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loveshotzz · 2 months

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I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten.

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?”

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins.

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton.

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks.

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.”

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs.

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!”

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up.

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do.

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face.

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her.

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house.

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house.

Salt N Pepa’s ��Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail.

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it.

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him.

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years.

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun.

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves.

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation.

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink.

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive.

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though.

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more.

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare.

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh, you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs.

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge.

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?”

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away.

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!”

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food.

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout.

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight.

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission.

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap.

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up.

“Does she know that?”

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer.

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!”

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat.

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?”

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one.

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s.

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt.

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door.

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more.

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it.

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him.

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall.

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington.

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch.

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room.

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway.

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of.

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen.

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.��

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters.

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget.

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse.

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.”

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

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sangwooooh · 5 months

Text

Why won’t you speak?

“Even dead they ignore you, huh?”

This is the second part. If you want to read the first part, the link is at the end. Sorry, it took me a while :,)

Warnings: character death, mental issues, grief, child neglect (?), disability (m/n is using crutches because of the injury he got from an accident in his younger years). Canon divergence … ? Regardless, I’ve changed things. also, the addition of Roy Harper ;)

“Close your eyes for a second, won’t you?”

M/n chuckles, “What do you want, Roy? Don’t we have anything better to do?” He closes his eyes nonetheless. Wouldn’t hear him say it out loud, but M/n will probably do anything if it was Roy who asked. That’s how the two of them are.

“Just…,” there is some shuffling. What is that man doing? “Just bear with me for a sec.”

“Fine, I’ll indulge you. But it better be worth it.” M/n added as more of a joke at the end. It wouldn’t even matter if it was worth it or not, if Roy considered it so.

Roy sighs and touches M/n’s shoulder, slides his fingers down to his hand and holds it, squeezing it softly. Then the touch is no more and M/n is left feeling cold.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“I’m married now, by the way.”

“What?!” Jason stands up in shock. He clears his throat because some heads turn his way. They are in a public place, after all. A dingy bar, but still public.

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought, huh?” Roy plays with a small lock of his hair as Jason sits back down.

“It’s… something.” Jason coughs.

Roy pushes his friend slightly, no ill intention there. Jason laughs that laugh of his that leaves Roy stunned. An almost fragile smile graces the redhead’s lips and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him.

Jason swirls his drink, a low quality beer that doesn’t even get the job done, but it’s cheap and it’s alcohol so whatever, “She’s one lucky girl.” He looks straight at the queasy liquid and feels a lump forming in his throat. A tiny one, the one he gets from time to time, at the thought of what his life could have been. He can’t even comfort himself with the idea of another Jason in another world living happily in his stead. He doesn’t believe he is that lucky. Entertaining the thought only brings something close to nostalgia for what has never happened and… well, how would he even begin to explain?

He gets another push from Roy, one that pulls him out of his thoughts. “Hey!” Jason exclaims.

“Look at you assuming!” Roy ruffles Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes Roy’s hands away from his freshly washed hair.

“Who ever said they were a girl? I’ll let you know that I’m the lucky one to have my hubby.” Roy is presenting the most disgustingly precious heart eyes, almost making Jason visibly shudder.

Once Jason gets Roy off him he fixes his hair (not really doing much, but whatever) and downs the rest of his drink. He leaves some money on the table, nodding to the bartender (poor guy was trying to wipe away some stain that was probably never gonna leave that sorry excuse of a bar), who nods back.

“Let’s get out of this shithole.”

“Uh-Uh, okay.” Roy quickly downs his apple juice, cringes, then leaves his own payment on the greasy table.

As they walk down the dark streets of Gotham, Jason looks at the smogged up sky, can almost see the clear moon if he squints.

“How’s he like?”

Roy sighs dreamily, “My life’s been pretty shitty after you ‘died’, but he helped me get better. He is… I wouldn’t know how to explain it, but there is no need for you to worry, Jason. I’m finally at peace, I would say.” Jason’s friend ends on a sadder note and Jason thinks that, perhaps, he thinks of it too, what could have been.

