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#imagine these when you read my fic
idk-bruh-20 · 8 months
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Irondad fic ideas #148
You know those homework assignments where you have to interview someone in your family and then write an essay about their responses? Fic where Peter's class is told to interview their dad / a father figure in their life. 
Peter decides to interview Tony. But, he doesn't want his class to accuse him of lying, and he definitely doesn't want Tony to know what the assignment is about. 
So for Tony, Peter makes it seem like the assignment is just to interview anyone. Then, he carefully chooses questions to ask that are domestic and personal enough to avoid any mention of superheroes, celebrities, or so on. The few details that do slip through he just leaves out of his final essay.
For the class problem, Peter solves it by referring to Tony in the essay exclusively as "dad"
Unfortunately for Peter, the teacher then announces a part 2 to the assignment. Right after collecting the essays, the teacher says they will now need to bring the people they interviewed to school for their presentations
Peter has pretty much decided to not even mention it to Tony and just say his dad is busy. But then Flash has to open his big mouth. 
He accuses Peter of just making his assignment up, loudly reminding the class that he's an orphan. Peter clarifies that this father figure thing is a new development, but now the teacher looks suspicious
Peter is going to have to ask Tony to come to his school. And he's going to have to explain why the class will be full of kids and their fathers
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kumeramen · 1 year
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I loved your hashisaku and tobisaku art. Can we have more? I love trying to imagine stories by seeing your art. You are so talented!!
Among the founders, TobiSaku is definitely my favorite~!
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kyouka-supremacy · 9 months
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That fic from Akutagawa's pov that remarked how although Dazai had left a bomb under Chuuya's car, at least that showed he had thought about him before going, while he never cared enough to spare a thought for Akutagawa.
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maximovaromanova · 10 months
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Good old fashioned lover girl - N.R [Reclaimed Post]
Reclaimed thanks to @maximotts (who's probably very bemused as to what this whole thing is about 😂)
This is pure fluff! It's back from when I was a newbie but was determined to try writing different dynamics. I'm not very keen on changing anything so I left it all as is!
SO I present to you: Good Old Fashioned Lover Girl (Vega's version)
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"You really can hold your liquor, Romanoff. Rare to see many doing that."
"But you, I've-only-had-about-twenty-shots-I'm-still-sober?"
"Look, last night was quite a blur for me."
"AFTER the twenty-first shot!", she laughed, a soulful, lovable laugh.
"You're one to talk! Three shots in, you were practically using your tongue to inspect the inside of my mouth!", you retorted.
"I did no such thing!"
"Not-so-silent spectator, Carol Danvers would beg to differ.", Carol said, smugly.
"Shut up."
"How did you two start dating anyway?"
"We're not dating.", you said, and Natasha nodded.
'We did go on one date, though, as you know very well.", said Natasha, looking between you and Carol.
"Ah, yes, the mysterious one. You didn't tell me about it, for some... bizarre reason.", Carol said, throwing one leg over the other. "Neither of you, not even you, Y/N, after we became friends."
Natasha shrugged. "It's not that big a deal."
The glass clinked, and Carol nodded as she looked about the restaurant at all the interesting characters, but she just as quickly turned back to you both. "Well, then, tell me about it."
"It was a normal date! We went out to a disco, we kissed under the disco ball-"
"Though I'd have preferred the moonlight-"
"Y/N, no one asked." You chuckled, rolling your eyes, before gesturing for her to continue. "But we soon realized that we didn't- click. Weren't compatible."
Carol looked between the two of you. She leaned over, grabbing the entire bottle of champagne. "How much to make you talk?", she asked, holding the bottle up.
"It's non-negotiable.", you said together.
"Oh, no it's not. Tell me the best parts, at least?"
"Well, okay. It's about six-ish, right?", you began.
Carol nodded. "Right."
"And the doorbell rings. And I'm over here, freaking out because I'm going on a date with this... essentially, gorgeous woman, right? And she seemed to get anxious when I was going through my existential crisis, because she rings it again, and that's when I shook myself and I got the door, taking a deep breath. And there she is, Natasha Romanoff, in a beautiful silk dress, with flowers in her hand, like a perfect, well-mannered lady. And the flowers... oh, they're beautiful but nothing compared to her. And that's all I could keep thinking."
"Well, what I was thinking then was: Y/N hates the flowers."
"Oh, of course I didn't!"
"It looked like you did! You looked past them immediately."
"I looked past them, because past them was you." Carol smiled at that. "And then?"
"Right. So we went to a disco, flashing lights illuminating our eyes and smiles, and we're just about lip to lip. And she whispers, "Can I kiss you?""
"Wow, that's quick."
"What can I say? It was going very smooth, so I decided to take a chance.", said Natasha, shrugging.
"Yeah, so she takes the chance, and I said yes. And she kissed me right there, quick lightning bolt type sparks rhythmically splaying out on our faces like stars from the disco light, as we smiled against each others lips."
"And then I dropped her home."
"Such a good old fashioned lover girl, the way she treated me with love and care, but not like I was fragile and would break or anything. It was perfect."
"It sounds like you very much clicked. What went wrong?"
"My darling lover girl here, found someone else. Someone better."
You scoffed. Carol tilted her head. "Who could you have possibly found that was better?"
"I lied.", Natasha shrugged. Your eyes turned quickly to her. "What?"
"I just didn't think I deserved you, alright? So I said I found someone else.", her eyes were pleading, hoping eagerly for some kind of response that would relax her mind.
"You lied.", you repeated.
Carol looked between the two of you.
"Well, I actually did find someone else, and I'm very happy with her."
"But is she better?", asked Carol.
"What?"
"Is she better than Natasha?"
Natasha stood up, slamming her hands on the table. "I don't need to hear this, nor do I want to. I'm leaving."
"Just a second, Care, I'll be back.", you said, moments after watching her walk away. You followed her, not sure what to say. She stopped suddenly. "What do you want?"
You finally knew what to do. You took a gentle step towards her, turning her around before smashing your lips onto hers.
She blinked slowly, confused, looking into your eyes. You smiled. "Guess both of our pants are on fire."
"You haven't been able to get over me, have you?"
"No.", you laughed, genuinely. "I don't think I ever will."
"I just want to- There's so many-"
She held your hand, kissing it. "You know."
"I do."
"So what now?"
"I think Carol's just itching to know what happened."
"Or she's seen some beautiful woman and is drooling."
"Possible."
