about you leaving?

"I work forty-eight on and seventy-two off. I would've come back the day after tomorrow." You explained with a sigh, leaving the coffee brewing and basically shoving him out of your way as you went back and forth between the fridge and kitchen island. "Besides, I'm telling you now."

He was still in your way, large body acting as a wall in front of you and his eyes were sharp on following your every movement. You tried to ignore him and his brooding expression, but he made it pretty much impossible.

"Oh yeah, that's real fucking considerate of you sweetheart, thank you." He laughed, but his tone was anything but humorous, if anything it sounded like a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.

"Stop fussing. You sound like a child." You rolled your eyes at him, attempting to reach past him for one of the cabinets, but he stood in your way like a defiant child.

"Can't you, I don't know, ask for more days off?" You laughed at his question, which only made him furrow his eyebrows even deeper.

"How long do you think I've been here with you? I have a certain amount of sick days, I can't just take a whole week without reason," You explained, irritation starting to grow on you as well. Your answer didn't seem to convince him in the slightest, you groaned, "I have to work, Ben, I got bills to pay. You'll be fine on your own. Things are better now so you can do as you please, go where you please. Do your own thing."

He frowned at your words, his jaw ticking ever so slightly at the implication of your words. Were you telling him to leave?

Ben watched you finally reach past him to grab your favorite mug, and you were about to turn your back to him, but he grabbed your arm. Despite your short protest, he held you, pressing your back against the counter, keeping you between it and the wall that was his body. His eyes were hard on your face and his lips were in a tight line.

"I don't want to go anywhere. And I don't want you to, either." He sighed out, irritation of his own slipping through. He bowed his head, enough to speak to your eye level, and his piercing green eyes never left yours. "It's not safe out there."

"It never is, Ben. Not with super powered fuckers like you doing what they want out there. But I have a job I have to do. I helped you, did I not? It's what I do."

He understood, truly he did. He admired you even, for what you did, for the risks you took for the lives of others. But he wanted you to be selfish, he wanted you to put your own life first. You didn't understand how bad it had gotten.

"You're not hearing me. It's not safe. Remember that building collapse on 7th?" You parted your lips with confusion, unsure what that accident had to do with anything, but you nodded anyway. "Well it wasn't an accident. Fucking Homelander was trying to teach his little shit of a kid some target practice. Their fucking lasers and their flying tore through some unsupported part of the building and it collapsed."

Your eyes widened with realization. You saw it on the news, not even two days ago, the building was being remodeled and the construction was faulty, so all of the workers inside that building died. But you thought it was just some freak accident. God you felt so sick, if Ben hadn't been holding such a tight grip on your arm you probably would've slipped.

"Everyone inside that building died. They died because that motherfucker thought he could bond with his freak son in the middle of downtown. Do you understand how fucked up that is? And that's coming from me." He was still all up in your face, you didn't want to look at him. But you forced yourself to meet his eyes. And once again, you couldn't read the emotions behind his eyes, but you knew they were anything but good.

"Okay and what the fuck do you want me to do about that? I've been dealing with the aftermath of Vought's mess for years. I was there after Midtown for fuck's sake."

His jaw ticked at the mention and his eyes fell to the side averting yours. And for a second you regretted using that against him, knowing he had regretted it and had been making great efforts to avoid another tragedy like that.

"I didn't blow up half a block because I was bored for Christ sake. It ain't the same." He said sharply, but you didn't know if he was trying to convince you or himself. You opened your mouth to speak but he shook his head, moving away from you now. "I just want you here, out of my way while I take care of it. Why do you gotta be so goddamn stubborn?"

Your mouth was left open, looking for words to say, but none ever came. You were staring at him as he leaned back against the kitchen island, a hand in his hair as he exhaled heavily. Did he care that much about what happened to you? You knew he liked being around, or at least enough not to leave, but you figured he had become indifferent about you once he realized he wasn't getting in your bed.

"Ben," You said his name softly as you dared to stand close in front of him, enough for him to have to tilt his head to meet your eyes. He didn't look at you right away, so you continued. "I understand you want this guy gone, and I get it won't be pretty when you get to him, but you can't keep me here. I can take care of myself, been doing so for a while. I don't need protection."

Ben stared past your head, afraid that if he looked in your eyes he'd have no way to argue back, not when you spoke with such conviction and with that fire in your eyes. He looked up at the ceiling. He wasn't a religious man, he didn't pray, but right now he was begging his shit to stay far away from you.

"I need you out of my way. I want you far away from Supes. On the other fucking side of town far. Do you hear me?" He finally met your gaze, his eyebrows were pulled together as were his lips and his hands came up to hold your face.

"What are you getting yourself into? This won't end well." Your words were quiet as your face fixed into a frown of your own, your anxiety stronger than the warm feeling his hands brought you.

"We had this conversation before. Worry about yourself. I need you safe. If you get a call about aiding supes, that pretty ass of yours better turn the other fucking way."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit at his choice of words, but he squeezed your face tighter as if to show he wasn't joking. You sighed heavily.

"Just don't blow up half a block of innocent bystanders and I'll stray clear of your way. But I can't make any promises other than I'll take care of myself." You finally said, your hands coming to pull his wrists, the feeling of his hands touching your face with such tenderness yet warning made you feel things you weren't sure you wanted to feel. "Now I'll ask that you let me finish getting ready to work because I know I can't outrun you even if I tried."

His lips irked up, "I'd let you try. But it would probably end with you on your back. Definitely wouldn't be leaving this house for days."

The smirk he gave you left you feeling heat in your face and you wanted to punch something. How did this man end up making you feel this way after so long? Why him out of all men? Life truly just couldn't give you a break.

"Fuuuuck. Goddammit." Ben cursed at himself as he threw the cushions back on the couch.

He had been looking for that one post note that had your cell number on it. You had left early that morning and he hadn't heard from you since, the sun was starting to set now. He was feeling restless, with an ache in his chest like he wanted to blow something up. Not even the weed had been helping him.

Where the fuck did you leave that note?

He had looked everywhere. Everywhere but your bedroom. He hadn't stepped foot in your bedroom in the time had been here, not once. You never invited him in, so he never went. He was a dick, but even then, there were some lines he couldn't cross. But he ran out of options and places to look. You didn’t have to know he was in your bedroom. It wasn’t like he would touch— much.

He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting, you obviously weren’t the type to decorate your space with expensive shit. But even then he thought your bedroom matched you perfectly. He walked in, eyeing around for any surfaces where you could have possibly left it. He walked around like a lost child for a minute or two until he ultimately stopped at your bureau. He spotted a notepad and a pen scattered on the vanity.

Seriously?

He rolled his eyes at you, wondering just how the fuck he was supposed to just know you had left it here? He grabbed the notepad, a phone number scribbled in your handwriting in big letters. He ripped out the page, intending to leave your bedroom as soon as possible, before his curiosity got the best of him. But he couldn’t help himself, he was hyperaware by nature. And his eyes found a ring, what he thought looked like an engagement ring just sitting on your vanity. It was hard to miss. He didn’t think about it, he picked it up. He eyed the thin silver band with narrowed eyes, it was definitely an engagement ring.

Were you engaged?

The gears turned in his head as he held the ring between his fingers. He tried to remember if he had seen any signs that another man had lived here. He didn’t remember. You had given him clothes that fit him pretty well, but you had brushed it off as just having brothers. He believed you then, but now? He was questioning it.

He set the ring down and went through your drawers. Just underwear. You had a lot of lacy shit. He smirked a bit at the image of you in a lacy lingerie set. God, he would kill for that. Though he didn’t have time to get hard at the thought when his fingers touched a photo frame hiding in between a layer of clothes. He took it and his eyes grew in size.

You, in a wedding dress and a man embracing you. He frowned at the photo. You clearly had a type. The man in the photo looked taller, taller than you at least, long brown hair that was tucked behind the man’s ears and fair skin. God, you looked so happy. A smile so wide, you were glowing, you looked so beautiful.

Ben chewed on the inside of his cheek with disdain as he dropped the frame on the vanity, rather harshly. He huffed out a breath of exasperation, his skin growing hot. His fists were clenched at his sides as he walked around your bedroom some more. You were married, you must’ve kept your husband’s things somewhere, right?

Your walk-in closet door was closed. He pursed his lips as he invited himself in. His eyes grew a bit. Jesus, why did this woman have so many clothes? He shook his head to himself as he looked around. It was mostly your clothes, and your shoes were scattered all over the floor. He kept looking though, and he found a corner, men’s clothes hung from hangers. They definitely looked like the clothes you had given him. A couple boxers were backed into the corner. And out of the corner of his eye he saw a name scribbled in black marker.

Hunter.

“No seriously, how's Rowan holding up? Parenting beating his ass yet?” You laughed at the question from your buddy, Michael. You thought about what answer to give, you had never actually gone to see your brother after all, but everyone at the station thought so.

“He said he was really missing the station, he would actually get a full night's sleep there.” You weren’t lying, you talked to your brother regularly. They laughed in response.

You opened your mouth to comment some more, but you were cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket. You scrunched up your face a bit as you looked at your phone screen. It read; landline. You closed your eyes in realization, your heart started to race.

What did he do now?

You excused yourself to answer the call. With a long sigh you held your phone to your ear.

“You can’t figure out a cell phone but you still remember how to use a landline?”

You heard a low chuckle from the other end, “They’re simpler. The amount of things on your phone is unsettling.”

“They’re called apps, you old man.” You snorted, leaning your shoulder into a wall, your lips irked up at the sound of him grumbling to himself. “What do you want, Ben? Did you burn my kitchen down, or did you blast a hole through a wall?”

“Christ, what I would give to shut that smart mouth of yours. You must give mind blowing head if you work like you talk.” He said the words so casually you had to hold your phone away from you to process. You closed your eyes and groaned out softly.

“You’re disgusting, and I’m at work. If you just called to antagonize me I'm hanging up.”

“Aw c’mon. I just wanted to hear your voice, play nice.” You rolled your eyes, you could just hear the smirk roll off his tongue with each word. You could see that stupid smirk on his face in your head. At least he couldn’t see you, because you couldn’t hide the flustered look on your face.

“Why do you want to hear my voice?” You dared to ask, lowering your voice so as not to overshare with your coworkers, you hadn't exactly mentioned you had a walking hard on hiding in your house.

“So I can finish rubbing one out.”

“I’m hanging up now.” You were moving your phone away from your ear again when you heard him protest, saying your name with a laugh. You groaned again.

“Okay, okay, c’mon loosen up. You know you missed me,” He chuckled, sniffling softly as he puffed out a cloud of smoke, you weren’t there to yell at him. You bit your lip softly, you were trying to force away a smile, but you couldn't prevent your face from heating up. Your silence made him laugh in a way that made your stomach turn. “You doing okay? You haven’t found my replacement yet, have you?”

“Working on it,” You chewed on your bottom lip, looking over your shoulder. The guys had started running around, shouting indistinct orders. Well shit. “Listen, I think we got a call. I’m fine Ben. Stop fussing. I gotta go.”

Ben sucked in a sharp breath, he kept his mouth shut as he heard you speak to somebody on your end, and he couldn't help his chest ached with anxiety. “Listen sweetheart—”

He caught himself mid sentence, he wasn’t the most rational man on earth, he normally didn’t give a fuck about rationality, but maybe, maybe right now just wasn’t the time. So he swallowed his pride.

“Stay safe.” He finally said, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he dropped his head back against the wall.

“You too Ben.”

He flinched at the loud beeping in his ear and he grunted, slamming the phone back on the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding back the urge to slam his fist through the wall. He hated this feeling, the lack of control he had. Fuck. He had way more important things to worry about. Find Butcher and the kid, kill Homelander, clear his name. Why the fuck did he care so much about a piece of ass he couldn’t even have?

You’ve gotten soft, Ben.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy smut #soldier boy #safe haven #safe haven series

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binniebeams · 4 months

Text

The Sweetest Drink

Pairing: Jongho x AFAB Reader

Genre/Rating: Vampire AU, Smut, 18+. MDNI

Summary: Seeing the boost your friend gets after her late night adventures at a certain club, you decided to join her and see what all the fuss is about…

Wordcount: 2.4k

Warnings: Club settings, alcohol consumption, sexual conversations, blood, descriptions of feeding (Vampire). NSFW warnings under the cut.

A/N: This is so delayed but hopefully it lives up to any expectations!! Also my app crashed mid editing and formatting so there may be mistakes I missed! I’m so sorry!

Tags: @twisted-tales-of-all @yoonguurt @kwanisms @kpop-stories-21 @stardragongalaxy

NSFW Warnings: Vampire biting/feeding leading to sexual desire, fingering, bloody make-out session, fwb-ish relationship.

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It had only been a few years since the government released the information regarding their acknowledgment of vampires living among humans, following it with new laws and regulations to make living beside each other a safe and harmonious experience. Restaurants had to expand their menus, and grocery stores did not have to partner with blood banks or donation centers to ensure everyone was accommodated appropriately. Those are all wonderful options but once the sun sets and hunger arises, people resort to…less organized or regulated options… Underground clubs started to pop up left and right, causing a quiet stir among the more curious humans. One of them happened to be the very reason you found yourself sitting in front of your mirror and getting ready for a night out.

“I don’t know why you’re so nervous to go, I’ve been going for months” Kelly was on a whining spree again as you finished up your eyeliner. She was a regular at the club, forming a feeding pact with some guy she said was named Yeosang if you remember correctly-. A change was definitely noticed in her ever since she started seeing him, from her hair looking better, her skin being clearer, and this air of confidence coming from her every time she walked into a room as if she was commanding attention. You wanted that life so badly, you wanted even an ounce of the power she was oozing… “Oh I don’t know, maybe the idea of someone biting into me and sucking my literal blood out is just a bit nerve-wracking?” Your retort had her rolling her eyes in a playful demeanor as you both slipped your shoes on to head out. Clubs weren't really your thing, you were a homebody, and the idea of a bunch of hot and sweaty strangers grinding on each other just didn’t seem like your cup of tea…But here you were, standing at the door waiting for Kelly to pay your cover and get your hand stamped.

An intoxicating smell of alcohol and sweat filled your senses as you made it through the threshold of the building you questioned the structural safety of-. There was no time for trying to distract your mind with small worries like that, you felt yourself getting tugged to the bar where Kelly let out a sort of squeal from seeing her feeding mate “Yeosang!!” Oh boy, here we go, It's time for her to cling to this dude and have heart eyes while leaving you to the wind. “This is Y/N~ That friend I told you I was bringing for Jongho~” Jongho? Who the hell was that? Did she only bring you along to keep some guy company while she escaped off with Yeosang-. “Her? Yeah, I guess she fits his…type” What an ass, what did he mean by that? you were a catch so why did that feel so condescending? He was eyeing you up and down as if he was analyzing you, all the while he had your friend strung up on his arm.