Jason clasps a hand on Roy’s strong arm, “You’re good. That’s what I need to know.” He smiles at the redhead who looks close to genuinely crying. Tears gather in the no longer child’s eyes too, but Jason doesn’t let them fall. Memories are blurred, but some spring up now that he looks Roy in the eyes. If they hug it out and some tears slip, it’s for only them to know.

M/n cooks breakfast for Bruce, Tim and Alfred, as he does every now and again, whenever he stops by the manor. Roy doesn’t complain and, of course, he joins, aiding his hubby with the help he needs. When Bruce tries to keep him at the door, Roy can always use the I’m part of the family now argument.

Speaking of Roy, he’s been behaving strange as of lately. He comes in late and he leaves at the first sign of daylight. If he were anybody else, M/n would suspect cheating or growing back into old habits, but that simply isn’t his Roy. M/n is pretty sure his husband will say something pretty soon. He always slips up. Can’t keep a secret from M/n to save his life.

M/n picks up the plates, balancing them on one hand, the other holding onto his crutch for dear life, and takes six instead of five. He stares for the longest time at the extra plate, then places it back. With the five plates in hand, he heads towards the enormous table (it always seemed bigger than the world when he was younger, just like Bruce), stumbling here and there on the carpet (it’s not that the carpet isn’t neatly placed every time, courtesy of Alfred, but handling everything with one hand is harder than you’d think), and sets it nicely. He has developed a sense of dexterity around the house, even with the setbacks. Alfred smiles proudly at him as the older man brings the pancakes from the kitchen.

“I’ll go get the honey.” Dick and Alfred used to look at M/n with concern when he first started eating honey with his pancakes. After all, Jason expressly used to talk about how it was ‘ultimately the only way he likes pancakes’.

“It’s alright, I got it.” Bruce appears from the kitchen as well, making M/n jump.

“Don’t just sneak up on people, dad!”

Bruce scratches the back of his head, “Sorry, can’t really turn the stealth mode off.” Tim snorts from his spot at the table. The brooding bat is trying to be better, M/n knows this. He can’t help, however, the lingering loneliness he feels whenever he looks at his father too long. It’s not something he can control, really. But dark thoughts must be kept at bay.

Roy makes his way into the room, hands wet from washing them. He walks to M/n and places a kiss on his husband’s cheek, using the diversion as a chance to wipe his wet hands on M/n’s hoodie (that, actually, belongs to Roy). M/n gasps in faux shock, but Roy only laughs and pecks him on the lips.

“Love you.” Roy says cheerily, loud enough for the whole room to hear. Bruce clears his throat, eyes narrowed, hand squeezing on the honey jar.

“Careful not to break that, Master Bruce.” Alfred speaks with an amused glint in his eyes. “How about we all get to the table? Master M/n has made us quite the nice breakfast.” Alfred ushers all of them in their respective places. All on one side of the big table. Bruce at the head, to his right Tim, to his left M/n. Roy is to the left of M/n, and Alfred to the right of Tim. M/n doesn’t escape the images flashing before his mind’s eye: a boy in front of him, not Tim, and he talks like he has the whole world to fill with words and not nearly enough time. Right after, M/n couldn’t bare to see the spot empty and when, two years later, Tim came and filled it himself, M/n couldn’t bear to see it filled by somebody else. M/n swallows hard, yet the lump is still there, pressure in his chest growing steadily. It happens from time to time, the feeling of the world falling around him, the feeling of helplessness from within in regards to the falling. Tears sting his eyes, yet he doesn’t let them fall. He tries to take a bite of his pancakes, oozed in honey, but they get stuck in his throat, choking him. He bends forward for the water glass in front of him. The cold liquid clears his throat and eases the constricted passage.

“Do you ever think of going back?”