"Could we give this another try?"
"Yes. And let's make sure this lasts because there are billions of people in this world. But the only one I can see is you.", said Natasha, smiling.
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nguyenfinity · 11 months
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[slams this on the table] HAPPY MOTHERS’ DAY
Extra:
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becca-alexa · 1 year
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Baby, It's Cold
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?
Word Count: 6.3K
Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching
Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗
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    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.
    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.
    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"
    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"
    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.
    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.
    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.
    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.
    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"
    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.
    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."
    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"
    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.
    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"
    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.
    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?
    It was, but that's another story.
    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.
    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.
    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.
    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.
    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.
    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.
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    You'd been driving for hours.
    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.
    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."
    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.
    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."
    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"
    "Yeah, turn here."
    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.
    And, boy, was it a view.
    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"
    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.
    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.
    "'S it still just nice?"
    "It's really nice."
    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.
    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.
    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"
    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."
    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."
    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.
    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.
    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.
    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"
    "Just let me-"
    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.
    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.
    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.
    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.
    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.
    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."
    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."
    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.
    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.
    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"
    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.
    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."
    "On the floor?"
    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."
    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.
    He had to sleep with you.
    "I-I mean, you're right…"
    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"
    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"
    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.
    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.
    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."
    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."
    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"
    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.
    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.
    "Unless it bothers you-"
    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.
    But, nothing came.
    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.
    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.
    He was cold.
    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"
    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"
    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"
    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."
    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.
    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.
    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"
    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."
    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:
You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.
You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.
    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.
    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.
    "Steve-"
    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."
    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?
    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.
    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"
    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.
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    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"
    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.
    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"
    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.
    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"
    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.
    It was now or never.
    "Yeah, I… I am."
    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.
    "Steve-"
    "I like you, [Y/N]."
    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.
    I like you.
    I like you.
    I like you.
    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"
    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.
    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.
    "But, you're crying-"
    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.
    "[Y/N]-"
    "I like you, too, Steve."
    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?
    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.
    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."
    "Really?"
    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.
    "How long have you…?"
    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.
    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."
    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.
    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?
    How had he not noticed?
    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 
    "Is this alright?"
    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.
    Almost.
    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.
    "[Y/N]?"
    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.
    "[Y/N], look at me."
    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.
    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."
    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.
    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.
    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.
    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."
    He didn't need to be asked twice.
    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.
    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.
    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.
    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.
    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"
    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"
    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."
    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.
    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?
    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.
    "I won't break, y'know."
    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.
    He hadn't even kissed you yet.
    Where's your game, Harrington?
    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"
    "Can I kiss you?"
    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"
    "Do it, Steve."
    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.
    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.
    "Please."
    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.
    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?
    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.
    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.
    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.
    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.
    When he touched you, you screamed.
    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.
    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"
    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.
    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.
    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.
    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.
    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.
    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.
    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.
    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.
    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.
    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"
    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"
    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.
    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.
    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.
    Do you want it?
    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.
    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".
    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.
    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"
    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.
    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.
    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"
    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.
    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"
    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.
    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"
    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.
    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.
    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.
    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.
    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"
    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"
    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.
    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.
    But now you smelled like him, too.
    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."
    "Yeah?"
    "Always."
    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.
    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."
    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.
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muse-oleum · 25 days
Text
Always & Forever
okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Observer (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.
you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.
WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.
as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.
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Always and forever. 
Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside. 
She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord. 
Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on. 
She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust. 
She always had. 
Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves. 
A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse. 
She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again. 
Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes. 
“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”
His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well. 
Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous. 
To everyone else. 
“Elena.”
She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.
“Elijah.”
She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her. 
Not her. Katherine. 
She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now. 
Probably staked herself. 
“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all. 
She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”
He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house. 
“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open. 
He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago. 
“Of course.” 
She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore. 
And therein laid her problem. 
The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door. 
But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right. 
This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin. 
Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air. 
Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy. 
“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried. 
“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman. 
She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”
He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”
She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure. 
“The bar will do.”
She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused. 
“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that. 
“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”
Yeah, figures. 
“Did you know it, back in the day?” 
He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”
“NOLA problems?”
“NOLA problems.”
The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel. 
“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful. 
Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head. 
“Family habit, I see.”
Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back. 
“Family habit?”
Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him. 
“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”
“She seems nice.”
He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse. 
“Elena.”
She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown  on her face because Camille laughed.
“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”
Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled. 
“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”
The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway. 
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”
Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm. 
“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table. 
With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim. 
“Elena?”
This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes. 
“What happened?”
He asked the question flat out, the frown returning. 
“How do you know anything happened?”
“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”
“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened. 
“Is anyone here with you?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”
His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him? 
“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”
She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers. 
“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”
The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.
Elena rather liked the way it sounded. 
She took a breath.
“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”
Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot. 
He just nodded silently. 
“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.” 
Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her. 
“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly. 
And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields. 
“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders. 
“Did he know?”
No use disguising it. 
“Yes.”
The air became even more still. 
“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”
Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense. 
“Yes.”
Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped. 
“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”
Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway. 
“Yes.”
Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely. 
She had never seen him so angry. 
If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity. 
Always and forever. 
She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise. 
She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now. 
“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”
It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it. 
“I… I don’t know what I want.”
Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know. 
Or else how could she hope to feel whole again? 
So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.
“There’s something else.”
Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all. 
“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.
But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting. 
Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed. 
But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity. 
“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”
“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair. 
He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.
“They know better.”
She laughed. 
“A church? Seriously?”
Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation. 
“It’s not even Sunday.”
“Thankfully.”
In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife. 
Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.
Huh.
She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews. 
“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone. 
Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”
“You know the priest?”
He had been pagan, in his youth, right?
Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”
“Small world.”
“Welcome to New Orleans.”
Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers. 
“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”
“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”
He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that. 
“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.
He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.
She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water. 
“I need you to compel me.” 
Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. 
His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.
He never could have, anyway. 
Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away. 
“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.” 
He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her. 
“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw. 
She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely. 
“When I was still sired to Damon.” 
The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears. 
Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.
“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was. 
The beast in his chest growled louder. 
“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”
She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again. 
“Tell me what you need me to do.”
The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her. 
“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her. 
And so, he complied. 
Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face. 
She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart. 
“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore. 
Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar. 
He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.
Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done. 
Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. 
Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that. 
But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known. 
She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired. 
Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far. 
She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond. 