Yeosang pulled out his phone and typed a few things, you could tell it was short and brief from the fact that his volume was on so the sound of his keyboard echoed in your ears when it should have been the blaring music attacking your drums. He didn’t seem to respond to what he had read on the screen, moving his phone to his pocket and whispering something to Kelly as you stood there like a child waiting to hear whatever mom and dad were talking about. You would never get the answer to the questions in your mind, since Kelly had pretty much begged Yeosang to escape away behind the curtain to what you could only assume were private rooms for whatever use seemed to be needed at the time. A roll of your eyes was paired with the sound of her happily being led away and leaving you there at the bar with your almost empty glass and an urge to order some shots.

“Y/N I’m assuming?” The voice that you heard beside you could only be described as blunt but buttery like he almost commanded you to look at him and that's exactly what you did. His eyes pierced into yours as he approached the bar and leaned against it in a way that indicated to you that he had definitely been here before. “And who is asking?” Your voice was laced with a tone of your guard being up, leaving you only to assume this is the ‘friend’ everyone had been mentioning… “Yeosang told me someone was coming and asked me to show you around.” Oh, he’s lying right through his teeth but your judgment was becoming slightly hazy, due to the mix of alcohol and being around him. Jongho could tell you were on edge so he went ahead and ordered a shot for you and waited for you to down it before gesturing for you to follow him. ‘Do you know what this place is for? I’m assuming you do since people don’t just stumble into a place like this”

Did he think you were dumb? Or just blissfully ignorant? If you wern’t so dead set on getting some action tonight, you’d yank your hand away and head to the dance floor. “I sort of have an idea, I just had no idea it was like…this?” There was a pause as you spoke, watching the curtains go past you as he lead you down the hall and your ears were immediately assaulted with sounds of pleasure mixed with pain and subtle cries coming from behind rows of doors. One of which was the threshold you would be stepping through and it was like the world was suddenly so quiet that you could hear your own heartbeat. “I’m not going to kill you, you don’t have to act like your ready to slap me” Jongho released your hand and moved to sit on the plush looking couch in the room, grabbing the drink menu off the small coffee table and starting to browse through as he left you to make yourself comfortable.

“I just uh, haven’t really done this before…” you slowly warmed up to your environment, deciding to make your way over and sit beside him but still at a reasonable distance to where he couldn’t immediately pounce on you. “I can tell, I’m guessing your friend convinced you, enticed you with what kind of place this was and how you would feel?” How did he know? He hit the nail right in the head-. Kelly would go on non stop about Yeosang and how the interactions felt and how it revitalized her in a way, is this just how it makes everyone feel? “She used to be more like me, I guess that’s why we became so close, but lately she’s seemed like a whole new person, like the better version of herself”. As you spoke, he kept his eyes on the menu and just offered subtle nods or small sounds of acknowledgment to your words.

“Did she explain to you how this happens exactly?” This is when he finally turns to you, eye starting to have a hint of red to them and an obvious darkness filling his gaze. “You just have to lay there and be good for me, give yourself to me and everything will go smoothly. Can you do that for me baby?” The distance between you two started to close and you had no idea what was taking over your body. Was it your growing neediness or was there something more to that tint in his iris?…either way, all you could do was nod obediently as he moved you to lay down, his body leaning over yours as he gazed over you to take a look at his…meal for the evening. “I need you to tell me this is okay, that you give consent my dear…” for someone who seemed like a predator looking at fresh prey, we was considerably cautious in the beginning. That is, until you uttered a quiet “I want this” then it was all self control out the window and his lips attached to yours for what felt like eternity but in reality was only a few moment before those plush lips of his were moving their way down to your jaw, then your neck, giving him the chance to get a hint of your sweet smell.

“Do you even realize how delicious you smell…god this is going to be fun” Jongho didn’t frequent the club much, so he made sure to take full advantage of the time he had here, fingers trailing down until the reach the bottom hem of your dress, expertly slipping it up as his attack on your neck continues and all you can do is let out the sweet song that he wanted to hear. Jongho shifted his body to where he was further down and his face was now near your thighs and burning core, exactly where you needed him as he laid kisses to your inner thigh and his fingers worked to slip your undergarments down and tossing them aside to be collected later. be collected later. They were not the primary focus, what was however, was the breath tickling your core and the fingers dancing dangerously close to your clit that was practically begging to be touched.

“Can you hurry up, it will be daytime by the time you get started..” the request, or demand rather, came out as just a whine and the flushed tone on your skin gave away at the fact that you didn’t actually want him to hurry and end this soon. In fact, this prompted him to take even longer, his thumb drawing slow antagonizing circles on your bundle on nerves as he spoke “For someone so quiet. You sure have your own way of being loud”. You could hear his smug attitude without even seeing his face with those words, his hands working expertly before one of his digits teased at your entrance, testing the waters in how you would react. Once he found a reaction from you that let him know you were ready, he slipped one finger in and let you get used to the feeling before continuing.

The cold touch of his skin felt like ice melting on you when your walls squeezed his fingers so deliciously, it brought a whole new sensation to your core and made you clench so sweetly as his lips did their job to explore your inner thighs. Was all of this necessary for Jongho to feed on you? No, but it sure as hell made it more fun. The next touch made you shift slightly, almost like your fight or flight was kicking in and your brain was in prey mode. Newer textbooks and scientific journals can do their best to try and describe the feeling of having your skin punctured by a vampire's fangs but they fall short in telling the full story. It starts with a burning sensation and what feels like a fourteen gauge needle breaking your skin but not deep enough to reach muscle quite like a vaccination or implant. Once the initial puncture was complete, his teeth receding to standard k-9s and the blood starting to flow past his slightly puffy lips and coating his tongue, inducing a groan from him that seemed so animalistic yet erotic at the same time…

The work he was doing with his fingers increased in pace as he sensed you tensing up from the likely pain you were starting to feel, adding an extra finger in and curling his digits pressing against that delicate pressure point inside of you that he knew would drive you crazy. Bloody lips pulled themselves away from your thigh. His gaze stabbed daggers into your expressions, watching the mixture of pain and pleasure overtake you as he spoke “That’s it, focus on me, not on your pain…you’re so good for me…” ironic coming from the guy that’s gripping your thigh as if you could float away and your blood painting his chin. Jongho was growing increasingly hungry but this time in a way that blood wouldn’t be able to satiate, he needed another essence of yours…that however, would take time, he didn’t want to have the whole meal right away.

A knot was quickly forming in your lower half, there was no denying that his hands were like a sculptor making his next piece of art. Pleasure washed over you as you unraveled, causing a smug smirk to decorate his mouth and make his features look all that more proud. The bit of your blood staining his lips was just a cherry on top of the overall look he had as you started to sit back up but your body felt so weak from the feeding and the end of your dry spell. “See, wasn’t so bad was it?” He prided himself in the fact that you wernt crying in pain and still managed to look fucked out from his fingers alone, wiping his mouth and helping you sit up and collect yourself. This rush of dizziness but satisfaction was all you could feel as you reached to grab your panties and slip back into them as he settled himself into the couch, watching your every move but also going back to that damn drink menu. Is this how all the interactions always went or was this only for the first one?

“Do I need to sign anything or is there anything else involved?” This was your way of trying to hint to him that you satisfied but also this lingering sense to be around him, almost like you two have bonded… “No but next time don’t wear lotion, it messes with the taste when I need to bite”. That damn smirk was going to be the end of you but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself mentally at the idea there was going to be a next time. Was it already having an affect on you? Only time will tell but one thing was for sure, this wasn’t going to be the last time you stepped behind that curtain. Now to find Kelly and actually get a club experience in before you needed food to replenish-. Hopefully she was done already, but if she wasn’t, you knew where you could turn…

#mfu-net #cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #Jongho #Choi Jongho #jongho fanfic #Jongho fic #Jongho smut #ateez smut

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getawayfox · 1 year

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OMG it’s already January! I’m so very late to this and I have seen so many wonderful lists, but I very much wanted to make my own, so I did. We are so lucky to be spoiled by so many incredible fics – here are some (in no particular order) that grabbed me by the heart and never let go.

💀 draco malfoy’s substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (Draco/Harry, E, 10k)

I HAVE. NO WORDS. In the best possible way. This fic has to be experienced first-hand. E is an insane genius. That’s it, that’s the rec.

🧑🏼‍🍳 Make This Leap by @oflights (Draco/Harry, M, 118k)

Competent Draco and disaster Harry my beloved! This fic is so sweet and lovely and I want to live in it forever.

📩 Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed, @lastontheboat (Draco/Harry, T, 10k)

I laughed SO much reading this! It went straight into the bookmarks and I visit it every so often when I need a pick-me-up. And I swear I discover some new clever detail every time I do! Delightful, hilarious, perfect.

🐥 Robin’s Flufftober 2022 by @rockingrobin69 (Draco/Harry, M, 17,5k)

October was my favourite month because every day we got a dose of soft soft Robin sweetness - a moment of peace and safety every time her name popped on tumblr dashboard. I protect this collection in my bookmarks like the treasure it is.

❣️ Draco Malfory Absolutely Does Not Need to Be Loved by Harry Bloody Potter by @nv-md (Draco/Harry, E, 18k)

Draco’s voice in this fic! From the very first sentence (no, from the title!) I knew I was in the right hands. What a treat!

🛁 Rubber Drakey by @crazybutgood (Draco/Harry, T, comic)

This fic is an utter delight, creative and clever, adorable and laugh-out-loud funny. This is Draco in his cutest form!

🌞 Look For Me In the Sun by @wolfpants (Draco/Harry, M, 9k)

Obviously a wolfpants fic had to be on this list but which one? *points at the whole catalogue* There is no way to go wrong there, what a year they had! I think I have screamed most about Pages of you (the number of times AO3 tells me I visited that one is embarrassing), Romp and Circumstance, and The Hollow (yes these are links, what of it, no it’s not cheating), so I’m going mention another favourite: Look For Me In The Sun, gorgeously atmospheric, achy, stunningly written.

🦦 Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (Draco/Harry, E, 77k)

This has got to be THE fic this year for me. It’s fitting, because last year it was Nor All That Glisters, which got me into the drarry fandom properly, so of course it’s Sweet who just casually swoops in with another banger that won’t leave my brain, accompanied by the most incredible Joy art. I think this fic had me already at the tags but I was not ready for everything there is to love about the story - it’s impossible to do it justice in just a few short sentences, but if you haven't read it yet, it should be on your list for sure.

💍 Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise (Draco/Harry, E, 50k)

OTP: inevitable. Two timelines, both so exquisitely delivered: eighth-year drarry and grown-up drarry, both times so different and wholesome. This story is everything I love: nuanced, funny, full of pining and history.

🌙 Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (Draco/Harry, M, 15k)

This fic grabbed me and squeezed, and I don’t think I’ve been able to catch my breath since. I’m actually lost for words here because the story makes me feel so much but I haven’t been able to name it yet and maybe that’s okay. It’s the Tacky way of reaching deep down into my feelings and letting me sit with them.

🍋 Preserving Lemons by @saintgarbanzo and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (Draco/Harry, E, 17k)

I think this might be the only time I managed to guess the author when this was still anon (and, well. The genius artist too). Such intimacy and longing, gorgeous food and so many layers to the story.

🌼 He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by @sleepstxtic (Draco/Harry, Draco/Astoria, T, 5k)

I know that the infidelity tag might put some people off, but this is a stunningly written (devastating) Astoria PoV that absolutely clawed at my heart in the best possible way.

🍎 The Wrong Sort by @vukovich (Draco/Harry, not rated)

This fic makes me want to scream even though Vuk came back with a second part that patched up my broken heart. “I didn’t know how else to keep it” will forever be etched into my eyelids. Thank you, Vuk.

🥂 Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (Draco/Harry, E, WIP)

Technically, this counts because Sly started posting in Dec and I’m obsessed! Flirting! Banter! Oblivious Draco! *screams*

#drarry recs #drarry #fic recs #rec list #2022 favorites

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depressed-sock · 4 months

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By the Flickering Moon We Dance (8223 words) Gift for revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)! Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Shmi Skywalker/Mace Windu Characters: Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Mace Windu, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Darth Maul, Feral (Star Wars: The Clone Wars), Savage Opress, Aurra Sing Additional Tags: Fake Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Force-Sensitive Shmi Skywalker, Sith Apprentice Shmi Skywalker, Sith Empire (Star Wars), Alternative Universe- Hidden Jedi Order, It gets a little bit dark but I tried mostly to focus on Shmi and Mace, mentioned child death, anakin does not die, Mutual Pining, Jedi Training (Star Wars), Sheev Palpatine Being An Asshole, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hopeful Ending, That feeling when you're commiting treason with two differnt parties who don't know each other, or has any idea what you're planning with the other, Awkward Sith Family Dinners Preview:

Shmi looks out the window and sighs heavily at the dreary sight of Coruscant. Clouds billow over the city, threatening the promised rain that’s finally been allowed to set upon this part of the planet. It’s been months since the last and it’s expected to be just as heavy as the last.

She already mourns for the people caught in the lower levels who didn’t have time or the chance to evacuate. Can feel the darkness that feeds into the very air from their fear.

It’s supposed to strengthen her like it does all of her fellow apprentices but… It doesn’t. Not in the way it should anyway. It drowns her. Buries her alive. Sinking into sands she’s long left behind.

Drops fall, splattering against the window and she inhales slowly, closing her eyes as she quietly shuts off her connection to the force. Nothing that will leave her weak but make it muffled. This has been her home for years and she has done what she needs to, to survive here.

She’d never expected to ever leave Tatooine. Never would have guessed that the Emperor himself would find her heavily pregnant with Anakin at the time and free her with a promise. He’d make her strong, help her become what she was always meant to be.

She’d accepted and he’d made her his student.

He tells her that her chains are broken now but… nothing about this life has felt like freedom. It feels like she’s been wrapped up and dragged further into something she’d never wanted to be a part of.

Shmi takes a sip of her tea and opens her eyes when she feels the bright light of her son entering the building. So bright, no matter how much she cuts herself off he’ll always be that bright glow of hope. She fixes a smile to her face. Tired but relieved that he’s been returned to her after his… lessons with her Lord Emperor’s tutors.

She doesn’t have the privilege to know what he’s learning but she does know it has nothing to do with the force. Shmi’s not sure how she accomplished hiding his force-sensitivity the first few years of his life but she’d done it. And when he got old enough to be taught she’d showed him how to make himself quiet.

To everyone else’s eyes he’s like any other null, but to Shmi? He’s a star. A sun so bright, so strong. Her fear grows everyday that one day Anakin won’t be able to quiet the force around him. That the Emperor will see what she’s been hiding under his nose this entire time.

She knows that their time is running out.

Anakin runs through the door and slams straight into her. Hard enough to knock a laugh out of her and to make her drop her cup that she easily catches with just a thought. Floating it to the safety of her nearby table that also has a set of datapads on it and a disposable comn unit.

“Mom!” Anakin complains in cheerful giddiness as she hugs him close and blows a raspberry into his hair. He giggles trying to escape but she’s got a hold on him and yanks him up into her lap, kissing his forehead.