Jason stares at the resting figure belonging to a life so far away. The sun is too bright and the flowers pale in comparison to the now man laying in the grass. The manor is as imposing as Jason remembers it — as if through a dream. It’s unreal. And so is the sight of his brother. He looks almost… peaceful. It makes Jason’s stomach churn and twist with he doesn’t know what. Maybe it’s pain or some itch he can’t scratch that goes as deep as his soul. Or maybe it’s longing? His hands shake (they always do, like what the fuck? can’t he just do something without thinking he’s going to fucking burst? get destroyed more than he already is? what even is his fucking life. it’s not even a question anymore. there is no life left. there is nothing. he is nothing. just a pile of bones covered in flesh that should’ve long rotten to dust) and he feels too little on the outside, too much on the inside. He wants to fucking scream! He wants to yell to RAGE AT THE WORLD AND AT THE NEANT and he wants to whisper about everything (about nothing at all) and he wants to have a vanishing act, finally catch up with his end. That is his brother! His brother? Ever since he was able to remember anything at all about his old life, M/n has been there, nagging and pocking and there always there (GOD IF YOU ARE REAL make his un-life make some sort of sense), being the brother he had never been seen as. Conversations that could have been. Conversations that never will be. Jason’s mind is a scrambled mess of scorched and festered brain. He can’t make up half the things he thinks. But, somehow, M/n shines through and it hurts.

He hasn’t seen his home in what feels like an eternity. He has been, in fact, putting it off. It doesn’t even feel like home, just a memory slowly melting into a void in his mind. It’s no lie that Jason half expect his brain to drip out of his ears in his sleep at some point.

“It’s useless, pathetic even, to think of something I can never have. So, yes. I do. I am, in fact, quite useless and pathetic.”

M/n doesn’t notice anything wrong at first, nothing out of common or eye catching. In fact, he would say he doesn’t feel as much of the pressure as he usually does. The world is so big and, really, today it feels like he might be in it too. And it doesn’t occur to him in this moment (perhaps it is that M/n stops it from occurring) that he hasn’t been in it for far too long for that to be true.

Tears don’t—tears don’t exist. They are not real as they fall down his cheeks and he moves his arm to try and stop them. He tries to keep the raptures of his soul from reaping further, he really tries. You have to believe him. M/n really tries to see the world as it is. He just can’t stop himself from seeing it as it should be.

Because he should be here too, seeing the flowers bloom and the sun shining just right, happy and God without those lifeless eyes he sees in his dreams every night (yet in some of his dreams they are so full of life it’s overwhelming; in those dreams Jason is back and he is laughing again and M/n apologizes for everything and things are good; reality often disappoints).

He doesn’t notice the figure creeping up on him, not with his trembling fingers rubbing at his eyes as he slowly and rustily sits up on the grass.

“Get it together, M/n. It’s been over for too long, there is no going back.” M/n sighs his tears away, eventually wiping them with his shirt.

It’s too quite in the garden, even with the occasional chirping of the birds or the buzzing of the busy bees, thus he hears the voice well enough to know it’s not the wind.

“What’s been over?”

M/n’ head snaps up so fast he gets a bit dizzy. The sun casts the man in front of his eyes in a gentle light, and he is so tall as he approaches that he casts M/n in a slight shadow. M/n stares at the man, confused. How did he get here?

“E-Excuse me…?” M/n squints up at the man and can barely distinguish some of his features. Dark hair with a white streak that softens his face. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The man… smiles?

“Yeah… I’m not.” There is a certain nuance to his voice, a note of… sadness.

M/n doesn’t no why, but he feels warm in the presence of this person, and it’s not just the sun, “Do I know you?” M/n asks before he can stop himself.

M/n have the chance to say anything more as the man slowly crouches to his eye level, a cace illuminated in the sun, blue eyes with specs of green.

It’s immediate, instant and shattering— the recognition. It doesn’t take anything more than looking into those eyes, the eyes he sees in his sleep, the eyes that haunt the corners of his mind and hide in the shadow of every memory.

M/n makes a sharp intake of breath, involuntary and too sudden. He doesn’t what he is doing, his actions uncontrolled. He raises his hands to the cheeks of the man in front of him, the man who seems as stuck in place as M/n. M/n rubs softly at the skin, not sure if it belongs to the physical world.