And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself. 
He got exactly what he wanted. 
A Katherine do-over. 
Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately. 
Fury, that was the feeling. 
It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. 
Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again. 
She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him. 
And he had betrayed her. 
She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like. 
Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either. 
Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it. 
“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him. 
She shook her head, sniffling. 
“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”
All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that. 
She had been right. 
She was right to trust him. 
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swordsmans · 8 months
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ahhh i really try to keep things Flirty and Fun here, but i just wanted to lower the capitalization to flirty and fun for a moment, because. this is the second day in a row that i have full-on weepy cried irl over comments on my newest fic, and i really, really, really cannot thank you guys enough for the response to it from the absolute bottom of my heart.
fic writing brings me a lot of joy. it's both a creative outlet and a form of escapism. it's also a very intentional challenge i give my brain. yes, fundamentally i'm writing about two anime guys wanting to kiss sooo bad (because they should)—but inevitably i've put little bits of myself into my stories, as well. my little vulnerable insides that i sometimes struggle to look at directly. you know, regular artist stuff. it's hard not to, because all stories come from the heart (even fanfic).
i stopped writing for myself for many years, and i have only just returned to it this year for various reasons. the response from everyone has been absolutely overwhelming, even from day one. i'm not always the best at responding to messages or comments fast (or even at all, depending on the day) but i read everything. tags, bookmarks, ao3 comments, dms, inbox messages—all of it. i have screenshots saved in case anyone deletes anything. i go back and revisit things over and over again. every single kudos or like brings me joy.
i cannot overstress how much i love and cherish every single person who reads the stuff i've written. i'm a writer but there are literally no words big enough in the english language to express how you guys make me feel. all i can do is say thank you and keysmash and send lots of heart emoji memes... and hope i am getting the message across. but really, really thank you. from the bottom of my heart thank you. thank you, thank you, thank you.
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Honestly Thomas sometimes just looks at us and says, "I think I will call all of you out today"
me swinging a bat in the vague direction of thomas's blog: stop! fucking! perceiving me!!!!!
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that-girl-glader · 8 months
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They're siblings yk
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fnny-bnny · 9 months
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lol i wish fanart had more plus size girls
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deiaiko · 10 months
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#4.1 Lost & found
Grace was exhausted, but sleep still didn't come easy. It was his first night on the second floor, and it had been about a week since he last had Khun by his side. 
Wearing Khun's clothes helped to trick his mind, but it could only do so much to ease his anxiety.
Grace summoned his pocket and dialed Khun's number, as he had done for the past nights. It rang a few times, and Grace braced himself for another missed call.
He shot up from his bed when he heard a familiar voice call his name.
"...Bam?"
"Oh my goodness!" Grace clutched his pocket in disbelief, "Khun!"
"Bam!" Grace could hear a choked sound from the other end, and Khun's voice had gone a little wet. "Oh, Bam, you're here, thank God. I thought–"
I thought I would never see you again. Grace completed the sentence in his mind.
"I found you," Grace whispered. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and the heavy weight in his heart finally lifted. "I finally found you."
"You found me."
There was an unmistakable smile and fondness on Khun's voice, and Grace let himself smile back. "I miss you."
"I miss you too," Khun whispered very softly, as if they were sharing a secret. It wasn't something he said often, after all. "I hope I can finally sleep better tonight. There’s a lot we need to discuss, but I'll save that for tomorrow."
Grace heard a yawn and caught himself doing the same. They wished each other goodnight and fell asleep with their call still connected.
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Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 1
Survivor's Blood
Pairing: Leon x Reader
Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn't expect to live Raccoon City all over again... Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.
Age Restriction: 18+. It's horror - so expect a LOT of blood, corpses, dismemberments, very graphic descriptions of violence, dubious morals and people doing everything to survive. Nothing we haven't seen on RE, but reader discretion advised.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Ok. Long story short, Leon has PTSD. He'll be trying to deal with that while again living very violent and traumatizing experiences. The reader is also damaged by the whole situation - again, expect PTSD, anxiety attacks, doom and gloom, all that stuff. I'll leave warnings every chapter there is something very explicit and potentially triggering, though.
Author's Notes: RE4 remake is among us! Bet you guys didn't see this coming - I didn't either. I have 50+ pages of this sitting on my pc since before I started this blog. I was writing it in Portuguese just to indulge me, but with all the RE4 thing, I'm quite hyped for it - and it came in a good time, I'm in need of keeping my head distracted. Like Nemesis, I'll try to update this one weekly. The good side, it's already halfway written, so I'll only have to work on translating to post - with Nemesis, I actually have to write it.
This one is between RE2 and RE4 - I wanted to explore the innocent little rookie cop Leon becoming badass goofy special agent Leon, so this is kinda it. Almost like a character study that capcom never does <3
Fret not, I do finish my works in progress ;)
Also very proud of this header as well
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Chapter 1
Leon dreamt almost every day with the horrors he had lived in Raccoon City.
To wake up before the sun painted the sky in golden tones, with his hair plastered on his face from the sweat, already grabbing a gun he got in the habit of leaving by his nightstand and aiming it at a random point in the darkness wasn’t a random occurrence anymore.
“Shit…” And he always cursed between a tired sigh, feeling the cold floor under his feet as his elbows rested on his knees, head hanging low.
He could choose the moment that appeared in his dreams, as if he was still there: the cop Leon tried to save and got cut in half right in his hands, the many heads he blew up of innocent people, his very own colleagues who dragged themselves towards him trying to eat him alive, those terrible monsters who followed Leon around as if the was the only living being in that hell…
Leon had enough memories for a whole lifetime. And, most probably, Post-traumatic Stress Disorder also enough for a lifetime.
It was to be expected that the government would find him for intense interrogation sessions and soon decided to turn him into one of its Special Agents – precisely those who do the job that no one else could. And all of that because no one had the experience he had; the Raccoon City experience.
Who would’ve known that from a rookie cop on his first day at the job, Leon would become a Special Agent of the Government.
Even though he had that experience, and it made Leon become a Special Agent, now he was just a rookie again. He had been in some field activities – simple stuff, but, in his dictionary, almost nothing compared to surviving the virus outbreak at the RPD. So, for all effects and purposes, he was still a rookie.
And he never imagined what kind of mission would be his first as a Special Agent. Leon was probably doomed by fate to have the worst first days at work ever.