“How were your lessons today?” She asks softly, brushing his hair back, her fingers gently grazing the forming bruise along his temple. She feels her smile falter only for a moment before she focuses her thoughts on love and safety and home. Sending them along the frail bond between them.

It had been made as a mistake on her part. She’d never wanted to tie him to her or the darkness she carries with her. The darkness that is strength. But not the kind of strength she ever wants her son to need.

It’s why she’s been so afraid to make the bond any stronger than it already is.

Anakin frowns, going quiet as he tries to control his sudden bout of fidgeting. Then he replies with a little shrug, “It was fine…” He trails off, not looking her in the eyes.

“Anakin?” She encourages him quietly, letting him tuck his head under her chin as she wraps him in a tighter hug. “Nothing will hurt you here. Not while I’m here.” She reminds him with a soft hum.

“I don’t like it… They keep saying I’m going to guard the Emperor one day.” He fidgets again and whines in the familiar tone of a child being upset with being told what to do. “He’s so old! He's going to be dead by the time I’m old enough to be his guard!”

Shmi doesn’t laugh. Biting her lip as she tilts her head and muffles any sound that might come out into her son’s hair.

“Mom!” he complains, “I’m serious!”

She lifts her head and huffs, brushing his hair back again. “I know Anakin.”

He goes quiet again, looking down at his hands as he adds, “Also… he hurts you and makes you sad. I don’t want to protect him…”

She closes her eyes and presses a kiss into his hair.

“Everything will be alright.” She murmurs more to herself than her son.

#swrarepairs2023 #star wars #star wars prequels #shmi skywalker #mace windu #Shmi/Mace #fanfiction #my writing #sock-writes

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mickmilks · 7 months

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so the lovely nosho @creepkinginc sent me a post and mentioned how the middle picture reminded him of ian cutting trans mickey's hair and i simply had to write something!

He could feel it, tickling the nape of his neck. It had been a few months since his last haircut and he was beginning to take notice, and not in the best way. The itching felt like it was coming from underneath his skin, nagging at him constantly like a shirt tag that refuses to lay flat. He ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed that he could actually run his fingers through his hair. Mickey grabbed his phone, looking up the nearest barber shop, absolutely shocked at the prices for a haircut these days.

“Fuckin’... fuck!” he said, exasperated.

Mickey quickly tapped out a text to Ian.

sos need u to come over

Thankfully, Ian responded fairly quickly, letting Mickey know he’d be right over. Mickey couldn’t stop pacing, tugging at his hair as if it would magically get shorter if he did so. After about 15 minutes and a lot more pacing, he heard the front door creak open.

“Mickey? What’s wrong?” Ian called from the entryway.

“In here,” Mickey said from his bedroom.

Ian stepped through the doorway, taking in the sight of Mickey’s thoroughly rumpled hair.

“Hey, what’s going on? You okay?”

“This fuckin’... it’s too long.” Mickey once again tugged at his hair, eyes cast downwards.

“Hey, hey, c’mon,” Ian said softly, taking Mickey’s hand in his, gently tugging it away from his hair. “I can help, will you let me?”

Mickey nodded, letting Ian lead him into the bathroom.

“Do you have clippers?”

“Yeah, underneath the sink. Dunno if they still work, though.”

Ian offered a soft smile, and opened up the under-sink cabinet, pulling out the box that held the hair clippers and guides.

“Do you want me to buzz everything? Or just the sides?”

“Uh, just do everything, I guess.”

Ian nodded, snapping on the 1/2" guide to make sure it wasn’t a complete buzz.

“Here, lean your head over the sink so we don’t get hair everywhere, okay?”

Mickey complied, leaning over the sink and closing his eyes. Ian plugged in the clippers and flicked the power switch, the clippers buzzing to life. Carefully, Ian started to cut away the hair from Mickey’s nape up to the crown of his head, repeating the motion around the sides of his head, until he was happy he’d gotten everything that Mickey would be happy with.

“Hey, do you want me to cut the top of your hair too? Fiona showed me how, if you want,” Ian said, shutting off the clippers.

“Um, yeah, I guess,” Mickey replied, standing up straight.

“Sit down over here, it’ll give me a better angle,” Ian said, motioning to the closed toilet lid.

Mickey walked over and sat down, hands twisting in his lap. Ian rifled around in the medicine cabinet, somehow procuring a pair of small scissors.

“Alright, you ready?” Ian asked.

Mickey nodded in reply, closing his eyes. Ian gently grabbed a section of Mickey’s hair, trimming the ends. He repeated the process several times over, the snip a soothing sound to Mickey’s ears. Ian even took the time to trim around Mickey’s ears, making sure everything looked as clean as possible.

“Hey, I’m done, wanna go look?”

Mickey stood up, walking over to the bathroom mirror. Looking back at him was the reflection of Mickey, the boy he knew. Not the person he used to be. Mickey. In this moment he knew he had something special with Ian. Someone who would take time out of his day to make Mickey feel safe and comfortable, with no hesitation or judgment. Taking a deep inhale, Mickey turned to Ian and pressed a tight-lipped kiss to Ian’s lips.

“Thank you,” he muttered, hands fisted at his sides.

Ian just stood there with a wide smile, and after a split second of hesitation, set the scissors down and pulled Mickey into a tight hug.

“You don’t gotta worry about needing things from me, Mickey. Always gonna be here. Promise.”

Mickey smiled into Ian’s shoulders, the feeling of safety washing over him.

#my fic #trans mickey #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Note

Are you still accepting prompts?

If so, would you be able to do 20 from the smut prompts for Javier P? Pretty please 🙏🥺❤️?

you got a pedro slot darling!! 😇 full disclosure: I realized there are TWO smut prompt lists under that tag, both with a number 20, so I got creative and used both 😏 enjoy!!

🔥friday night fever!🔥

It was just supposed to be one beer.

One beer, some friendly conversation, and then you were going back to your own apartment across the hall, to your own bed. That was the plan. That was the intention you’d had when you’d agreed in the first place, physically unable to resist Javier Peña’s ridiculous charm (and ridiculously handsome face). “Just a neighbourly thing,” he’d said, sly grin on his face, leaning against the open door of your apartment. He’d saw you struggling with groceries, both of you walking into the building at the same time, and offered to help, carrying them up the stairs for you while you unlocked the door, setting them on your counter before retreating back into the hallway, clearly not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “Just one beer, and if you hate every second, we’ll never do it again.”

One beer. Hah.

One beer had turned into two had turned into a glass of whiskey had turned into two glasses of whiskey had turned into the two of you perched on his sofa, chain smoking cigarettes and spilling your dirtiest secrets. Nothing job-related, of course, on Javi’s part, but he did tell you one or two stories of his youth back home in Laredo that had you staring open-mouthed.

And then he kissed you.

Living across the hall from Javier has been torture enough, coupled with the high-pitched moans you’ve been subject to nearly every weekend. You know what he is, that his front door is more of a revolving one, that he clearly knows what he’s doing between the sheets, because the one time you stepped out just as he was saying good bye to a lady friend, she still looked red-faced and giggly, stumbling down the foyer steps on shaky knees. He’d winked at you before closing the door.

It’s been a few months now, and you’ve turned into…friends? You guess that’s the right word. He’s a man of mystery, to be sure, but you’ve seen multiple sides of him. Including the protective side, when he knocked on your door one night with a dark look in his eye and made you promise you’d stay inside, no matter what you heard. He’d knocked his knuckles under your chin as he said it, making you look into that dark gaze, and you’d wordlessly agreed, nodding your head in his grip.

“Thank you, querida.”

It’s unfair, honestly, how handsome he is. How he talks, sometimes slipping into Spanish when he greets you in the morning because he knows you speak the language. “Hola linda, como dormiste?” The way he just seems to take up more space than any other man you’ve ever encountered, blanketing you with this strange feeling of safety, but also a touch of danger, all at the same time.

And it’s definitely unfair how soft his mouth is.

“Is this okay?” he’d asked, your shared cigarette burnt down to the butt, discarded in the ashtray. He’d cupped your face in one large palm, thumb swiping over your cheek, down and over your lips. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

“Kiss me, Javi,” you’d nearly begged, sliding closer to him on the leather couch. “Please.”

So he did. He does. And you’re a goner.

You’ve never been kissed like this. It’s soft and harsh at the same time, the taste of cigarettes and whiskey heavy on his tongue, dipping into your mouth and leaving you breathless. He kisses like a romance novel, drawn out and passionate and making your whole body ache and instantly crave more, more, more. When one hand wanders down your front, sturdy fingers tracing the curve of your breast before squeezing enough to make you gasp, you toss your head back on the leather, feeling the scratch of his moustache and the just-barely-there scruff along his jaw.

“You know,” he murmurs into your throat, both hands moving to your waist, thumbs digging in enough to make you hope they’ll bruise, just enough to leave a reminder for you, to see tomorrow and realize that this actually happened, “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Oh?” you asked, barely able to form any words further than that, your hands wrapping around his biceps as he tilted you sideways, until your back was arched over the armrest of the couch. His lips graze the underside of your jaw, over your chin and back up to your mouth. He kisses you hungrily, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can sate him, and somehow, in your haze, it makes you feel bold. “I’ve been thinking about doing a lot more than kissing you.”

He pulls back, eyes blown with lust, and gives you a smug grin that has your thighs clenching tight. “Is that so?”

It was a rush after that. Buttons popping and shirts ripped over heads, clothing piling on the floor, discarded without care. You’ve unlocked something, unleashed a side of Javier Peña that you’ve only dreamed of up until this point. He nips at you, teeth closing around your skin anywhere he can reach, careful to leave the harsher marks in places you can cover.

When his hand slides between your legs, finding just how wet you are, he kisses the gasp right out of your mouth, fingers curling into you, making you grip his shoulders tight. “You want more, querida?”

There are no words now, just a choked moan as he manages to pick out every nerve inside you.

He lets you set the pace to a degree, watching your face for any hint of hesitation as he strips you — and then himself — completely bare, spreads you out on his couch and lowers his face to you.

You don’t last long, and it makes your mind run a marathon in an instant. He’s so good at this. How is he so good at this?

Javier licks you through your first orgasm, his touch turning soft and reverent as he sucks the taste of you from his fingers. You waste no time after that, pushing his shoulders back and climbing into his lap, taking his hard cock in hand, lining him up and sinking down in one fell swoop.

“Fuck, querida,” he groans out, hands finding homes on your hips as you start to move, digging your fingers into the back of his couch, your eyes fluttering as you take him as deep as you can. He’s thick, deliciously so, and it stretches you out in the best way, your first orgasm on his fingers helping you some, leaving behind just enough to make you ache as you take him. “I love the way you look when I’m inside you.”

Something in his tone, in the way he says the words, the way he’s raking his gaze up and down you, but locking his eyes with yours as he speaks, it makes you ache in a different kind of way. Emotion creeps up your spine all of a sudden, and you can feel your body flush, something akin to anxiety making your shoulders tense as you keep moving your hips.

You should have warned him, that whiskey makes you babble.

“What are we doing, Javi?” you groan out, body stuttering as the very tip of him nudges that spot inside you, a zap of electricity surging through your body.

His brow pinches, but an easy smile stays glued to his mouth, surging up to kiss you surprisingly gently. “We’re having sex, querida,” he drawls, almost chuckling. “That’s what people tend to do when they’re attracted to each other.”

“Yeah,” you near-whisper, mouth dropping when he cants his hips up into you, hitting that spot again, “but what are we doing? Like what does this mean? I know you have your pick of women around here, and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but I don’t want to be just another notch in your bedpo—”

You don’t get to finish the sentence. Javier takes over, wrapping an arm around your waist and turning you sideways, laying you out against the armrest again. It changes the angle, not as deep as riding him was, but he makes up for it with a harsh thrust that has stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“You’re more than just a fling, querida,” he tells you, mouth fitting into the curve of your throat again. “I plan on doing this again,” another thrust, “and again,” a nip to your throat, “and again.”

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

javier peña tags: @iamskyereads @ancientbeing10 @saintmurd0ck @woomen23 @plutoneu @pedropascalsx @allfoolsinluv @maddiewinchester @winchestershiresauce @minxsblog @bluestuesday @i-simp-much @trickstersp8 @kirsteng42 @lovesbiggerthanpride @beskarprincessjenny @loonymagizoologist @mashomasho @greeneyedblondie44 @tanzthompson @fiscinthirst @mswarriorbabe80 @vickytogisa @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @thevoiceinyourheadx @alyona-romanova @littlemisspascal @mrssarahpaulsooonn @theorganasolo @arson-tm @simplyjaana @maggotzombie @boliv-jenta @m00nkn1ghts @iccedays @detectivecarisi-1 @hoodedbirdie @Grotzu @paintlavillered @wakala_djarin

#friday night fever #javier peña #javier peña fic #javi peña #narcos #narcos fic #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #my fics #javi p #javier peña fluff #pedro pascal #javier peña smut

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buckybarnesss · 7 months

Text

tagged by @dear-massacre

i am primarily a non-fiction girlie. i like reading about historical things. you could say i have a niche. can you guess what it is?

102 minutes that changed america by jim dwyer and kevin flynn. i consider this a must read about 9/11. it's an engaging read and i promise you will come out of it infuriated about new york real estate codes but also it humanizes the event. there were real heroes that day. the history channel also did a documentary of the same name.

the invention of murder: how the victorians revelled in death and detection and created modern crime by judith fanders. this one of not for the faint of heart. it's a beast of a book. but it's incredibly interesting and full of information. we've always been weird freaks.

stiff: the curious lives of human cadavers by mary roach. i will not lie i got this book due to a sterek fanfic and i did not regret it. if you ever wanted to know how cadavers have contributed to science and human safety this is the book to read.

this republic of suffering: death and the american civil war by drew gilpin faust. this is one of my incredibly niche interests. the american civil war fundamentally changed the american relationship with death (and religion) which is fascinating. men died far away from home and americans had to learn to cope with mass death.

working stiff: two years, 262 bodies, and the making of a medical examiner by judy melinek and t.j mitchell. dr judy melinek started working as a pathologist for new york city two months before 9/11 and a few other big events. i found this super compelling.

plague (black death & pestilence in europe) by william g. naphy and andrew spicer. i just want y'all to know i was reading this book in feburary 2020 (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞. it's also super informative. who doesn't like reading about the black death and societal changes because of it?

assassination vacation by sarah vowell. i discovered this book due to the incredibles dvd giving sarah vowell a spotlight on it. she is the voice of violet parr and an essayist. i recommend any book by her and she was a semi-frequent guest on the daily show during jon stewart's tenure. by this one? it's about presidential assassinations -- a favorite topic of mine.

how to fight presidents: defending yourself against the badasses who ran this country by daniel o'brien. this is written by cracked alumn and now writer for the late late show daniel o'brien. he liked my tweet about it. pour one out for him not only having to read about mallard filmore but he also was spoken to by the secret service and not allowed to include any living presidents (at the time) in the book.

the witches: suspicion, betrayal, and hysteria in 1692 salem by stacy schiff. a really in depth look at the salem witch trials that i considered quite the page turner. i consider it a god forbid woman do anything tale. her book on cleopatra was also riveting.

tagging @janiedean @jamiesugah @jack-whiskey-daniels @sarcasticassian @frostysfrenzy

#my blog #meme #i am probably on a watch list somewhere

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

To Build A Home (Extra Scene)

The old man and his wife

Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader

Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook

Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut/ implied smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU

Summary: it's such a small world. (Takes place at the start of part 10)

Word count: 2.8k

Tags/ warnings: implied child labour, angsty, nothing too bad??