“…Jason?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, quite to his own ears. He smiles through the stinging in his eyes, then shakes his head, “No… this is my dream… always my dream.”

There is conflict in his Jason’s eyes, something M/n can’t figure out, something he’ll never know.

It is a dream because reality is never this kind. He spends moments staring at his Jason’s features, taking them in, admiring the handsome face that could have been if the little boy from back then had been give a chance. When M/n speaks again, he’s already lived a thousand realities in his mind.

“Why do I wake up every time? It’s always better here, with you, than back there where everybody expects me to be real…” A lone tear drips down M/n’s cheek. “You are always quiet in my dreams. So strange…”

“What’s been over?” His Jason repeats, slightly startling him, and he looks at M/n with the same lack of resolve M/n feels. His Jason looks as close to the end as M/n feels. His Jason looks like a requiem to M/n’s final dream of life.

“I always try to tell you, but I never quite get the chance… How,” He looks deep into the apparition’s eyes, the windows to his Jason’s soul, “How much I regret not listening to you.”

His Jason tenses under his hands. His eyes look conflicted again, shadowed by feelings M/n can hardly recognize as a reflection of his own soul. The man brings his hands up to M/n’s own and takes them away from his cheeks, envelops them in the soft skin that feels too real.

“You just wanted me to listen to you, to hear you, right?” M/n tries to keep his smile on his face, but his muscles are heavy with grief and it’s too hard, “I couldn’t see beyond the thought that you were there to replace me because I was defected.” He slips one of his hands from his Jason’s. M/n place it at the back of the man’s neck, running his fingers through the fluffy hair there. His Jason latches his now free hand to M/n’s forearm, holding it tight.

“I miss you.”

Tears gather in Jason’s eyes and his lower lip trembles. He hasn’t cried in so long and, so sudden, he cries twice in a week. He tries to keep it in by biting his lower lip, but the sob, however muffled, still escapes the confines of his soul.

He wants to scream ‘I’m real! I’m here, stop crying, please! You are my brother, even though I thought you’ve hated me when I was alive!’ But he can’t bring himself to talk, he can’t bring himself to say anything as more quiet sobs escape his bitten lips.

“You feels so real…” M/n looks up at him with bigger eyes than the world, with an inner peace one would only have in the happiest of dreams, pain seeping in at the edges. Is this a dream? It might be a dream. Jason always thinks he’ll wake up to stare at the inside of a coffin, six feet under. “But you always feel real. You always feel so real, and I always wish I weren’t. Maybe if I weren’t, you’d still be here.” A sob finally escapes his brother’s lips as well, pain winning over. “Maybe, then, everything would be alright again… You know, for the longest time dad couldn’t even look me in the eyes. You meant the world to him, you still do.”

Jason lets go of his lower lip and lets the sobs free, not able to hold back anymore. He feels like a child again. He didn’t get to be a child, didn’t get to cry and to be held and he feels rage because he wants it, he wants it so bad.

Jason wants to have the warmth of his childhood, not just some half assed memories of good for nothing parents who left him and closer memories—a big brother who has the biggest smile, another brother who looks at him like his world is smaller just for Jason’s existence (not knowing that, to Jason, M/n was the one who made the world bigger), a butler who always knows what to say and a father who gives him something his real parents could never.

All the rage he felt, all the rage he kept inside himself for years after being brought back to a world that he no longer belonged in was being brought forth and he felt like a child. His dad never avenged him, his killer is still out there, but how can he hate the man that loved him so much Jason felt like the whole world was his? How can he possibly understand what that man thought and felt? His brother, whom Jason always thought hated him with everything in his soul, is here in front of him, talking about Jason like Jason is M/n’s entire world, like he wishes he was dead instead.

Why did Jason die? Why did Jason have to die?

The little boy in him, the little boy that cries and cries and hasn’t stopped crying, needs Jason to let go of his rage. But how can he do that? How could he ever do that?

Jason looks down towards M/n’s hand that is still in his grasp and squeezes it to his cheek as Jason leans forward to M/n’s chest. He falls to the ground and, even with his body being larger than his brother’s, he feels so small and on the verge breaking.