**
New Setosa, April 29th, 2001 – 16h43
“The whole city is a mess, Chief Nakai. We managed to rescue a few people, but, truth is, everyone is scattered around and we don’t know what to do.” A police officer reported to the police Chief of New Setosa, the city that turned into hell in a few hours. “We don’t know if there are any more survivors or where they are.”
Chief Nakai kept his eyebrows together, evidently worried. Screams of mayhem could be heard all over the town outside the department, and the officers in New Setosa had been called to help in that mess they found themselves in. They said it was a virus, something that could become an epidemic, and it spread faster than a fever at a kindergarten.
“What about Washington? You spoke to them, right? Are them sending more people? Help? Rescue…?” The police officer himself was desperate. In all his years in duty, he had never been through something like that.
“The Government promised to send a team to help us, with a specialist in this kind of situation.” Nakai sighed, finally leaving his room with the officer – only to find a bunch of desolate people needing first aid and food, terrorized with what could be outside.
“How can someone be a specialist in this?!” The police officer was already far from trying to control himself. “I’ve never heard of anything like this shit! I don’t even know what those… Things out there are!”
“In Raccoon City, around two years ago, there was a similar incident. Do you remember…? They blew up the whole city ‘cause apparently a virus spread around and that was the only way to contain the epidemics…?” Nakai tried to remind his subordinate, but the man only denied with his head. They probably found a good way to cover up the story of Racoon City and only a few people remembered what had happened. “Well. Maybe this Special Agent from the Government will be able to help us with this. Maybe he led the extractions in Raccoon City. Maybe he helped the dozen poor bastards who survived to get out of there.”
As if on cue to the words of Chief Nakai, the symphony of approaching helicopters made everyone pay attention to what was happening outside. They approached and distanced right after, making the sound of coordinated steps at the top of the Police Department – the NSPD – be heard. The steps approached in a hurry – and no one knew if they would be friendly or not. One of the internal doors opened with a loud noise, giving way to men in black uniforms and heavy weapons, led by a tall man with gray hair in a military cut.
“Commander Rogers?” Nakai asked as the man immediately approached, offering his hand to start the conversation in the friendlier tone they could at that time. “It doesn’t look like a sufficient number of men to save a whole city.”
“If our suspicions are correct, there may be not that much people to save, Chief Nakai.” The Commander answered with a strong handshake, observing the despair in the eyes of the people in the NSPD. “What’s the situation?”
“There’s a lot more people to save, but we don’t have enough police force. The entire city is chaos outside, and this is the most we were able to do at the moment. We already had too many losses; many good police officers died today.”
Leon observed the entrance hall of the NSPD, in silence. He remembered when he first entered the RPD, years ago, and there was no one. The silence was deadly, and he could only hear the noises of the undead chasing him through the corridors of the police department. That was very similar to Raccoon City…  Too similar.
He hoped with all his heart his PTSD wouldn’t trigger that night. That was the closest he found himself to Raccoon City in years.
“We will try to rescue the greatest number of people we can.” Rogers walked alongside Nakai and the police officer to a nearby meeting room. The Commander signaled Leon to follow him, and he did without a word. As they entered the room, there was a map of New Setosa taped to the wall.
“The issue is that people are spread around the whole city.” Nakai pointed at the map, hopeless. “We tried to gather as much as we could, but those things are at the gates, ready to kill anyone who tries to leave the NSPD. I don’t think people left their homes, and those who did… Well. You saw how it’s like outside. It’s gonna be impossible to gather everyone, we never saw anything like this.”
“We haven’t, but I have a Special Agent who has already gone through something similar.” Rogers confirmed with his head, making Nakai and the officer look at him with hope blooming in their chests. They waited for someone strong and unrelenting to walk in, a war machine, almost like Rambo or the Terminator. “Leon Kennedy.”
As the Commander pointed at Leon, their glances were a little… Disappointed. Leon looked like everything but a war machine like they expected: not that strong, not that imposing, maybe a little too skinny, albeit fit. He looked too young, too inexperienced, too cute for… That.
“No offense, Commander…” The police officer had to say something. After more than ten years working on the streets, he only saw rookies with that face. “But he doesn’t look like the type of person who would know what to do in this situation. We had cops with fifteen years of experience and training dying like cattle today.”
“I told you, Commander…” Leon closed his eyes and took a deep sigh, not in the mood to at least try to smile. He was certain no one would respect him, precisely for looking too young, maybe even inexperienced. And, honestly, that was his first day as a Special Agent, in what could be a copy of Raccoon City. What if he had a panic attack? No one would ever respect him again.
“Kennedy is one of the few survivors of the disaster in Raccoon City.” Rogers words were harsh, ignoring completely how desolated Leon was by his side. “I never dealt with those things, nor anyone else in my team, and even lesser you. Leon, on the other hand, killed dozens of those creatures, survived the massacre, avoided worse consequences and helped other survivors to get out of there alive. Everything new we will see today, won’t be any news for him. If there’s a person here who may know the best strategies for surviving and saving people, this person is him.”
“You survived Raccoon City?” Nakai had his eyebrows furrowed. “Again, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look too young, Mr. Kennedy.”
“It was my first day at work.” Now Leon had a not so happy smile on his lips. “I have a completely different definition of ‘hellish first day in the job’.”
There was something of strange in his eyes; something different. Leon could look too young and even naïve, but something changed when they looked into his eyes. They had something of tired, too harsh and too merciless for someone so young. Those eyes carried something impossible to erase from the mind – as if they would never forget the blood and the death. They expected eyes filled with kindness and innocence, but all they got was cold and emptiness.
“So… Mr. Kennedy.” The police officer looked a little ashamed of his own antics, pointing at the map once again. “What do you think? How was it with you guys? Did you manage to rescue someone?”
“Well… We were able to find a few people. They managed to protect themselves somewhere strategic and had guns for protection.” Leon sighed, taking a look at the city map. “An emergency announcement led everyone to the RPD, but the virus also got there, and it was a massacre. They couldn’t rescue the people fast enough, no one was there for us.”
Leon fell silent for a while, still observing the map. Nakai and the police officer exchanged wary looks while Rogers remained in silence. No one was there, Leon remembered. He and Claire found each other for a whim of fate and had to make their own way between hungry creatures who literally wanted to eat them alive. In the end, the city was destroyed with a bomb. There was nothing left. If Leon and Claire hadn’t insisted so much in their survival, they would’ve had died. The same thing with Jill and Carlos, who now had to battle their own demons because of all that and almost didn’t manage to leave the city on time. They were one of the few who were lucky, very lucky.