Notes: this was cut out of the final chapter because it was getting too long but this makes a nice extra scene. i guess this means the series is officially over :(( i dont know how likely it is i'll continue to write drabbles for the series either since my inspiration is low but alas the journey has been fun.

my full masterlist

this series' masterlist

+++

The house was quiet, unusual for a Saturday afternoon, but your home has seemed to have dulled down since the incidence of a few months ago. You felt guilty, that those who resided in this household with you felt as though they had to constantly walk on eggshells. You never intended for this to happen. You never intended for the ones you loved to have to endure the feeling of being silent because there was an underlying rule written that making noise wasn’t okay. You never intended for them to feel like you had while locked up in that dingy old cell.

These days you never knew when Jimin was in the kitchen anymore, no pots and pans knocking into one another because of the cat’s carefree nature. Hoseok’s boisterous laughter didn’t echo down the halls, and Namjoon had finally plugged his headphones into the computer so there was no deep bass penetrating through the walls. Jin didn’t sing in the shower anymore, Jungkook kept the television on mute and Taehyung practiced with his instruments in the summer house rather than his bedroom.

You’d always thought you’d like the quiet. Always wondered what it would be like to live in a home that was constantly at peace. But now, you don’t think you like it very much at all.

You felt on edge, jumping out of your skin whenever a noise was made.

The silence was unsettling as you moped around the office, pulling open drawers, and rummaging through old photo albums. A habit you’d picked up since you’d gotten home from the hospital. And although you’d never admit it, you had started to compare your life to the times that seemed better. Times where you were happier.

It’s when you pull open a drawer—a small business card catching your eye—you decide that maybe it was time to stop wallowing in self-hatred, face a fear, and for the first time in months leave the house.

Of course, that was easier said than done.

Asking Jin to drive you was easy, he seemed a little surprised when you had asked him but agreed, nonetheless. The hardest part of this whole plan was actually leaving the house and pursuing your goal. The thought of what lived beyond the wooden door of your home scared you. A pitch-black abyss of unknown dangers that could reach out and latch onto your very being the moment you step foot outside the safety of your home.

What if people stared at you? It wouldn’t be the first time. What if people recognised you from that article and thought it was funny that a hybrid deserved equal rights?

Sure, you were one tail down since the last time you’d left the house. But eight and nub of a tail somehow looked worse than the full nine. The ninth one wiggling around like a small puppy’s tail rather than the elegant sway it used to have. The fur on the tip not showing any signs of growing back either.

And insecurities are awful things, your own brain nit-picking each and every flaw you believe your body to have. Insecurities are ugly thoughts that plague and pick at your mind until you can’t stand the sight of yourself in the mirror, a little shadow following you around as it whispers how awful of a human you are, and why people could never like a thing like you.

And so, as each day passed, a cross added to the calendar, slowly inching closer and closer to the little star you’d drawn to remind yourself about your new endeavour, you’d started to regret asking to leave the safety of your home. But before you knew it, the wretched day had come. And you wonder why you ever thought this was a good idea in the first place.

You don’t tell Jin you feel moments away from vomiting, he’d gotten his car dry cleaned and you doubted he wanted your breakfast coating the clean seats in acidic bile that was sure to seep into the fabric and infest the air with the putrid smell of regurgitated eggs and bacon.

When you arrive, waving Jin off when he offered to come inside with you, you take a moment to just stand outside the restaurant. The glare of the sun makes it hard to see through the window, but you can hear the chatter of people even with the door closed.

…

You notice a few of the hybrids from the basement—who had joined the old three eared dog hybrid in working at the half-hybrid, half-human restaurant—turn towards the door each time it opens; ears on high alert.

“Told you I would treat you to something nicer than porridge” the old man chuckles as a waitress places a few plates of lunch onto the table.

You marvel at the cutely cut sandwiches, smiling to yourself as you admire how pretty they all looked, laid out on fine china plates that had delicately been painted with blossom trees and equally as beautiful flowers, that even you didn’t know the name of. You wonder if Namjoon would know.

“Thank you” you reply, feeling somewhat at ease. Enough that you didn’t feel the remanence of what you’d eaten within the last 24 hours clawing up your throat.

“I didn’t think you’d gotten my letter; it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other” he hums, pushing a plate towards you.

“Sorry, I’ve been—” you pause, wetting your lips as you try to find an appropriate word, “busy” you settle with.

It’s when you make eye contact with the three-eared dog hybrid, you can see a question lingering on the tip of his tongue. You wait a moment, wondering if he’ll ask.

He doesn’t. Instead talking about his time working at the restaurant; how he enjoyed talking with customers and how he had learnt how to cook a plethora of meals. Inviting you to stop by more often so he can get you to try everything. Fussing over how much weight you’d lost since the last time you’d seen each other.

You find yourself feeling oddly nostalgic, and you wondered if it was because the old man felt so familiar; you suppose the few days you’d spent together weren’t under the best circumstances, but you appreciated his company, nevertheless.

“My wife would be proud, she always wanted me to cook for her” he brings you out of your little reverie; a serene look gracing his old features.

“Wife? I thought hybrid-hybrid marriage was illegal?” you ask, nibbling on the edge of a sandwich.

“Wife in name then. Neither of us believed we needed a legal document to define our relationship” he explains, and you nod, heart feeling warm at the lovesick look in his eyes. You could tell just from him mentioning her, how much she must mean to him.

“Have you seen your wife since we got out?”

You watch a sad smile tug at his thin lips, leathery old skin showing his prominent wrinkles at the action.

“No, life had different plans for us. She was sent to a hybrid facility long over a decade ago while I was dragged to the basement where you and I met”

You swallow thickly at that, your own experience at one of the facilities growing up—before you’d met Jin and your owner, enough for you to know how his wife was probably treated.

“This is her” he pushes a small locket towards you.

Ever so carefully you pick up the delicate piece of metal. You feel your eyes brim with tears as you take in her smile, her arms wrapped so tightly around her husband’s torso.

They looked younger in the photo, and the dog-hybrid had the same look of adoration in his eyes as he looked down at her, her own hybrid ears a little disfigured. And you can only assume that was why she had been sent to live in a facility as they became more widespread over a decade ago when you were nothing more than an egg growing steadily in your mother’s womb.

“I know her” you whisper, your finger tracing her face, “she used to take care of me when I was in the facility as a child. She um… she’s the one that helped me escape” you look up at him, pearly tears slipping down the slopes of your cheeks as you take in the watery look the old man gives you. Eyes glazing with tears.

“She’s free, I don’t know where she went but she escaped that day with me” you tell him, watching as he brings a hand to run over his face. “I can try and find someone who might know where she is, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to see you”

The old man felt so familiar because the kind old woman that used to oversee your group in the facility as a child would tell you stories of her partner; and you couldn’t help but give him a wet smile as you piece together just how much they must have loved each other; that even after years apart they still spoke about the other like they were falling in love all over again.

The old man pushes himself from his seat, kneeling in front of you as he takes your hands in his own.

“Thank you” he whispers.

The two of you spoke after that, catching up on the months you’d spent a part.

Your afternoon spent with the old dog hybrid had made you realise that everyone healed in their own ways. That healing wasn’t quick, that you could spend the rest of your life trying to piece together what once was. But you’d learnt that while picking up the old pieces, you could pick up new pieces of yourself. Weave the new parts of you into the old, and progress from the worn and torn version of you that had been hurting for so long.

So many of the hybrids from the basement were on edge as they worked, always looking at the door when it opened. Veering away from any humans that entered the building, but they all woke up every morning and helped the guy that owned the place. Some more confident in their lives than others, but they were all healing just like you; all at their own pace.

The old man was healing from losing the love of his life, years spent apart with no way of knowing if they’d wandered from the living world to a better place where they could finally rest in peace without the fear of what a new day may bring them.

Jin was healing just like you, the wound of losing your owner still mending itself each day. Your new family helping him pick up the pieces that he had lost; something that you hadn’t been able to do alone, because you could only hold onto so many broken pieces of Jin before they would spill from your hands. But Namjoon and Yoongi helped, the rest there as well to hold the both of you up as you ventured on your journeys through life.

As promised, that evening you rummaged through your old owner’s office; you were sure that he had kept files on where the other escaped hybrids had wandered off to after the facility had been shut down after a protest. He kept them just in case any of the hybrids were to ever need his help. He always had such a big heart.

So, when Hoseok had gone to work the following week, you’d asked him to hand the beige envelope to the old man. And that evening Hoseok had explained the three dog-eared hybrid planned to venture into the countryside to find his wife, as she had gone to live on a farm with other free hybrids.

And with that news, you felt a little part of yourself sew itself back together, shoulders a little lighter and head a little clearer. A bounce in your step as you flopped on top of Jungkook who was lounging in his bedroom.

He smiled down at you, noticing the change in your usual demeanour.

“Something good happen?” he asks, fingers carding through your hair.

You hum, “Something like that”

And Jungkook decided not to pry, happy that you seemed to be feeling better than you had over the last few months.

So, he leaves a plush kiss on your lips before he asks if you wanted to have a go at a new game, that he’d bought at some point during the week.

+++

{Y/n aged 4}

You remember being startled awake, pruned fingers gently pushing the hair from your face as a soft voice encourages you to get some warmer clothes on.

In the silver light of moon that slithers past the cracks of the open window, you manage to make out the kind face of the older woman that had been assigned to your tent. She’d been taking care of you since you were born, she’d told you that herself.

She told you of the outside world, one you would have never known about if it weren’t for the stories, she would tell you and your friends before tucking all of you into bed.

10 children huddled under a few blankets as the harsh winter continued to test your limits, a way to see who could survive the longest with numbing toes and hours of labour that no child should be able to endure.

You stumble along with your friend as the older woman ushers both of you through the small opening of the tent, teeth chattering as the wind caresses each of your rosy cheeks.

It couldn’t have been that late into the evening, maybe around supper time as none of the facility workers seemed to be milling around but your small group were still kicking stones in the courtyard.

“Ma, where are going?” you manage to ask as the old hybrid takes a hold of you hand, dragging you and another boy over the gravel.

“An adventure” she turns to smile down at you, “Through here”

You stare warily at the hole in the wire fence, “Mama, we’re not allowed over there” the boy calls up the old woman.

“Just for today we can, hurry!” she encourages the two of you to crawl through the hole; ignoring the ear-splitting alarm that had started to ring.

Memories are fickle things, replaying like an old tape, corrupted in a way that there isn’t the full story and a scene changes before you can comprehend that part of the story line.

What you remember most vividly about that night, is the same old woman telling you to live everyday like it may be your last. Because to live without passion isn’t really living much at all.

You remember her encouraging you to carefully slide down the hill, highway empty as you stand beside the concrete. Young mind aware that the shouts of the men you’d come to hate and blaring siren meant nothing good if you were to ever be caught outside of the fence.

You remember looking back up at the shrubbery that the old woman and one of your friends hid in as a car pulled up beside you, lanky looking old man hopping down from where he’d been driving. The old hybrid waves you on encouraging you to take the man’s help as he tries to ask you questions. Calling his own young hybrid to try and help you as you look between them confused.

And you remember the pretty looking auburn fox helping you into the back of the car, wrapping you in soft sweater that smelt like flowers, your hands a little shaky from the adrenaline more than the cold.

And even to this day, you remember the last words that kind old woman had told you. The one who had told you your tails were precious, that just because you and herself weren’t perfect, it didn’t deface either of your values.

“One day our paths will cross, and until that day comes live the life you children both deserve”

+++

You stare at the old farmhouse, young hybrids that had almost as many tails as your own running across the grass, all happy as they tackle each other to the ground.

And when your gaze flits towards the front doors to the quaint home, they’re both stood there.

The old man and his wife, finally reunited after years of being apart. The old woman looked the same, hair a little greyer and eyes a lot wiser, but she held herself all the same; encouraging you to come and have tea out on the deck as you catch up on all the lost years.

“I always knew our paths would lead us to one another” she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her embrace just as warm as you remembered it to be.

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year

Text

Lost and Found- Chapter 5

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you can just read this one and know what’s going on)

Warnings: profanity, smut, NSFW (you’ve been warned)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @muchadoaboutcj @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @residentdormouse @starryeyes2000 @asirensrage @munstysmind @themaradaniels @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity

My tag list is OPEN. Please just ask to be added if you want :D

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/113863714

THREE MONTHS LATER

“You sure you don’t want to tag along?” Tyler asks, as he emerges from the bathroom; scrubbing aggressively at his hair with the towel slung around his neck. “There’s bound to be something at the new place you can tackle.”

“As much as I’d love to go and get a jump on plotting out my gardens, I really need to stay behind. We move in a week! Seven days! And I feel like I’ve barely put a dent in the packing. Like…” Settling her hands on her hips, Esme blows her bangs out of her eyes and stares down the mess of cardboard boxes littering the shack. “...it’s only been ten months! Since we moved in together. How did two people who came into this relationship with nothing end up with so much…stuff?”

They’d stumbled upon the place online during a late-night search when sleeplessness had gotten the better of them. A small, two bedroom, plus den starter home on a half acre of land in Broome; freshly painted slate gray clapboard with crisp white trim around the windows and mustard yellow front and garage doors. A spacious backyard in dire need of landscaping; spacious enough for a couple of gardens, a small pond, and a section that could eventually be used as a play area for children. The inside proudly boasting some of its original woodwork and charm; crown moulding decorating every ceiling and wainscotting taking up residence on the living room and dining room walls. A quaint, comfortable place that still needed a few essential updates; a new roof, central air, and some minor foundation work.

When approached about a cash advance needed for a healthy downpayment, Nik had graciously offered the money- no strings attached- instead. Declaring it was what Tyler was rightfully owed; Mahajan had short-changed them in Dhaka after all, and Tyler had more than earned the full sum of his fees. And perhaps she’d been spurred on by lingering guilt of her own; haunted by the choice to leave him and Esme behind on the bridge and the decision to not return for them. It had been her own brother that had gone against her ruling; deciding on his own -after retrieving Ovi and ensuring his safety- that he was going back for them. Even if it meant losing his own life in the process.

“I’m not being blamed for it.” Tyler tosses the damp towel in the direction that takes up residence on the couch. “ You’re the one that owns twenty pairs of Uggs and only wears the same two all the time.”

“They’re my favourites,” she reasons, and tosses a roll of packing tape in his direction. “And I refuse to take criticism from a man that owns nearly thirty pairs of board shorts, yet lives nowhere near the water.”