“Why did I die?” M/n frees his arms and wraps them around Jason’s shivering form. “Why did I have to die?” Jason closes his eyes and feels the warmth of his brother’s body. His body is rotting around him and the world doesn’t feel real, but the brother who had never wanted him feels the realest anyone ever has.

Jason realizes M/n is shaking as well. “I don’t know. I’m sorry it had to be you,” M/n squeezes Jason tighter, leaning into him as if wanting to keep him away from the world. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it was you.”

Why is M/n talking like Jason isn’t real? This is real life, right? If this is a dream and Jason has to wake up again after this, he doesn’t think he’ll live. He won’t make it.

“I’m real, M/n, please believe me, I’m real” Jason rubs his face into M/n’s shirt, staining it even more with his tears, “I’m real, I’m real, please I’m real” Jason repeats it like a prayer, he is praying to the God that has abandoned him, praying because he wants it so badly to be real. Because he doesn’t feel real. Not anymore.

“I’m scared that soon there might be nothing left for you to miss.”

@tkiesai

Part 1:

#male reader #batfam #angst #jason todd #bruce wayne #roy harper #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #dick grayson #roy harper x reader #roy harper x male reader #batman #reader #dc universe #sad jason todd

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inthelittlewood · 5 months

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do you get reminded of your real old series much anymore? im a fan from when you did your ni no kuni: wrath of the white witch playthrough, and i tend to put that playlist on when i'm not feeling jazzy. i expect folks are talking more about Evo than anything else, esp on tumblr given our love of that series and extrapolating its lore, but does anyone ever bring up kingdom of the saplings or yogbox or any of the old yogs smps (did... did we even call em smps back then??)? folks were mentioning the christmas advent-ure in the chunklock stream, but that one might just be because it was an amazing series and its that time of year. just wondering, because being a content creator (as yuck as the job title can be) is a real unique position and ya have a LOOOOOT of content the younglets these days might not know of.

happy holidays by the way ! all love and respect from indiana (USA)

Oh for sure! I've had so many different 'arcs' in my career, which has now spanned over a decade so when I meet people it's such a variety of nostalgia mentions

Minecraft, The Escapists, Zelda (numerous), Mario Maker, Fortnite, Overwatch, Jet Set Radio, Ni No Kuni, VRChat, Pokémon, the PO Box and loads more

I'm glad I was on it with making playlists of my series back in the day because it makes them easy to find on that tab of the Fortnite channel nowadays

I'm incredibly grateful for people's support for this long. I still don't know when the bubble is gonna burst 😅

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wayfayrr · 5 months

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I can't believe that I almost missed Sky's aniversary!!! happpy twelvth birthday to skyward sword! <3 I'd just like to say thank you to @yourlocaltreesimp for reblogging something that reminded me that today is the boys birthday - this peice is all because of them I wrote it in 40 mins so sky could have something for his bd before the date changes It's a continuation on my self aware sky fic with some headcanons and a small drabble under the cut about how the both of you celebrate his birthday <3

[masterlist]

✦ After about a month and a half of being with you, the both of you are quite used to living together. With Sky getting a grip on how to handle being a real flesh and blood person now - the both of you have even started on getting paperwork sorted for him to be recognised as a real person even if he’s never seen apart from your side

✦ The past few days though he’s had this energy around him, like a little kid excited for their - oh that's right, you’d almost forgotten the anniversary of his game was coming up. No wonder why he’d be so excited about it.

✦ In the time it’s taken you to realise the date he’s taken his chance to be a little more clingy, you can blame nostalgia for him wanting to be closer. The feeling of the day he was created making him come to terms with just how lucky he was to be standing right next to you - his saviour lover.

✦ If you were to do anything for him, say buy him gifts, treat him to an expensive meal, take him for a date, set aside the day for him or heck even spend the morning in bed cuddling with him? He’d fall for you all over just being flattered to the core over how much you care about him, if there was even a sliver of a chance of him loosing his possessive tendencies before that chance is shattered beyond repair now. You’re his and he’s never letting go.