“Leon…?” And he was brought back by the Commander’s voice. Leon shook his head slightly and pointed at the map again.
“I don’t think that many people who stayed at home survived. Unfortunately, that’s what happened in Raccoon… We can try to gather some people in big places: schools, hospitals, supermarkets; and then we rescue them little by little with police cars.”
“Most streets are blocked.” Nakai denied with his head, hands on his waist. “We had too many accidents, the streets are pure chaos. Cars, trucks, motorbikes… You choose. They’re all thrown in the streets, in pieces or in flames.”
“In pieces and in flames too.” The police officer had to point it out.
“That happened in Raccoon as well. We can ask people to gather somewhere nearby, and our team goes in for the rescue. We'll call the base and ask for enough helicopters to take everyone away from here.” Leon suggested right after, looking at Rogers for approval.
“And how are we going to gather everyone in one single place?” The Commander still thought about it, albeit knowing it was the best shot they had. “It’s not like we can go around screaming a PSA.”
“Radio and television. When things like this happen, people try to communicate and keep waiting for communication.” Leon nodded as he remembered what happened in his own city, years prior. “When they announced the bomb, it was through a special announcement in the TV, I remember Carlos told me. He woke up and it was basically an audio telling everyone who survived to leave the city ‘cause a missile was programed to blow it up. We can try at least through the radio.”
“Hmmm… Grace is here in the NSPD with her assistant, Chief.” The officer was starting to see the first glimmer of hope amidst that hell. “If there’s still someone alive in the studio, she might be able to record the announcement here and we can start an emergency broadcast in Channel 8.”
“Grace is the weather girl; she was in the middle of a transmission when one of those things almost ate her and the whole team.” The Chief explained, shaking his head right after. “They lost two assistants, but the cameraman was able to flee with his camera untouched. Grace appeared running after him completely desperate, still holding the microphone.”
“It might work. If we can guarantee there’s someone at the studio, it’s possible gather people in… The hospital, maybe?” Leon observed the map, but soon received a frantic negative answer both from the police officer and Nakai.
“That was the starting point of all this disgrace.” The Chief ran his hand over his forehead. “We’re avoiding it like the plague. I’m sure no one survived in there.”
“Ok. Let’s talk to this Grace and see if we can get some communication at the broadcast station.” Rogers fumbled with the rifle in his hands, apparently having no worries with Leon carrying just one handgun, dearly named Matilda.
Rogers didn’t mind Leon’s weirdness. The kid had survived hell. In his point of view, he could be as weird as he wanted to.
“If we can’t contact anyone there…” With that, Rogers glanced at his Special Agent. Once more, Leon’s steel blue eyes carried that quite atypical coldness.
“I’ll go there, and I’ll find someone. If there isn’t anyone, you can just guide me, and I’ll make it work.” Leon had a small smile in his lips, remembering the first end of the world he had gone through. “I already had to learn a couple things the hard way. Making a TV broadcast work mustn’t be that hard.”
“Great. Let’s redirect the survivors to the school, any objections?” Rogers finally decided and got only negative answers from both Nakai and the police officer.
He wouldn’t make it obvious, but he was proud of Leon – for an ex-rookie cop, he was behaving quite well as a Special Agent.
**
“Grace?” In the packed entrance hall of the police department, filled with crying and mayhem, the voice of the police Chief made a woman with dark hair and shiny green eyes turn around to him, startled. “We need your help.”
“You?!” That’s what she spat back at him as an answer, completely baffled. The red suit jacket and skirt were dirty and misaligned, the white shirt stained with blood. “We are the ones who need help! Are you doin’ somethin’ to take us out of here or just chattin’ and drinkin’ tea?!”
“Charming.” Leon murmured to Rogers, already internally sighing upon realizing they really needed her help and couldn’t just ask someone else for it. They didn’t need someone with a superstar complex at that moment. The Commander just answered with a small, almost inaudible, laugh.
“We need you to make an emergency broadcast to the city. Where’s your assistant? What is his name?”
“His name is assistant.” Grace huffed, crossing her arms and already looking impatient. “What emergency broadcast? You guys want me to go to the studio for that? I am not leavin’ here.”
“Grace, please… Be reasonable.” Nakai gently touched her arm, approaching the woman. The police Chief lowered his voice. “We want all the survivors to gather in one single place. A TV broadcast helped some people to survive in Raccoon City, it might help here too. We need you to call the studio and see if there’s someone alive in there to broadcast while you give the announcement and the assistant records it.”
“In Raccoon City…? How do you know that?” The woman now looked confused and less combative. She also lowered her voice and seemed a little more prone to help.
“I was there.” Leon almost shrugged, being noticed for the first time. “If there’s no one in the studio, I’ll go there, and you tell me how to broadcast. The goal here is to gather the most people we can in just one place so we can get you all out of the city.”
Grace remained silent for a few seconds, observing Leon. She slowly ran her eyes through each of them, confirming with her head as she thought about it, finally uncrossing her arms.
“It might work…” She murmured back. “If there’s someone alive in the station, I know who’s gonna be. Let’s hope they listen the phone ringin’.”
The group headed back to the meeting room, closing the door and putting the phone in speakers. Grace dialed as fast as she could, watching her cameraman lost outside the room and signaling him to enter and remain silent. Patience wasn’t her virtue.
The phone barely rang once until a silent voice picked it up on the other side.
“Hello…?” It was uncertain, probably hiding. They didn’t let the phone ring so it wouldn’t draw unwanted attention.
“Hello? Y/n?!” Grace rested both her hands on the table, almost covering the phone with her body. The voice on the other side sighed in delight and had to contain itself not to scream.
“Gracie?! You’re alive?!” You took a deep breath while the woman affirmed enthusiastically, your heart beating fast and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.
“Y/n, oh my, y/n…!” Grace murmured, sighing right after, trying to hold back her tears. “I knew that you would be alive…!”
“It was tough, Grace. Almost died. Where are you?”
“On the NSPD! That’s exactly why I’m callin’! They are here with…”
“Wait…! Stop talking…!” You suddenly fell silent and everyone in the meeting room heard insistent knocks on a door, alongside horrible undead moans. They exchanged quick looks, not knowing what was going on.
After a few good minutes in silence, the banging finally stopped and the dragged steps couldn’t be heard anymore. You controlled your breath and barely made any noise – they started to ask themselves if you still were on the other side of the line.