“Hey, we’re in Australia. Board shorts are perfectly acceptable everyday attire. And besides…” Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he presses a kiss to the side of her head. . “...in a week, we’ll be a lot closer to the beach. All those board shorts will come in handy.”

“Guess I’m going to step up my game, huh? Get a few new bathing suits. Cute. But sexy at the same time.”

“Only if I get to come along on this shopping spree. You know, so I can get invited into the dressing room.”

She casts a scowl over her shoulder.

“So I can put my two cents in, Esme. Get your mind out of the gutter. What is it with you? Sex, sex, sex. That’s all you think about.”

“Pot meet kettle! You’re like a perpetually horny teenager! I can’t even bend over to scrub the bathtub without giving you a woody. That is not normal. Not at your age.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t bend over to scrub the bathtub in just one of my t-shirts…”

“Your t-shirts are huge on me. They cover everything. Like wearing a dress.”

“They WOULD be huge on you. If you didn’t tie them in a knot around your waist. And then you’ve got the nerve to walk around here like that. With your bare ass hanging out.”

“I like to clean in minimal attire. If things are really dirty, I don’t want all these extra clothes getting grubby.”

“Yeah… sure…” Playfully tugging on her ponytail, he plants a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Likely story. We both know you’re full of shit. That you do it just to get me riled up.”

“I will neither admit nor deny that claim. I can’t help it that you’ve got hair-trigger hormones. That you just have to get the tiniest peek of a butt cheek and you’re ready to go. Hell, half the time, even a stiff breeze in the room is enough to awaken the beast.”

“The beast, huh?” Grinning, he rubs the scruff of his beard against her cheek; his hold on her tightening when she squeals and squirms against him. Meeting no resistance when he slips a hand up the front of her tank top; feeling her entire body shudder when calloused fingertips glide across her stomach. “You realize calling him names doesn’t upset him, yeah? That all it does is feed his ego?”

“His ego or yours?”

“Well, it IS a confidence boost when your dick is called ‘the beast’.”

“Would you rather I call it Mini Tyler? Tiny Tyler? Baby…OW!” She jabs her elbow into his stomach when he pinches one of her nipples. “Fucker! That hurt!”

“Normally you can take more than that. Much more. Normally you’re ASKING for it.”

“They’re sore,” she pouts. “I swear I’m stuck in some endless loop of PMS. It’s been five weeks! Headaches and crazy mood swings and night sweats and now my poor boobs! But nothing. Absolutely nothing. It still hasn’t come. No period in sight.”

“Maybe…” His palm slides down to her stomach. “....the test you took was wrong.”

“I took three of them. Two were quite clearly negative, one was on the fence. More a ‘no’ than a ‘yes’. And you heard what the doctor said. It’s likely stress. Anxiety. We’re taking a big step. Owning a house…together… is huge. We’re starting a whole new life. I’d worry if it didn’t cause some kind of emotional upset.”

“Maybe just take one more. Can’t hurt, right?”

“It’s only going to say the same thing, Tyler. There is no baby Rake on board. Not yet, anyway. And it’s not like we’re trying. We’re not planning on being parents, right? Not this soon. It would have had to have been an ‘ooops’. I mean, we’ve been careful.”

“There’s been a few times we weren’t as careful as we could have been. But things happen, yeah?” Affectionately patting her stomach, he heads for the kitchen and snags a clean mug from the drainboard by the sink. Pouring himself a cup of coffee before leaning back against the stove. “It’s not like it would be a horrible thing. If we had an ‘oops’.”

“Can we even afford an ‘oops’?”

“We’re not exactly poor. I’ll be going back to work soon. Bringing in a somewhat steady income. And I’ve got that interview with the fire department next month. If that goes well and I pass all the physical stuff…”

“You shouldn’t have a problem there. Doctor says you’re ‘good to go’. In better shape than you were before Dhaka. Even with your wonky lung. It’s kinda hot, you know.”

“My wonky lung?”

“You as a firefighter. Women love men in uniform. The thought of you in all that gear and all hot and sweaty? It paints a very nice picture in my mind. And does funny things to my insides. Fireman Tyler. You’re going to have to bring all your stuff home and do a strip tease for me. Really get the blood flowing in my nether regions.”

“I have to go to all that work? Whatever happened to just looking at you a certain way? That much has changed in just eight months?”

Rolling her eyes, Esme folds down the flaps on the cardboard box in front of her; frowning as she pats down the pockets of her jeans and fails to find the marker she’d been previously using.

“You’re losing it,” he teases, and snags the object in question off the kitchen table. “You put it there. Ten minutes ago.”

“My brain is mush!” she laments, and catches the marker as it’s tossed toward her. “And you’re not helping by walking around like that.”

“Like….”

“Like that!” She waves a hand in his direction; gesturing toward his lack of attire; his long, athletic frame clad in nothing but a pair of faded and tattered jeans that sit -still unbuttoned- extremely low on his hips. The hair at his temples and the nape of his neck still damp from his shower; a mixture of both sweat and water droplets glistening on smooth tanned skin. “All buff and beautiful and hot and shit.”

Grinning, he takes a swallow of coffee. “And you say I get worked up easily.”

Sighing, she hastily scribbles both contents, and what room they belong in on the cardboard box. “My hormones are totally out of control. More so than usual. Which is another reason it’s better if I stay behind. You’ll get your shit done, I’ll get my shit done. We spend the weekend in the same house? No one is getting a damn thing accomplished.”

“So pretty much like every other weekend we spend together. Or weekday, for that matter.”

“Well if you weren’t so hot…”

“Maybe you should have hooked up with someone uglier.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have seduced me,” she counters, and playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

“Still playing that game, huh? Are you still going to be lying about that when we’re in our eighties and the great-grandkids are asking how we met?”

“Who are you trying to kid? By the time we reach that age, neither of us will remember that shit.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not the one whose brain is already mush.”

With a dramatic grunt, she sets the box on the floor by the couch and then grabs her empty tea mug from the coffee table and joins him in the kitchen. Filling and plugging in the kettle before journeying towards him. “You’re a shithead, you know that?”

“I do. But like you always say, I’m YOUR shithead.”

“Yeah, I supposed I’ve laid my claim to you. And momma didn’t raise a quitter so…” Standing in front of him, she places her hands on his hips; concern furrowing her brow as she looks up at him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just hanging out, saying dumb shit to see what kind of reaction I can get from ya. You’re predictable. It’s like taking candy from a baby.”

“You just seem a little…I don’t know…off. You haven’t really been yourself the last couple of days. You’ve been quiet and…”

“I’m ALWAYS quiet.”

“More than usual. And you’ve just seemed kind of…I don’t know…disconnected. Is everything alright? Are you feeling okay? I know you’ve been sleeping a lot better, but I can’t exactly read minds so I don’t know what’s going on in yours and…”

“I’m fine. I feel good. Better than I have in a long time. Why are you…?”

“Is it us? Is there something not quite right? Did I say something wrong? DO something wrong? Did I…?”

“There’s nothing wrong. Not with me, not with us. Everything is fine. Believe me, I’d tell you if it wasn’t. If there was something wrong, you’d be the first to know. Why are you being so paranoid?”

“Hello? Have we met? It’s who I am. It’s what I specialize in. Paranoia.”

He knows it’s much more than that; yet another side effect from the years she’d spent with Mark. The constant walking on eggshells; plagued by the worry of doing or saying something wrong that would incur his wrath. And while she knows he’s nothing like that and would never, ever, raise a hand to her, the fear still very much lives very much inside of her.

If her trauma has taught him anything, it’s the true meaning of love and acceptance and patience. The abuse that she’d been put through filling him with the need to prove that not all men are the same; ready, willing, and able to be in the leg work that will not only help her heal, but strengthen the bond that already exists between them. And he’s determined to right the wrongs of another man; wanting nothing more than to erase those bad memories with happy and beautiful ones of their own.

“Esme…” Laying his hands on her shoulders, he gives them a light, reassuring squeeze. “... there is nothing wrong. Things are good. Things are VERY good. I’ve just got a lot of shit going on in my head. And none of it’s bad, I promise.”

“Things like…”

“Like how much I’m looking forward to getting this part of our lives over and done with. Starting fresh. This is the REAL start to things. To a life together. Guess I’m just anxious to get it going. I’m excited. Maybe even a little spooked.”

“There’s some pretty big changes happening all at once. We bought a house, I’m going back to school in the New Year, you’re totally changing careers…”

“Not totally. I’m still gonna catch jobs here and there from Nik And this firefighter gig isn’t a sure thing. If I don’t pass the intake interview and the physical stuff…”

“You’ll pass. With flying colours. And then I’ll be able to brag about my hot ass firefighter boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I imagine it’s not easy to brag about a hot ass MERCENARY boyfriend.”

“For your information, I happily brag about you regardless of your line of work.”

“I know for a fact you don’t tell people I’m a hired killer. And I don’t blame you. That’s not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to mum.”

“Eventually the whole truth will come out. It’s going to have to at some point. It’s getting harder and harder to lie to them; they’re starting to ask more and more questions and I’m starting to have a rough time keeping my stories straight.”

“Well, maybe when we go there in the new year, we’ll tell them how things really went down. IF that’s what you want to do.”

“It’s a hard thing to bring up, you know? It’s not like I was truthful about the work I was doing in New York City. They don’t know what kind of world I was caught up in. I had convinced them that I was in business. Handling difficult clients from all parts of the globe. When they find out what I was doing and how we really met…”

“Is it really going to matter? How they react? It’s not like you’re tight with them. And we don’t live close by; they can’t just show up on our doorstep and cause all kinds of shit. We tell them and however they take it? That’s on them. Not on us.”

“I just want to go there and drop the bomb and that’s it. And I want to tell them about the house and us starting a new life here. I just want them to get their thick heads that I am NOT coming back. That’s not my home anymore. It hasn’t been in a long time.”

“They’ll deal, Esme. They’re all adults. If they can’t handle what you’re doing with your life and who you’re doing it with, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

Sighing, she curls both arms around his waist and settles her head against his chest. “You’re always so wise and diplomatic.”

“I don’t know about that.” Rubbing affectionately at her shoulders, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then wraps both arms around her tiny frame; hands locking together at the middle of her back. “What I do know is that if they start their shit, I’m squaring up. Your mother so as much looks at you in the wrong way…”

“My knight in slightly tarnished armour,” she gushes, and reaches down to squeeze his butt. “If anything, Christmas dinner will be very interesting this year. Just promise me that if you get the urge to throw someone through a table, it’ll be after dessert. Because if I don’t get at least one slice of nonna’s pecan pie…”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Party pooper.” Her eyes close as she leans her entire body against his; enjoying the familiar scent and the warmth of soft, tanned skin, and the way a calloused palm repeatedly moves in circles against her back.

“I should stay home. Move things to next weekend. I don’t like the idea of you being all alone, out in the middle of nowhere, when you’re feeling this rough.”

She glances up at him, pouting dramatically. “I’m not feeling rough. I’m feeling needy.”

“Good enough reason to stick around, if you ask me. It’s not that big of a deal; putting things off for another few days. Won’t hurt to stay home and wait on you hand and foot until you’re better.”

“The only thing that will make me feel better is getting everything done. Once all the packaging is finished and the house is totally move-in ready and we actually get in there? I’ll be back to normal in no time. It’s stress. I’m just anxious to close this chapter and start on a new one. That’s all.”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“I’ll tell you what. IF I’m still feeling out of sorts after we move, I’ll take another test. As many as you want me to. But I am telling you, it’s NOT what you think. I am NOT pregnant. I know my body, Tyler. I know how screwed up things get when I’m anxious or stressed. This isn’t the first time this has happened; skipping periods and feeling like shit.”

“I still think I should stay home. Just to be on the safe side. The thought of being a few hours away while you’re here by yourself…”

“You’re just being paranoid. I’ll be fine. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. And besides, I won’t be totally alone. Lucy’s here. She’s great company. And a pretty damn good snuggler. In a pinch.”

“I just don’t feel right. Leaving you here. By yourself. If something happens…”

“Tyler…” She squeezes his hips. “...we talked about this. With the therapist. The first time you went away with Koen. For that fishing weekend. When you were practically making yourself sick with worry. You started getting nauseous and dizzy and panicky…”

“ It’s not like we’re living someplace where help is right around the corner. Or even half an hour away. If I’m not here and something goes wrong…”

“I know you worry about me. And you know that I appreciate it and love that about you; the fact you want to keep me safe and sound. But remember what we talked about? At counselling? About how sometimes you go a little overboard? Get a little overbearing?”

“This isn’t the PTSD. I’m not in the middle of a flare-up. Or whatever the hell the doctor likes to call it. I just got a bad feeling. That I can’t shake. If there’s one thing I’ve always been able to rely on, it’s my gut. And my gut is telling me that something is NOT right.”

“I think you’re just nervous. There’s so much going on. We bought a house and we’re getting ready to move soon, you’ve got your intake interview and your physical coming up for the fire department. Not to mention you’ve got this whole baby thing stuck in your brain. You’ve got a lot going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“If you’re going to fight me about staying home, then at least come to Broome. So I can keep an eye on you. Just in case.”

“In case of what? Babe, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s just the stress and being anxious to get things finished. I’m just a little battle of nerves. Mostly good ones. Excited ones. There is nothing for you to be worried about, I promise.”

He nods slowly, considering her words. Fully aware of his propensity to be overprotective and suffocating; driven by a powerful need to protect her against anyone and anything. Even in Dhaka, he’d been prepared to sacrifice his safety—his life—for hers; a woman who’d wandered unexpectedly into his life and immediately made a huge impact upon it. Months later, that desire to keep her safe and sound still exists; more powerful and consuming than ever. And it HAS been talked about in therapy; twice monthly sessions together at a trauma counsellor in Broome. His experience in Bangladesh coupled with his second chance at life and love…REAL LOVE…causing his worry and paranoia to constantly simmer.

Perhaps she’s right. Maybe his concerns over leaving her alone are nothing more than a byproduct of his trauma. His near death experience and the scar on his neck both serving as constant reminders of how close they’d come to never getting a chance to take things further than that dirty hotel room.

“You’ll call me? If anything goes wrong? Or if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary?”

“Of course I will. But what’s going to go wrong? I’ve been alone here before. For a couple of days at a time. This is just one day extra. I’ve got a lot to keep me busy, you’re leaving me the truck I need to get into town or just want to leave the house. I’ll be fine, Tae. You have nothing to worry about.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Tae?”

“Well, you came up with a really cute nickname for me and turn around IS fair play. What? You don’t like it? It’s stupid?”

“Not stupid at all. It’s just…I don’t know…different. It's the first time…in a hell of a long time….that anyone’s called me anything but my full name.”

“Your ex never used sappy terms of endearment for you? You were never ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ or anything like that?”

“You’re the first to ever utter those words.”

“Now that’s just not right. It’s all part of being a couple. Part of being in love. Indulging in cute shit like that.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the ‘cute’ type.”

“Oh please, I know you’re Mister Big, Bad, Mercenary Man, but you have your moments. Where you’re damn cute.”

Smirking, he pushes a hand through her hair; long, dark tresses slipping through his fingers. “You know, if that secret ever gets out…”

“Don’t worry. It’s safe with me. I’ll take it to the grave. So you’re okay? Me calling you that? Tae? I was going to go with Ty, but…”

“That would not have been a good move.” His father called him that. Mostly to mock him while he cried over the death of his mother and how much he missed her. Sometimes even while he was beating him senseless before locking him in the shed for days on end as punishment; left with nothing more than cardboard to sleep and a bucket to piss and shit in.

“So Tae it is. And it suits you. It’s cute but it’s got a bit of an edge and…”

“A BIT of an edge, huh? Man the insults are just rolling out today.”

Rolling her eyes, she smiles up at him. “I’m going to be okay. While you’re gone.”

“I know. I just worry. I can’t help it. It’s just who I am. Just the thought of leaving you here…out in the middle of nowhere….”

“As much as I love you for always protecting me, I can take care of myself. And it’ll give us both a chance to get shit done. Sooner all of this is taken care of? Sooner we can start on our new life. And it’s going to be amazing.”

Cradling her face in his palms, he leans down to kiss her.. Long and languid; the slow movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “You know…” Leaning back against the countertop, his hands find her hips and pull her into him “...I was thinking. About this whole you going to nursing school thing.”

“What about it? You changed your mind? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“You kidding? I think it's a great idea. You’ll make an amazing nurse. What I was thinking about is how you’ll be wearing those scrubs all the time whenever you’re not home. So maybe….” His hands slip from her hips and down onto her ass; palming it gently before tightly squeezing. “...I should get you something to wear behind closed doors. You know, some kind of sexy little nurse’s outfit.”

“So that’s why you were so agreeable when it came to me going back to school,” she chides. “Why you were so excited I picked nursing. You’ve got some freaky little fetish.”

“I didn’t say that. Did I say that?”

“ Admit it, you’ve got a thing for pretty little nurses. You love the idea of them waiting on you hand and foot, poking and prodding at you, giving you sponge baths.”

“No. I love the idea of you being a pretty little nurse and doing all of that for me. Especially the sponge baths.”

“Yeah, I seem to recall those being quite popular. Weird how you never enjoyed getting them from the nurses or PSWs in the hospital. How you didn’t even want them touching you. How it always had to be me.”

“That’s because your sponge baths were the best. You were really good at giving them.”

She arches a brow.

“And because yours usually came with ‘extras’. And happy endings. Very happy endings.”

Scowling, she attempts to wriggle out of his embrace; laughing when his hands clamp down on her ass and pull her even tighter against him. “You’re a pig.”

“Maybe. But you enable me, so what does that say about you?”

“That I have sketchy taste in men?” She lets loose a squeal when he pinches her butt. “If I’m totally honest, it is because I have absolutely no self-control. Not when it comes to tall, ripped, tatted up Australian men.”

“That is a much better answer.”

He kisses her once more and she eagerly responds; their lips and tongues hungry and forceful despite the activities that had kept them busy and in bed for the better part of the morning. A beautiful mixture of desperate and aggressive sex and attentive and languid lovemaking; a testament to the intense sexual attraction that has always existed between them and she hoped always would. And she shivers when calloused fingertips glide across the small of her back; his large, strong hands disappearing under her shirt and sliding up her sides.

She giggles when he pulls out of the kiss and his teeth nip at her bottom lip, then tries to step away when his fingertips brush against the underside of one her breasts. “Alright…enough. There is no time for that.”

“There is always time for that.”

“Keon will be here soon! You’re not even dressed. You’re barely HALF dressed!”

“Why put on clothes when I was just planning on taking them off again?”

“I knew it. You had planned to seduce from the second you got out of the shower.”

“Way before that.” (Hands on her hips as he pushes her backwards across the kitchen, meeting no resistance) “Before I even stepped in the shower.”

“You really are a six foot three, two hundred pound ball of walking hormones.”

“I know that’s not a complaint coming out of your mouth. And it definitely wasn’t complaints coming out of you earlier.”

“Far from complaining.” Her ass collides with the edge of the table, and she laughs when uses an arm to sweep everything off the top. A mixture of old newspapers and magazines and dirty breakfast dishes all tumbling to the floor. “Eager, are we?”

“Like you said, Koen will be showing up.” Effortlessly hoisting her up onto the table, he kisses her; his mouth devouring her own as he uses his body weight to push her down onto her back. “Better to get things started sooner than later, yeah?”

“What if he gets here while we’re in the middle of things? He won’t think twice about just walking in. What if he sees me? In all my naked glory?”

“Who says you’re going to be totally naked?”

“You are so fucking dirty, you know that.”

“In all the ways you like the best, baby.”

Aggressively pushing her legs apart, he stands between them; lifting the bottom of her shirt and pushing down the waist of her pants to reveal a bare stretch of skin. Lowering his head, he presses soft, moist kisses just above her pubic bone; slowly travelling from hip to hip. Her entire body shuddering when the tip of his tongue traces a circle around her navel; her hands burrowing in his hair when he pulls the piercing between his teeth. Her back arching off the table when he laps at the intent of her belly button; gasping loudly when he pulls back to blow a stream of cool, steady air on the moistened area.

“We’re really taking a risk,” she muses, lifting her hips off the table in order to aid him in removing her pants; his lips feasting on every inch of bare skin he uncovers.

“That’s what makes it so fucking hot. Or, hotter than usual.”

“Is it possible to even get any hotter?” she chides, as he yanks her pants down her legs and tosses them onto the nearest chair. “ I think our sex life is already pretty damn hot. And extremely healthy.”

“I’d normally say you can’t improve on greatness. But we can try, yeah?”

“I guess there’s always some room for improvement. But…fuck….” Her eyes flutter closed as he sucks and nibbles at the inside of one thigh. “....you and that mouth.”

“If it’s not the accent coming out of it, it’s what it can do.”

“Mix the two together and I practically self-combust. Jesus…” She bites down on her bottom lip as his teeth nip at some of her flesh.

“Not even he can help you now.”

“Speaking of that mouth…” Reaching down, she aggressively yanks at his hair. “...you’re running it an awful lot for someone working on borrowed time.”

“No foreplay?”

She shakes.

“That’s a first.”

“Sometimes a girl just wants to get railed. Fuck everyone else. Sometimes you just gotta get right to it. So let’s go. Pitter-patter, let’s get at ‘er.”

Smirking, he stands and hurriedly drops his jeans, impatiently kicking them aside. “Baby, you really know to set the mood,”

“What would you rather I say? Bust out something from a cheesy smut novel? Something from one of those granny favourite bodice ripper books? About your big cock and wanting it in my love tunnel and…”

The remaining words are cut off when he grabs hold of her hips and flips her onto her stomach; fingers biting into the flesh as he pulls her towards him. Not giving her a chance to react as he pushes inside of her; groaning when he buries himself to the hilt. And she whimpers when he pulls out completely and then slams back in; the brutality of the thrust causing her to cry out and her nails to claw at the tabletop.

It’s hard and fast from there on out. His thrusts punishing as one hand tightly grips her hair and keeps her head pressed against the table; the other slipping between her and the wood in order to find her clit. Rubbing vigorously at the sensitive, aching nub until he feels her tighten around him; screaming his name as her orgasm hits strong and fast. The clenching of those inner muscles sending him hurtling towards the edge;eyes closing, chin dropping to his chest, and fingers biting into the flesh of her hip as he cums deep inside of her. Waiting until their trembling bodies settle before pulling out and stepping away; pressing kisses across the small of her back before running his palms over the curves of her hips and ass. And he bends down to pull up his jeans; the denim at the back of his knees when he hears the telltale creak of the shack’s loose floorboards, followed by Koen’s deep voice.

“Jesus Christ! My eyes! My fucking eyes!”

Esme gives a startled, embarrassed shriek and reaches over the edge of the table; frantically searching for her pants.

Smirking Tyler continues pulling up his jeans; turning to his friend as he buttons and zips them). “We used to piss standing beside each other in Afghanistan. You’ve seen my bare ass before.”

“And I wish I never had! No one needs to see that! At least not sober! Of all the times to walk in, why couldn’t have been her bare ass hanging out?”

“Because I’d have to kill you, that’s why. Turn around, you drongo. So the lady can get dressed. There’s nothing here for you to see.”

“Why didn’t you knock?!” Esme accepts Tyler’s hand as he helps her off the table, then snatches her pants out of his hand.

Koen gestures towards the exit. “The door was wide open!”

“ We live in the middle of nowhere,” she reminds him. “We always leave the door open!”

“That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem!”

“You must have heard what was going on! We weren’t exactly being quiet! Why didn’t you just wait on the porch? Or text us and tell us you were out there?!”

“I wasn’t expecting the two of you to be going at it! I didn’t think I’d wander in and get greeted by his bare ass! I’m traumatized. I’m going to have nightmares! You’re going to have to pay for my therapy!”

“Like seeing Tyler’s ass is the most horrible thing in the world. He happens to have a very nice ass. You should consider yourself lucky. Blessed, even. You’re privileged to see it in its natural state.”

“You’re disturbing!” Koen tugs at her ponytail as she leaves the kitchen; straightening her pants and smoothing down the front of her t-shirt as she goes. “You know what would make me feel better? What would make everything right in the world again? If you dropped your pants and showed me your ass.”

“You wish! In your wildest and wettest!”

“I won’t lie, I’ve had a couple of those.” He shoots her a flirty wink, then chuckles and jumps out of the way when Tyler scowls and attempts to slap him upside the head. “Wait a minute…wait a minute…hold on a second…” Snatching her by the neck of her t-shirt, he pulls her into him and then slings an arm across her slender shoulders. “I need to ask you a very serious question. One that’s been keeping me at night. For quite a while.”

“And that would be?”

“Why the hell does such a pretty, sweet thing like you hang around with the likes of this guy? What has the world come to? A cute little Sheila willingly putting up with a drongo like him?”

“It’s simple. He knows how to find the clit. Each and every time. Even that first night.”

“So do I!”

“Unfortunately, I guess I’ll never know if you’re telling the truth or not. I’ll never be able to find out firsthand.”

“I mean, if you want to find out, I’m game. I’m sure the big man wouldn’t mind if I stepped in just once.”

“Actually…” Snagging a belt that’s draped across the back of the couch, Tyler slips it through the loops of his jeans. “...the big man DOES mind. He minds very much.”

“He never learned the golden rule,” Esme chides. “That sharing is caring.”

“I’ll share my food and my money. My girl? Off limits.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Koen grumbles. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do. In some warped and twisted brotherly kind of way. But her? I love her more.”

“He loves me,” Esme singsongs as she wanders towards the sleeping area; grabbing the t-shirt he’d laid out earlier off the top of the dresser. “He thinks I’m pretty. He wants to kiss me. He wants to put his babies in me. Grow old and grey and miserable with me.”

Smirking, Tyler catches the garment she tosses in his direction. “Don’t push it, Munchkin.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she addresses Koen, as she smacks a palm against Tyler’s ass. “It’s all true. He does think I’m pretty. He does like kissing me. And he most certainly wants to put his babies in me. He has a breeding kink.”

Koen grimaces. “There are some things I do not need to know. And that’s at the top of the list! What is wrong with you two?! Always smiling at one another, touching each other, making out and shit. One day I’m going to find you out front and I’m going to have to turn the hose on you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Esme scoffs, then steps back as the two men begin gathering the necessities for the four days in Broome; various sizes of tool kits and duffle bags and two of the extra pillows from the bed.

She follows as they leave the shack; the wood of the front porch and then the sand blazing hot against the bottom of her bare feet. It remains a struggle; getting used to the suffocating heat of the summer months. Still underestimating the power of the sun’s rays; dehydrating quickly and routinely burning herself on the metal of her seat belt Yet not once has she missed the cooler temperatures that growing up in Colorado had provided her with; the fresh, crisp breezes that would roll in from the snow-capped mountains. It had stopped being home a long time ago; her father’s death in her late teens robbing her of a safe and secure life under the watchful eye of someone who loved her.

And though her time in New York City had been wonderful and she’d once vowed to make it her forever home, she doesn’t find herself reminiscing about those days. The old Esme dying on the bridge in Bangladesh that day ten months ago; replaced by someone much more confident and courageous who hadn’t thought twice about making a brand new life for herself. Far away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and even further removed from her family. Somehow -in the midst of chaos, danger and fear- finding that companionship and love that others had always waxed poetic about. Yet she questioned the true validity of.

“You’re sure you don’t want to tag along?” Tyler asks, as he drops the last of the duffle bags in the bed of Koen’s pickup truck and turns to face her. “Still time to change your mind.”

“I think it’s better if I stay behind. Just go balls to the wall and put a real dent in the packing. Maybe even get it done. THAT would be nice.”

“Don’t kill yourself trying to finish up. We’ve still got a few days once I get back. No sense making yourself feel worse trying to look like Superwoman.”

“That’s Wonderwoman to you,” she chides, and flexes her biceps.

“I was thinking more Mighty Mouse, but okay…”

“Jerk,” Esme grumbles, and playfully swats at his chest. “Always with the short people jokes.”

“Everything I say, I say with love.” Smoothing wayward strands of hair away from her face, he cradles her cheeks in his palms. “You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be just fine. I’ve got lots to keep me busy. And Lucy to keep me company. Try not to worry too much, okay?”

“Isn’t that what I usually say to you?”

“Usually. I’ll be alright, Tyler. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I was doing it long before you came along. Although I have to admit, I’m glad you did. Come around.”

“Things didn’t turn out so bad, huh? I think we’ve done pretty good.”

Smiling, she affectionately pats his butt. “We’ve done very good. You guys drive safe.”

“I’ll call when I get there.”

When he presses a long, soft, slow kiss to her lips and pulls her into a hug, she melts into the embrace; her eyes closing as her arms circle his waist, and her cheek rests against his chest. And she holds on for longer than usual; hands gripping the back of his t-shirt as she relishes the feeling of hard muscle and the warmth that radiates from his body and his familiar scent. Smiling when his lips meet her temple and he whispers: “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Be good. I don’t want to have to come and bail you out of jail.”

“My drunken bar brawl days are long behind me.” Running a fingertip down her nose, he lightly taps the tip. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

She reaches for his hand when he steps away; briefly squeezing before their fingers glide along each other and eventually lose all contact. And she steps back and offers a wave as he slides into the passenger seat; her arms crossing over her chest as she stands in the dirt, watching them pull away.

*****

He’s been gone for three days and she’s been miserable the entire time; feeling empty and lonely despite the mountains of work that she submerses herself in. Filling the void by randomly texting throughout the day; keeping each other updated on the progress at both houses, and then always speaking before settling down for the night. And it hasn’t been an easy adjustment for either of them; sleeping in separate beds and being under separate roofs when they’ve been practically inseparable for ten months.

Things at the new house are going smoothly; the two men busying themselves with laying down the new flooring, painting the kitchen and master bedroom, and expanding the front porch and the back deck. Even plotting out areas for her to turn into gardens in the rear yard; Esme determined to nurture her ‘green thumb’ by growing various fruits and vegetables and brightening the landscape with colourful flowers.