“Hey. I’m at the Director’s room, I barricaded the door but those things still try to enter here until changing their attention to fresh blood.” You finally got back to the call, speaking even lower than before. They had to make the speakers louder on their side.
“Is there anyone else alive in there…?” Grace was even scared to ask. Actually, she didn’t want to, but she knew they would ask you that eventually.
“No. Not that I know of.” You sighed on the other side, following with a humorless laugh. “But, I think this is going to comfort you: the fresh blood is from the Director. I tied him up one of the windows after he died; he bled so much that he immediately grabs the attention of those things who are feasting on him.”
“Hmmm…” And Grace laughed briefly after hearing the news, a little more content than she should’ve. “It’s a lot more than what that shitty abuser deserved.”
“Well, at least he was useful for something, right?” You shrugged, understanding Grace’s anger. Anyone would understand it.
“Y/n, my dear, I need you to do me a favor. That’s why I called.”
“When do you call me not to ask for a favor?” You tried to joke for a while, making Grace let out a genuine laugh. “Even in the apocalypse you call me for favors. What if I had died?”
“I knew you hadn’t died. Out of every person in that studio, you’re the only one who had a chance; I’m just alive now ‘cause I wasn’t there when all hell broke loose.” Grace suddenly turned serious, looking a lot more professional than before. “Chief Nakai and Commander Rogers of the Special Forces want me to record an emergency broadcast so all survivors will go to the school, and they can be escorted to the NSPD and rescued. The idea is to broadcast it on the TV and the radio, so I’m gonna need someone inside the studio to broadcast the signal of our camera to TVs across the town and my audio through the radio.”
“Hmmm, ok. I’ve no idea how to do that nor how I’m gonna get there, but we’ll worry about it when I actually get there.” You mirrored her tone, immediately understanding the seriousness of the situation.
“Excuse me, y/n?” Leon finally decided to take over the call. “Leon Kennedy, Special Agent and Raccoon City survivor. I can help. Do you have any radio in there?”
“Like a walkie talkie?” You asked back and, from the noise, it seemed like you were going around the room. “Dunno. The Director had all kinds of junk in here.”
“He had one of our police radios.” The officer added with a long sigh, receiving suspicious looks. “How do you think he knew exactly when some interesting crime happened and appeared there out of the blue, sometimes even before than us? The man was never worth a dime.”
“Well. At least now he’s worth something.” You considered in a mumble, followed by a rather loud noise and some things being fumbled around. “Locked drawer, the key is probably still with him. I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of the half-dead people already feeding on the piece of crap at the moment.”
Grace giggled – that was the internal nickname of the Director to anyone who worked in the broadcast station; specially women.
“Hmmm, found it. How can I turn it on?”
“There’s a switch on top of it that shows the frequencies, can you see it?” Leon’s answer was in autopilot, getting a positive response from you after a few seconds. “We can find a frequency…”
“0.5 hertz. No one uses that channel, you won’t be interrupted.” The police Chief added before Leon could finish talking, throwing him a similar radio. Leon adjusted on that very same frequency.
“Great. You just have to press a button on the side to open the channel to talk to me. I’m gonna test it here and you tell me if it works, ok?” He didn’t even have to say much for you to agree. With a few words, you could hear him loud and clear.
“Ok, it works. What about you?”
“Working as well.” Leon smiled. Luckily, you seemed to be a fast learner. “Talk to me as you walk around the studio, and I can help you around those things. I was a cop in Raccoon City.”
“Yeah, I know. Claire and Jill told me about you.” Your answer came with a sigh, not at all happy with the perspective of getting out of the room you had made so secure for yourself. “Gimme a minute to get ready. I’ll call you on the radio, ok?”
“Ok, that works.”
“Y/n.” Before ending the call, Grace called you one more time. “Just… Don’t die, ok? I wanna see you again. I don’t wanna be the only one left from the studio.”
“Don’t worry, Gracie. We need a lot more than half a dozen slow zombies to kill me.” You had a cocky smile in your voice, making her laugh before finally ending the call.
The only problem was that there was a lot more than half a dozen zombies in the studio.
**
To be continued...
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Text
Age Of Consent [part five]
Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader
Word Count: 3.083
What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.
A/N: Halfway through!! Remember I post an update daily at 12:00 PM EST, tags are unfortunately closed for this series. Really hope you guys like this one! Can't wait for what happens next!
Read Part Four || Read Part Six
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When your brother mentioned that he wanted to go to a concert, you weren't sure what to expect, but you certainly did not expect to pull up to a dingy, poorly lit bar on the outskirts of town.
"Dustin," you said. "I think you have the wrong address."
"I most certainly don't," he replied with a wide smile. "Come on, let's go."
The inside was just about as welcoming as the parking lot. If your mother knew that you had brought her sweet, sweet baby boy into a dive bar, she would flatline on the spot. You mentally reminded yourself to make sure that Dustin pinky swore to never tell her about this little escapade later.
No one even seemed phased by the presence of Dustin which both relieved and frightened you. A scantily clad waitress brought over two glasses of water and asked if you wanted something stronger, but you declined. You had a feeling that she wouldn't even card you.
The lights dimmed and Dustin began to cheer. He was the only one.
You could see four dark figures walk out onto the stage and pick up their instruments. The beginning notes of a song that you faintly recognized played through the amplifiers and your brother cheered loudly, once again. The spotlight hit the stage and your jaw just about hit the floor.
You could not believe that your brother had brought you to a Corroded Coffin show. This was the exact reason why you didn't want Dustin hanging around Eddie; he had clearly been deceiving you from the jump and this was one-thousand percent a setup. It was as clear as day to you now. You had gone two years without once seeing Eddie in this small town, but the moment your brother got involved you started seeing him everywhere? Total setup.
However, you were still so goddamn impressed by the boy's ingenuity that you weren't mad at him one bit. You knew your brother was smart, you should have known that he would have figured out that you still had feelings for Eddie.
Speaking of impressed, you were enamored by Eddie's band and how good they had become over the years. You didn't recognize any of the other kids, but they were great, and probably the best metal cover band that you had ever heard of- not that you had heard of many in Hawkins. Out of all of them, however, it was Eddie who was the best. He had been playing the guitar since he could tie his shoes, pretty much, and it was obvious that he was extremely talented.
You couldn't tear your eyes away from his hands.
Your surroundings melted away as you became entranced by the way his fingers worked the neck of his guitar with such delicacy, such ease. His hair was damp with sweat as he bounced around the stage, that effortless charisma on full display for the small crowd. You remembered when he used to pull out his acoustic guitar and play for you; his onstage persona was the complete opposite of the softness of his bedroom.
After every song, Dustin screamed at the top of his lungs in support of his friends. You could see the shy smile on Eddie's lips every time and it made your heart melt.
When the set was over, Eddie hopped down off of the stage and immediately made his way over to the table.
"Dude!" Dustin yelled, giving Eddie a high-five. "That was so awesome!"
"Thanks, man," Eddie said before his eyes landed on you. "I'm glad you were able to make it."
"I lost a bet, remember?" You smiled at him and he laughed. "That was pretty impressive, I gotta hand it to you."
Eddie placed a hand on his chest sarcastically. "That is just about the best damn compliment you could give a guy, Ms. Henderson, considering how hard it is to impress you."
"Can we get something to eat?" Dustin interrupted. "I'm starving."
"You should have had something to eat before we left." You chided. "It's so late, I doubt anyone's open."
"There's a diner down the road that has the best burgers in all of Indiana," Eddie added. "I am also on the verge of starvation if you want to go. I know it's way past your bedtime, kid."
"Can we go, Y/N?" Dustin pleaded. "I'm not even tired!"
"You are spoiled, you know that?" You asked your brother.
He was already running out of the door to the car. Eddie grabbed your elbow before you could head out after him. It was a simple touch, but it made your cheeks flush; you hoped that he hadn't noticed with how dimly lit the bar was. You looked at his hand holding on to your arm and he immediately pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he was in trouble.
"I gotta stick around here long enough to take down the equipment," he said softly. "The diner is about five minutes from here, you just take a left out of the parking lot and keep going straight. It'll be on the right-hand side of the road. I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes, this won't take long."
"Sure," you replied. "I'll see you there."
"Can't wait," he smiled.
You had been fighting the butterflies in your stomach from the moment you had left The Hideout bar to the moment that Eddie's van pulled into the diner parking lot. It was a losing battle, but you weren't ready to give in to them. Not yet. You couldn't just give up the ghost after two years of being at war with your own feelings. You wouldn't let him get off that easy, no matter how hard he or your brother were trying.
He slid into the booth next to Dustin, across from you, and immediately the nonsense began. Eddie and your brother were like opposite sides of the same coin; they read the same books, played the same games, watched the same movies. They were both brilliant, yet immature, and didn't care about who stared at them or how big of a scene they caused.
In the two hours that you spent in that booth, you don't think you had laughed this hard since your dad was alive. Between Dustin's snappy comebacks and Eddie's jokes, your cheeks were in pain from smiling so much.
And it was comforting to see Dustin so happy.
"Getting tired?" You asked your brother as he let a yawn slip. "We should probably get going."
Dustin wanted to protest, but both you and Eddie reminded him that he had school in the morning. You were surprised when Eddie asked for one check and fished out a twenty-dollar bill to cover your meals. You had mentioned to him that it wasn't necessary for him to do that, but he waved a hand at you, muttering something about it being no big deal.
"Thanks for coming to see my band play," he said quietly as he walked you to your car. Dustin was already in the front seat waiting on you. "Despite the fact that you only came because you lost a bet. You don't have to remind me that you definitely would not have come if it weren't for that, I already know."
You smiled, "you know me so well."
"That I do, m'lady."
"Look, I know that you have school tomorrow," you began, not really knowing how to finish this particular sentence without feeling like you were choking on thin air. "But I'm not quite as tired as that guy," you pointed over your shoulder at Dustin who was practically already asleep in the car. "You want to maybe- I don't know- If you wanted to come over? You totally don't have to, I would definitely understand."
You were rambling.
"Y-yeah," Eddie blurted almost as soon as the question left your lips. He was a little confused, definitely shocked, but ready to go with you wherever you asked nonetheless.
"Okay, cool." You replied doing your best not to smile like a goddamn idiot and play it cool. "You want to just follow us?"
"Sure," he nodded, still surprised that you would even ask him to come over and in front of your brother, no doubt.
You climbed into your car, trying to ignore your brother's stare.
"Did you just invite Eddie over to our house?"
"Yes," you replied as you started up the ignition. "And you're not going to tell mom, considering that this was your plan all along. You're especially not going to tell her that the little concert you wanted to go to so bad was at a dive bar. Pinky promise me."
Dustin wrapped his little finger around yours and bound the contract.
The drive back to your house was longer than usual. You weren't quite sure what made you want to invite Eddie back to your house, but you were only slightly regretting it. It's not like you could get all the way into your driveway and tell him that you had changed your mind.
"Straight to bed," you told your brother when you pulled up outside of your house. The lights were off, signaling that your mother had already gone to bed herself.
Eddie had parked across the street out of habit. He never wanted your mother to question why there was a creepy white van sitting directly in front of her house, especially since she had no idea that he even existed in your life. Dustin gave him a wave before heading inside, leaving the two of you alone.
"For old time's sake?" He asked, holding a joint between his fingers.
"I will not be so easily corrupted, my good sir."
"Says the young lady who used to sneak me in through her window every night," he countered. "Should I go grab the ladder from the side of the house?"
You playfully shoved him before heading towards the front door. Eddie stayed where he was, however, not sure what to do. You turned around and motioned for him to follow you and he was at your side in an instant. When you passed through the front door, Eddie was stalled by the pictures that hung on the walls of the foyer; there was a picture for every year, almost. He had never been through your front door, never stood in your living room. This was all new to him and he needed a moment to take it all in.
"Look at your cheeks," he whispered with a smile as he pointed to one of your baby pictures.
"Come on," you whined, pulling him by the hand into your kitchen.
You knew that your mother kept a few cans of beer in the very back of the fridge in case she ever had company- which was never, and you were certain that it was probably stale, but you still fished them out from behind the two-week old leftovers and handed them to Eddie.
"Who's corrupting who?" He asked with a quiet chuckle.
"Come on, let's go."
"Oh, I'm taking these!" He whispered excitedly as he grabbed a bag of Doritos off of your counter.
You guided him through your backyard to Dustin's treehouse. He was insistent that you go up the ladder first, possibly out of chivalry, definitely because he wanted to stare at your ass. He handed you the beers and the Doritos before pulling himself up the ladder behind you. The tree house was small, and missing a roof at this point. Your dad had built it for Dustin when he was only five, so it had definitely seen better days.