After their morning ‘check-in’ with one other, she takes Lucy into town with her. The border collie happily riding alongside of her in the passenger seat of Tyler’s old beat truck, then treated to breakfast at the only restaurant in town. Esme spoiling the dog with her own plate of bacon and scrapes from her breakfast; routinely dropping pieces of toast and eggs onto the concrete floor of the patio. Afterwards, they pick up more plastic tote boxes and cleaning supplies and then wander the small downtown core; gazing through shop windows and pausing for each child that requests to give Lucy a ‘pat and a cuddle’.

It feels good to return home; still plagued by the health issues that have been nagging at her for weeks. Random bouts of nausea and persistent headaches; near crippling fatigue accompanied by horrible cramps, but no actual period. Instead of returning to work, she elects to nap instead; slipping into one of Tyler’s hoodies and a pair of warm, comfy sweats before curling up with Lucy in the middle of the bed.

She’s disoriented when she wakes; her limbs feeling impossibly heavy and her head swimming as she makes herself a cup of tea before tackling more of the packing. And she stands at the kitchen sink and looks out into the backyard; repeatedly dipping a tea bag into a mug of boiling water as her eyes survey the land. The parched earth and the withered bushes, the barren trees and the range of mountains that loom in the distance. While not a picturesque view by any stretch of the imagination it had still become familiar and welcoming; the sights and the sounds that accompanied not only the beginning of their life together, but the modest and simple home they’d manage to create together. Not much by society standards; a little shack that had seen better days. But it had been under that rusted tin roof that they’d truly come to know and understand and know one another. And grow together.

It’s when she goes to turn away from the window that she hears it; the crunching of tires upon dirt and gravel. And her movement stills as she listens; feeling the hair on her arms and the nape of her neck pricking at the sound of a car door slamming. And she reaches for the handle on the drawer closest to the sink when she hears footfalls -light and rhythmical- on the front porch; Lucy lifting her head from her afternoon meal and letting loose a low, concerned growl. Visitors are extremely uncommon in the middle of the outback and usually a cause for concern; there are no other houses for miles, and no mail and package delivery to the door. And no one in their circle of friends and colleagues would ever show up unannounced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice from the doorway commands attention. And respect. Calm and collected. Dripping with the confidence that comes with power; the ability to control every person and every situation without even so much as a flicker or fear.

“Believe me when I say it isn’t in your best interest to react badly to my visit. It won’t end well. It never does. For anyone.”

Fingertips brush against the handle of the loaded Glock kept for safety in the drawer, Esme bites back a defeated sigh as she slides it closed and turns to face her company. Tall and slender and dressed inappropriately for the sweltering Australian weather; a sleek, black pantsuit and silk blouse covered by a charcoal gray trench coat; balanced upon their shoulders like a cape. Their dark hair cropped close to their scalp and a tattoo -done in cursive- decorating the left side of their neck; expression emotionless as chestnut eyes scan the humble accommodations.

“Esme Drummond. It wasn’t easy. Finding you. One of the harder challenges I’ve faced. When you ran away, you certainly ran as far as you possibly could.”

She fights to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Nervousness. Fear. Forcing herself to remain calm, cool and collected; recalling those days she’d come face to face with evil and had lived to tell about it. “I never ran away. I had no reason to. I was spared. Given a second chance. And I took it. This is just where it led me to.”

“A second chance you didn’t earn or deserve. A grand injustice occurred. And I’m here to fix it. I’m an adjudicator. Sent by the High Table. I…”

“I know who you are.”

“Then I assume you know why I’m here.”

“I was cut loose. Excommunicated. I haven’t been back to The Continental, I haven’t done any work for anyone associated with them. I’ve kept my distance. Like I was told to. I found other employment. I never…”

“I’m not here because of something you did or didn’t do. I’m here because you never deserved the second chance you were given.”

“I went before the High Table. I defended my case. I had people speak on my behalf. John Wick and Winston…”

“Never should have been allowed their time before the High Table in the first place. It was an erroneous decision. Allowing them to come to your defence. Many others have broken High Table rules and have paid the price. They weren’t given the same treatment you were. It is a stain on the High Table. One they are desperate to wipe out.”

“It’s been three years. Why…?”

“We had a lot of seats open up. Meaning we have many new members. Powerful ones. Who aren’t as understanding or forgiving as their predecessors. And with new faces comes new business.”

“And that has to do with me because…?

“One of the first orders of business was to review prior decisions. Regarding those who had broken High Table rules. People who had been given reprieve instead of punishment. And your file just happened to be on the list. Although to be honest, you likely would have continued to fly under the radar. Had you not resurfaced…quite spectacularly…in Dhaka.”

Esme frowns) “Dhaka? What does Dhaka have to do with this? What…?”

“Word gets around. Especially in our circle. The defeat of someone like Amir Asif is something to be praised. Celebrated, even. And it wasn’t exactly subdued was it? The way everything went down. It certainly was an attention grabber.”

“Admittedly, things didn’t go exactly as planned. They got a little…messy.”

“To say the least. You practically shot up and burned the entire city down.”

“To be fair, I had help. And I didn’t really do the dirty work.”

“That’s right. You had a partner. An accomplice. Someone watching over you. Keeping you safe. That means you were, what? Aiding and abetting? You can take the girl out of the criminal underworld but you can’t…”

“Do we really have to take a trip down memory lane? It’s not exactly my favourite thing to relive. Dhaka isn’t going to be on any highlight reel of mine.”

“It really wasn’t ALL bad, was it? Those stories have been passed around as well. About you and the mercenary. You were never known as someone who mixed business with pleasure. All part of ‘turning over a new leaf’, I presume? Unless…”

Her eyes narrow. “Unless WHAT?”

“Unless it was part of the game. Maybe you knew latching onto him would be the only way you’d get out of there alive. You had to find a way to guarantee safe passage out of Dhaka, so you decided to do whatever it took. Even if it meant keeping his body AND his bed warm. It’s clever. You’re even more devious than I originally thought. I admire it.”

“That’s not what happened. Not even close.”

“I highly doubt that your behaviour was genuine. That it was love at first sight. You knew the danger you were going into and you knew you had to do whatever it took to secure your survival. Isn’t that what you do? Con people? Have them believe everything you say is true? For your own benefit?”

“It’s what I DID,” she stresses. “I’m not in that life anymore. I gave it up. Back on that bridge. I left the old Esme behind. I’m not her anymore.”

“So you’re admitting it. You used him. Fooled him. In the same way you did so many others.”

“What happened between Tyler and I was real. Everything I felt, everything I said, everything I did, was genuine. There was no pretending. No lying. No manipulating. It was all real. And I don’t care what you or anyone thinks.”

“You do realize that Dhaka was a mess for many reasons, don’t you? You killed one of ours. Someone that was in very good standing with the High Table. Who had made allegiances with the likes of Amir Asi in order to benefit everyone involved. And things were going so smoothly until you showed up there. And stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.”

It suddenly makes so much sense. Nik’s reluctance to call Gaspar; arguing with Tyler that it wasn’t a good idea that they call his old friend and colleague for help. “Gaspar was in the circle? I thought he retired. Walked away from the game. I thought…”

“He walked away from the private sector. Got into something more lucrative. And then you came along and put a few bullets into him. You just can’t keep out of trouble when it comes to us, can you?”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“So the mercenary did.”

“I never said that.”

“Well considering there were only two of you capable of pulling off such a feat….” The adjudicator’s eyes widen; a smirk tugging at their lips. “Unless it was the boy.”

“What happened that night has no bearing on what’s going on right now. I’m not telling you a thing. Not about what went down at Gaspar’s house. Not about Dhaka in general. I know what happened. WHY it happened. In the same way I know that everything that I felt for Tyler…everything we talked about and experienced together…was real. You can’t take that away from me. No matter how hard you try. No one can.”

“While Gaspar’s untimely and bloody demise may not play a direct part in why I’m here, it holds relevance. You were there when it happened, you did nothing to stop it, and you refuse to say who was directly responsible. Therefore, it adds to the reasons you should be punished. And you will be. Punished.”

“And you came all the way here to tell me this? It couldn’t have been handled through a phone call? An email even?”

Their face hardens. Eyes darkening. “Believe me when I tell you that when it comes to this matter, snark is not in your best interest.”

“And what is? What are my options?”

“You have none. At least none that will save you from your punishment. You have forty-eight hours. To get your affairs in order. I highly suggest you use that time wisely. If you fail to check in to The Continental in New York City by noon Monday, I will return. And I won’t be alone. If you run, we will follow. There is no place you can hide where we won’t find you. Am I making myself clear?”

“And if I don’t show up? In New York City?”

“You will be physically escorted there. Or you will be handled right where you stand.”

“Eliminated, you mean.”

“Along with anyone that dares to help you. If anyone gets in our way, they will be handled as well. So if you know what’s good for you and for HIM, I suggest you tell the mercenary that he stands down. If he even tries to challenge us or stop us, we will ensure his ending is as horrific as possible. And I’m sure that’s the last thing you want. You have the blood of many men on your hands. I’m certain you don’t want to add his to it.”

“You’re right. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Forty-eight hours,” The Adjudicator stresses. “Don’t be foolish enough to think we won’t follow through. That if you don’t comply, we won’t come back here. I suggest you get your affairs in order. And do exactly as you're told.”

“If I show up, I want a guarantee. That nothing will happen to Tyler. If I do as I’m told, you have to promise me that nothing will happen to him. He doesn’t deserve it; to suffer because of my mistakes. He’s a good person. A good MAN. And he doesn’t need to pay the price for something I did.”

“I underestimated you. Perhaps you weren’t just doing a job. There’s something in your eyes. In your voice. When you talk about him. And I can tell you’re scared; terrified of the thought of something happening to him. Love? Is that what it is?”

Esme nods. “Do we have a deal? That if I turn myself in, he’ll be left alone?”

“I will handle that end of things when I report to the High Table. But you have my word; you show up, he remains safe. But if he even tries to defend you or get in our way…”

“He won’t. He won’t be an issue. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Fair enough.” The Adjudicator turns on their heel and strides across the kitchen. “Forty-eight hours. Or we WILL come for you.”

“Is that a threat or a warning?”

They pause in the doorway. “Neither. It’s a promise.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC

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alwaysthesitter · 2 years

Text

IMPORTANT PSA.

Honestly I'm going to keep this short and sweet. And I know I'm going to lose followers and preparing myself.

I was another Steve blog a few months back. I'm sure many of you have been witness to the toxic cancel culture that runs rampant in the ST RPC and I fell victim to it. Completely horrendous things were spread about me and taken out of context, and the part that made me most sad was that most people didn't check in to get my side of the story. As happens in these toxic cancel cultures, we see something bad and believe it as it spreads like wildfire. If you want to know my url, I'm sure you could guess, but seriously feel free to DM me. I mostly don't want to post it on here to not clutter the tag.

I almost didn't come back. I got severe threats. I fell into a horrible mental state. And so I ran. I decided to come back with a new name and a new brand and let me tell you, I've had the time of my absolute life. Being back here has been exactly what I needed.

But I've also been paranoid. Because I know people still think those things about me. Even though now they've actually talked to me and seen that I'm a good and fun person. I told someone last night whom I dearly love, and they felt betrayed and hurt that I wasn't up front.

I've been trying to remain under wraps for my safety and protection. And, like most of you, because I'm just here to write. I'm not here for drama and rumors and putting others down. I'm such a firm believer in giving everyone a chance. I'm here for Steve, and giving Steve the justice the Duffers stole from him.

All that being said, I'm not going anywhere this time. Like Eddie, "I'm not running away." I'm keeping my account, no matter what happens, because I have put so much love into my interpretation of Steve Harrington.

I say all this because I'm tired of hiding and being on edge of "someone finding out." I'm still going by Strode, that was a change I wanted regardless. Literally nothing will change other than that this is out there. And that if you choose to unfollow me, I understand. And I still love you. And every interaction I have been blessed to have with you.

I'll be turning off anon for the moment for obvious reasons. And for those who continue to write with me and allow me to give Steve the love he deserves- thank you.

#[ooc*]#ready to watch my follower count go down #but im tired man #and i have faith enough in this community to think things will have changed

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cafeinthemoon · 2 years

Text

More Myself Than I Am - Chapter IV

Chapter 4/?

Wordcount 3,9k

Title Dead Alley

Fandom Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing Ryuunosuke Akutagawa X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warning (s): mentions of abusive speech and behavior toward women, violence and injuries

Tagging @lasidollily @darling-imobsessed (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

N. A.: So we're back with the longest chapter of the story until this moment, or so I guess! I hope you don't mind 😭 In this one we finally see the secrets surfacing, followed by some action and a shocking conclusion (or not...)

About Arthur's name and ability: truth is that instead of naming him after an author, I chose to make a reference to a character. Arthur Huntingdon is Helen Graham's abusive husband in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, written by Anne Brontë. The character's most prominent traits are alcoholism and infidelity, as well as a manipulative side. Though I didn't explain how my character's powers work nor gave them a name, I established that he might have the ability of producing heat while evaporating the alcohol he consumes, causing injuries on his adversaries. Don't ask me how exactly it works, because I have no idea (I just wanted to come up with something that fits him lol)

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you’ve spent so much time in front of the mirror, whether to make sure your appearance was decent or to admire the fact that you could really look good with just a few changes.

First, you finally had an opportunity to wear that delicate, white dress you bought last summer but never found a place or an event worthy of it; as far as you could tell, that was the last time you got a clothing just for the sake of its beauty instead of its practical aspects, and you’ve already regretted your decision to spend money on it by now, so that finally putting it out of your wardrobe was a way to make amends with it.

Second, you’ve been wearing your hair tied up for months, whether at work or out of it, so you almost forgot how your locks looked like while covering your ears, spreading around your shoulders; fortunately, your curls still looked good when you adjusted them with your fingers, and it was even better when you tied them at the left with that hairpin you found at the marketplace, a few days after moving to your current address.

Makeup was a bit more complicated: you were never sure of when it was enough or when you were exaggerating, so you wouldn’t wear it on a daily basis. However, when you did it, Virginia used to say that you looked good with Frances’ style, since you had similar skin and hair tones. Mistakes weren’t allowed that specific time, so you decided to follow your sister’s advice.

One last adjustment in your dress and you were ready. Now, you just had to call Akutagawa and wait for him at the building’s entry...

You just grabbed your phone when you noticed the sound of the front door being opened, followed by a rushed conversation between two voices, both well known by you: Virginia and Arthur.

What are they doing here at this hour?

You felt a bit irritated by their presence: you clearly remembered the rule you and your sisters established to ourselves when you moved to this apartment, that you would never allow any man inside if there was just one of you at home. That was for your own safety, since it was your first time living in a big city and you would work in whole time jobs, thus having to spend long periods away from each other. The thing is that you didn’t tell your sisters you would be there by that time of the day because your plan was to go back home by the same hour you used to arrive everyday, so that Virginia was probably thinking the apartment was empty. Still, she was there with Arthur, disrespecting a rule that was her idea in the first place, then accepted by you and Frances.