But it offered a clear view of the sky and the crickets in the background provided a beautiful soundtrack.
You sat leaning against one of the wooden beams, Eddie was opposite you. Your feet playfully bumping into his. He cracked open a can of beer and passed it to you before opening one of his own and taking a swig. He placed the joint from earlier in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out into the night.
"You remember the first time you brought me over here?"
He passed the joint off to you and you took it without hesitation.
"How could I forget?" You asked, taking a long drag. The burn of the smoke in your throat made you cough. "You were so nervous. You didn't want to touch anything in my room, you were afraid you would break something."
You reached out to pass the joint back to him. His calloused fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver through your arm. He took a hit of the joint and gently knocked the ashes off of the end.
"I was nervous because when I got there you looked me dead in the eye and asked me to take your virginity. I, too, was a seventeen-year-old virgin, how else was I supposed to react?"
"Hm," you remembered that night fondly. "You were so cute asking me for permission every twenty seconds."
"Just in case you changed your mind."
Eddie reached back out to you, passing the joint; your fingers lingering a little longer this time. The effects of the high were wearing on you, as they always did. You were giggling over nothing with eyes half-open. Eddie wasn't helping; his constant jokes and theatrics as he re-told past memories had you crying from laughing. You prayed that no one could hear you, it had to be past midnight by now.
At this point, you were both laying on your backs looking up at the stars and talking about nothing that mattered because neither one of you wanted to ruin this moment. You were pressed against each other, side-by-side, the warmth from his body keeping you from getting too cold. Your hands touched, back to back, but you could feel his fingers itching to intertwine with yours.
"Fuck, I've missed this," he said softly as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of your hand.
You became suddenly hyper-aware of the situation that you had put yourself in. Your mind began to fixate on the fact that he was holding your hand in his, and that you were completely leaning into him. The high immediately dissipated and you were left with the aching feeling that you were about to cross a line that you did not want to cross.
"I think you should go," was all that you could think to say. "I didn't realize it was so late." You had hoped the last part would soften it.
He sat up and frowned, "Did I do something wrong?"
"All of this is wrong, Eddie." You sighed. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"Why?" He asked, his voice breaking. "I thought we were having a good time."
"We were," you answered honestly.
"Then what is it?" He pushed. You paused. "I'm still not fucking good enough for you am I?" You sighed in response, not wanting to go down this road with him right now. "Well, I am so sorry that I don't fit into the cookie-cutter life that you always wanted; good college, pastel sweaters, conformity."
"Wasn't even able to get into a good college because of you, so don't even bring that shit up right now." The words came heavily from your mouth and were laced with anger.
Eddie stops and turns to you.
"What?"
You had thought about this argument for a long time.
"I know that you remember the day we were caught smoking pot out past the football fields, even though you swore up and down no one ever came out there." You recollected. "I had to put on the performance of a lifetime pretending that I was sick for that 10-day suspension so that my mom didn't find out."
"In case you weren't aware, things like that go on your public record, making it impossible for me to get into a decent school." You could feel your eyes burning. "I applied for almost every college in the goddamned country."
Eddie sighed and reached a hand out to comfort you but you pushed him away. "Y/N, I didn't realize-"
"Of course you didn't," you cried. "You were so- so fucking selfish back then, all you cared about was your little club, your guitar, and your punk ass reputation. I wanted to break up with you then, I almost did, but I loved you so much."
"Baby," he whispered, trying to pull you into his arms. "I'm so sorry."
"I didn't want to break up with you Eddie, but I had to. That day at graduation, I just couldn't do it anymore."
You could see his eyes glossy in the moonlight. He was mere inches away from you, wanting nothing more than to hold you and somehow make this better. He felt fucking awful, and suddenly he realized what you meant when you said that his choices had a way of bleeding into the lives of the people around him. Fuck, he felt like such an asshole.
"You should really go," you said once again.
He nodded, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to remedy this situation. In his heart he also knew that trying to win you back was a moot point. You were right to have broken up with him, to never want to see him again. Hell, he wouldn't have wanted to see himself either.
In high school, all that you had talked about was getting out of Hawkins and getting into a good school with a good theater program. The fact that he had something to do with you not being able to achieve those dreams made him feel sick to his stomach. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. You didn't even want to go out there. You said that you needed to study for your Literature test, but he begged you to skip lunch with him and head out towards the woods.
He remembered how you didn't talk to him for almost a month after that.
He climbed down from the treehouse and turned back one more time, but you wouldn't look at him. He muttered something under his breath that you couldn't quite hear before stalking off into the darkness. You could hear his van start-up and take off down the road, leaving you with nothing but an ache in your gut and a feeling of regret.
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lunathebee · 1 year
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how do you think the moon boys would react if they found out their partner was secretly an avenger or and unidentified surperhero that’s been all the talk recently
(i have a feeling that marc would definitely start an argument over how dangerous it is and how’s it’s his job to protect his partner not the other way around)
Y/n: I'm...an avenger
Marc: Okay? That's nice, what is it? Your new job?
Y/n: What? No, like an actual avenger, fighting bad people and-
Marc: Did you just said fighting? *wide eyes*
Y/n: Ummm yes
Marc: Bae do you KNOW how dangerous is that?
*Steven chimes in*
Steven: Whoaa, so your job is to be a superhero?? Can I also be an avenger?
Marc: Steven not now-
Steven: Wait, aren't we already the Avengers? Marc, you're an avenger right?
Y/n: Yea I think he is
Marc: Can you guys just be quiet for onE SEC? *Take a deep breath* Y/n baby, promise me you won't be involed in "The Avengers" anymore
Y/n: Why can you fight crimes and I can't?
Marc: Because I made a deal with an Egyptian GOD and he forces me to do so??? What deal do you have?
Y/n: I...well...They are nice people, and I heard they got free food for everyone. That seems like a good deal to me.
Steven: I would take that deal if you asked me
Marc: STEVEN!
(And for Jake, I think he would be all lovely like "Oh yes, darling, I'm so happy for you; why don't you tell me more?" while secretly questioning whether The Avengers are a cult that has brainwashed you and whether he needs to save you)
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aeide-thea · 8 months
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okay, question: are nicknames that shorten someone’s full name to one of its unaccented syllables ever actually a thing outside of badfic, or…?
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