You put your phone on your pocket (your dress had one at each side of its skirt) and went to the corridor that led to the living room, where they were still standing, but before you could reveal yourself and demand an explanation, you decided you should hear their conversation first: thinking before acting was always the best.

And God knows if what could have happened in case of an imprudence from you was worse than what indeed followed.

Arthur’s voice was a harsh whisper.

– How long do you think you can maintain this situation, Virginia? You already know what you have to do, so there’s no excuses!

– It’s not that I don’t know the gravity of the situation, Arthur! I do! Better than you can imagine – Virginia was saying, annoyed – But I’m tired of your pressure! I just asked you for some time to arrange everything, but you’re not respecting my request! Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think it’s going to be easy for the girls? You have no idea of how complicated things are!

– Yes, everything is complicated because you’re too soft!

Those words, said in a tone that you never expected to hear coming out from your brother-in-law’s mouth, infuriated Virginia as you’ve only seen in rare times, and the response she gave him sounded accordingly.

– You might take it for foolishness, but it’s the best thing I can offer to my family after everything we’ve been through! I am the eldest of three sisters, and I’m not doing anything that can harm Frances and Y/n, not for money! Not even for you!

For money? For Arthur? What were they talking about? What kind of deal they established between themselves while letting you and Frances out? Probably not one that would please you, since they had to meet in secret to discuss it. To be honest, the tone of conversation made you think of some dubious, illegal scheme. Well, that didn’t sound like Virginia... Which led you to think that it was something brought up by Arthur, and for some reason she felt obligated to agree. But what in heaven would Arthur propose to your sister that would cause such discomfort?

Before you could think of anything, you noticed a change in his speech: speaking in a lower, menacing tone, he revealed something that might certainly had Virginia’s body trembling in shock as much as your own, though you weren’t seeing her.

– Dear Frances and little Y/n… It’s good to hear you speaking about them, especially Y/n, my love, for I know that the delay in your decision is precisely because of her.

Virginia gasped so loud that you heard it like she was by your side.

– W-what do you mean…?

Arthur didn’t seem affected by such reaction, not hesitating in clarify his point.

– Virginia-chan… I know about Y/n. I know what she is. What she can do. I’ve always knew, even before I started dating you.

You had to cover your mouth with both hands to suffocate a scream and keep your presence in secret. So... Arthur Huntingdon was not who he claimed to be: the cheerful, polite young man who would take your sisters to nice places and make plans for the future with Virginia wasn’t but a farce for an individual who wouldn’t mind keeping secrets from you and using them to make his requests – threats – more convincing when he thought it was necessary.

When Virginia spoke again, you almost didn’t recognize her voice, so terrified it sounded.

– Arthur… What are you talking about?

He gasped, not hiding the irony in his voice.

– Just stop, girl. That won’t protect her. Not from me. Not from us.

– Arthur, you’re scaring me – her high pitch was unnerving – What do you really want with my sister?!

You heard an aggressive sound, as if Arthur just grabbed Virginia’s wrist or arm and started shaking it, trying not to lay a hand on her, which would be followed by a scream that could be heard outside the apartment if it wasn’t promptly suffocated by a large, strong hand.

You couldn’t stay quiet and wait for that man to do what he wanted with your sister. Ignoring your own shock and frustration, you stepped into the living room, to their surprise and your own, for you not only became an eyewitness of Arthur’s true intentions, but also found out he had more in common with you than you supposed.

He was holding Virginia’s wrist, and from the contact between their skins a sort of vapor or smoke was coming out: that was what made the girl scream and try to get rid of his grip. He only released her when he saw you, letting out a frustrated “tsc”; Virginia ran to the opposite side of the room and crouched beside the chair where she used to knit, covering the spot on her wrist that was being held: that was when you figured out the origin of those marks you noticed some days ago.

So, Arthur had a special ability… but you didn’t mind questioning how it worked.

Your voice was so low that it surprised even yourself.

– What do you think you’re doing to my sister?

The defiance in his look was shaken for a second when he realized he was caught, but it didn’t entirely disappear. He opened his arms and his largest grin to show that, the smoke still coming out from his palms.

– Nothing. I was just trying to convince her to do what’s best for her special sister.

You didn’t reply to that. Taking this as an invitation to keep speaking, Arthur explained:

– Y/n-chan, me and some friends of mine know you’re an esper. Actually, we found out about this even before approaching you and your family. Since most of us have special abilities too, we’re aware that you chose the worst place to live, as you’ll soon find out if you stay here. Your powers aren’t documented by the official agencies, neither you are trained, which might become a problem in case you meet the wrong people. And this is our place in this: we can offer all you need, with the simple condition that you come with us.

You might have made an incredibly disgusted face, for Arthur showed what seemed a genuine feeling of outrage towards it.

– I’ve been trying to talk about this to Virginia, who promised to bring the subject to you, but she hasn’t moved a finger until this day. Which is a shame – he shrugged, glancing at her – I don’t understand her. She always brags about how she cares about her siblings, yet she cannot do this simple favor for you...

Your guts churned with the audacity of that man’s words. It wasn’t enough for him to mistreat the woman he claimed to love; he also expected that you would accept such offer after what you heard and saw.

The pressure inside your eyes raised alongside with the bitter sensation in your stomach. You sensed the objects around you trembling upon their surfaces, your conscience reaching each of them, touching everything until finally finding Arthur; the confusion you sensed in his energetic signature, his rushed breathing, his accelerated heartbeats, the contortions on his face, his urge to leave the place to save himself – nothing escaped you.

Whatever Arthur expected your abilities to be like, the reality was scarier than any predictions he could have made. And he was probably wondering if he was going to be able to deal with it.

– You hurt and threat my sister inside our home and expect me to believe you have any good intentions towards me? – you inclined you head to the side and raised your hand toward him – Who the hell you think you are?

He swallowed and took a step behind, but didn’t have time to do anything more than this: he forced his body to move, but it wouldn’t obey him, as if an invisible, gigantic hand would keep him in place; he opened his mouth but no scream left it. One movement of your hand and Arthur was thrown toward the ceiling, his back collapsing with it.

You took a step forward, to look into the terrified man’s eyes above you.

– As long as I’m here, you’ll never land a hand on Virginia again.

With a scream, you moved your hand down, and he followed the gesture, falling on his stomach, the resulting noise disgusting even you.

You lowered your hand, trembling, as the pressure in your eyes started to diminish. Your breath, rushed with fear and anger, went from panting to a calm rhythm as you stared at Arthur’s body lying in the middle of the room, no sign of life even from a muscle. Your eyes passed around the place until they stopped on Virginia, who was still on the same position, speechless, thick tears rolling through her face. She looked inside your eyes… and fainted.

You didn’t know how the same thing didn’t happen to you. There you were, standing inside your house, with a static body in front of you, and a sister in shock, having witnessed the rage of your ability for the second time in her life, with a terrifying difference – now, you managed to take someone’s life, and did it on purpose, out of the desperation of seeing your beloved sibling in danger.

The sound of the door opening behind you took you out of that numbness, but did not wake you up from that nightmare.

A bag fell on the floor, and a scream came right after. It was Frances’ voice. She passed by you and stopped in front of Arthur, but didn’t kneel beside him, neither she tried to touch his body. She glanced at the spot where Virginia was lying and finally looked at you. Her eyes were wide, still not believing in the scene from which she just became a part.

It took a countless time until she found herself able to speak.

– What did you do… Y/n...?

The first thing you thought was that Frances supposed you did something to both Virginia and Arthur, since she found the two unconscious. Realizing this was strangely rational from your part, which released your tongue and gave you the chance to immediately clarify the situation.

– Virginia just passed out! – you pointed at the man, then to the ceiling, where a crack appeared on the spot touched by his body – They were arguing when I arrived, and Arthur tried to hurt her and I defended her! She saw everything! She’s going to tell you once she wakes up!

Frances, as far as you could remember, has always been the most practical of you three. She didn’t question your words or show desperation. Instead, she looked at the two, then at the ceiling, shaking her head in an affirmative gesture.

– Y/n… Go.

The confusion must have been clear on your face, for she repeated the command in a vigorous tone.

– Go! Hurry up! Find a place to hide! – she pointed at the apartment’s front door – I’ll take care of everything here!

You swallowed, but didn’t try to argue. In the past, on that day when Virginia’s life changed, Frances was the one who had the nerve to run to the house and call for help. Now, she was showing the same presence of mind. There was no time to think; only to act. And if you lingered there, things would get complicated for all of you.

You nodded to your sister, then turned to the door, passing by it in seconds.

***

You ran for what seemed to be thirty of forty minutes, or long enough to arrive at the farthest spot of the district one could reach on their feet.

You entered a dead alley and leaned your back on the concrete wall, trembling, your eyes almost blind by the tears, your hair disheveled except where it was tied by your hairpin, your feet hurting inside the shoes.

It’s happening again… But this time is worse...So much worse...

You looked down at your skirt’s pocket, suddenly remembering you had your phone with you. You took it and needed twice the usual time to turn it on with your shaking hands, but when you did, you called the latest number of your list.

It didn’t take too long until he answered.

– Y/n-san?

You took a deep breath of relief when you heard his voice.

– A-Akutagawa-kun… Hi… I’m calling you to say that… I won’t be able to go with you to the tea house…

– Why? What happened? – and before you could formulate an answer, – Are you alright? You sound nervous.

You weren’t able to hide your state when you first spoke to him, so that you didn’t mind letting all your desperation show now. Your throat tightened, but you did your best to speak while you could.

– Something happened at home – you sobbed – I had to ran away... I don’t even know how to explain this… I’m sorry…

You covered your mouth and started crying again. Fortunately for you, he was as composed as Frances, and managed to lead the conversation.

– Y/n-san, listen. If you’re not able to tell me what happened on the phone call, then don’t try it. Just tell me your current location and wait for me there.

You sighed and gave him what was requested.

– Please, help me…

– I will. I’m on my way.

The call was ended and you put the phone back on your pocket. You crouched on a hidden spot, wiping out the tears and praying for his arrival...

Sadly, that was the only thing you had time to do.

You heard steps coming from the alley’s entry. You stood up and looked, not believing that Akutagawa would reach that place so fast. And in fact, he didn’t: instead, you found a tall, strange man with scars on his eyebrows and a silver chain around his neck, formed by thick beads. The man didn’t take long to spot you on that narrow alley, and when he did, his expression was everything but amicable.

– Hey, sweetie. Let me ask you – he spoke with a harsh voice that suggested long years spent on smoking – Are you the esper who just finished our friend? If not, I can let you go.

You weren’t able to stay indifferent when the word esper was used, and that was your downfall. The stranger understood who you were, and there was nothing you could do to convince him otherwise.

– I… I don’t know what you’re t…

The man interrupted you with a sigh.

– Just don’t make things harder for you, darling – he grinned – Y/n S/n. The girl with psychic abilities. It was tricky to find you without gathering the attention of the wrong people, you know? In this country, they never chill.

You took a step behind.

– But we’re not gonna let you slip from us so easily – he continued, impatient – You might have caught our Arthur unprepared, but you’re gonna have to put some effort this time...

When you saw other individuals with similar expressions approaching behind him and blocking the entire alley’s exit, all the explanations became unnecessary. So, not only you just found out there were other people with special abilities in this world, but it was also revealed that they might not have the best intentions towards you; and as if it wasn’t enough, thanks to this you just got yourself involved in a compromising situation in which you couldn’t count on the authorities, a circumstance that would surely be used by those criminals against you.

Considering all of this, whether the men blocking your escape were all espers or not, you wouldn’t get rid of them if you refused to use your powers.

And you were glad you did it before the man with the scars first attacked.

He removed the chain from his neck and tossed it at your direction, then stretched his hands toward it. The beads were separated from each other and started moving under the influence of his gestures, serving as ammunition: they were thrown at you from all directions, being deflected by the shield you created around your body. Despite not being hit by any of them, you sensed their summoner’s strength in each bead, asking you to take him seriously.

Guess I’m lucky that for now he’s the only one striking.

The man wasn’t surprised to see your defenses were working: instead of that, you saw he was willing to test the durability of it. He called the silver beads back, regrouping them around his hands like a swarm, only to send them against you for the second time, now producing a stronger, faster strike. You barely had the time to fortify your shield; you felt one of the pieces passing close your ear, burning your skin and moving your hair with its speed; you gasped and expanded your shield as soon as it was gone.

You were aware that you couldn’t keep things like this forever: you had no ways to know when the other men were going to interfere, and what they were capable of; but at the same time that you shouldn’t ignore them, you couldn’t get distracted from your current adversary.

Taking advantage from your shield, you started analyzing the situation.

Your shield was effective, yes, but it demanded too much energy to stay active, so that you couldn’t depend on it to win; you were also slow to switch between the shield and the telekinesis, and until this day you had severe difficulty to use both abilities at the same time, which increased your chances of error while trying this on him; a chance that those people would never miss.

On the other hand, the man’s ability was perfect for fights, based on consecutive, fast strikes from aleatory directions; it wasn’t impossible for your expanded senses to guess what was going to happen, but taking measures to protect yourself with the same efficiency was a different story. Your abilities made both of you suited for medium to long distance combat, that was true, but unlike you, that man was an experienced individual, aware of the exact reach and durability of his power.

As long as he was able to move his hands, the beads would continue to move as well. In this case, the only logical choice for you would be...

Harm the source of his ability’s control!

When the man called the pieces to himself for the third time, you knew it was your chance: you had to be fast. You undid your shield and, before anyone could understand what you were doing, you reached for the man’s hands, immobilizing them. The beads stopped wandering and fell on the floor before him.

– Damn it, girl! What are you doing?! Stop it!

You hesitated for a second. Was it too cruel? Well, what he could do to you in case you failed to protect yourself was just as ruthless, wasn’t it? And then there was what you already did to Arthur. If you did that for Virginia, what wouldn’t you do for yourself?

You clenched your fists and the gesture was followed by the sound of bones breaking and a horrific scream of pain and desperation and the gasps of the entire group – what was that specific, absurd counterattack? The man fell on his knees, staring at his own hands, not believing in what he was seeing.

– You... Monster!!

You gasped when you heard that, and for a moment your control over your ability was shaken. That wouldn’t be a problem if that guy was alone, but the men around him, despite the tension, were decided to take that fight to the next level. Their energetic signatures trembled as boiling water when they heard their leader’s command to ignore him and go for you.

You took a deep breath and prepared your eyes to see the scene with him repeating…

Only to get a heavy silence as a response, followed by a stronger, darker signature that landed behind you and paralyzed all the group while your own shaky legs hardly kept you standing.

God, what’s this thing? Who just arrived? Could it be...

The answer to this question came in the most ordinary way, and you would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so terrifying: a low cough, and a calm, well known voice greeted you with the same politeness of the conversations at the bakery.

– I’m late, Y/n-san. My apologies.

Akutagawa-kun…! Is that really you?!

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