✦ with how nostalgic he’s gotten, it’s not all that much of a surprise that he’s asked if he can play through the game on his own, with you sitting right next to him naturally

“Are you sure about this Link? I mean I’ve not touched it since you well, since you crawled out. Who’s to say that he won’t figure it out as well?”

“It should be fine, what would be the odds of it happening twice? Besides if it does I’d bet he’ll feel the same way my dove.”

He’s not certain which is as clear as day, of course he doesn’t have a clue what could happen if he plays. What would happen if the version of himself he plays as hates him more than anything? If he gets jealous? If he tries to bring him back? Link hasn’t considered any of that, not that I can hold it against him. After that first day out of the game he’s mellowed out so much, it really was his desperation that made him terrifying - not that that doesn’t slip out every now and then of course. If he really wants to play? We’ll deal with the consequences of it together.

“If you’re really sure then love, want me to grab some snacks while you set up the switch?”

“I’d love that, thank you, darling.”

A soft kiss to my cheek is all that I need to become a blushing mess as he moves to turn everything on, including the new tv I had to buy after he shattered the old one, not too expensive but still more of a hassle than I wanted to have to deal with. Seeing as he’s never had any previous experience with any technology like this he’s picked it up like a natural, so in no time at all we’re back to sitting together on my couch to play. It’s nice like this, all gentle and domestic. If you didn’t know Link wasn’t originally a ‘real’ person you wouldn’t even be able to tell, he fits in like he was always supposed to be here with me. The clothes he’s nicked only adding onto that feeling of belonging like he’s just any other boyfriend stealing his partner's clothes.

“Guess now is the moment of truth to whether or not I’ll be dealing with another nuisance stealing my heart then.”

“I wouldn’t let him take your heart, that belongs to me and only me.”

“Alright then, are you gonna make a save then my lovable anomaly or are you just gonna threaten someone you’re not sure even exists?”

“I’m making it my dearest player, I just had to make sure you were fully certain of where I stand.”

True to his word, he did make a save file - although he did name it something different than his own name - not before kissing me yet again though. Playing it with him was nice, seeing his reactions to his past where he didn’t have to get traumatised? It’s one of the sweetest things I've seen in a long while. It did seem I was right though, he didn’t manage to get to demise before we had a shocked link staring at the both of us like his world had been ripped apart. His reaction was so different to my link’s though.

He’s petrified.

“Wh- What’s going on - who are you both – wh- wh-” … “And why do you look just like me?”

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #lu sky #self aware au #self aware lu #moss✦writes

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room13 · 1 year

Text

Doll House

Soft!Tangerine x Pregnant Reader

+18, small angst, unedited

A/N: Ever since I watched Bullet Train I can’t keep this man out of my head. I’ve been trying to get back to writing so I apologize if this isn’t my best work.

Clear and warm droplets slid down your skin, molding to your body. It glides through your curves like a river that shapes itself around the rocks as it follows its course to the next village.

The warmth of the shower did nothing to appease the lack of him, if anything, it only improved your body’s hunger for his touch, its agonizing abstinence now that he’s away.

Tangerine was the master of your heartbreaks. Similar to a dealer that gives you a free sample of his product to get you hooked, he worked his magic on your body once and it was your end, you knew there was no turning back after tasting him.

And here is where you stand now, in the middle of your path, unable to move on from him but also powerless to walk away. The shower water began to run cold and with an unsatisfied sigh you turned it off before walking back to your bedroom.

The burning orange hues in the sky shone a faint light through the window on top of your white comforter, the ethereal-like glow didn’t bring you the usual happiness, instead, it only brought the nostalgia of the times Tangerine had your body beneath his spell on top of that very same bed.

“Aren’t warm showers supposed to cheer you up?” The unmistakable light tenor’s voice echoed from behind you, making you look over your shoulder to find the reason of your misery sitting on the foot of your bed.

You did your best to keep your timber as nonchalant as possible “Weren’t you supposed to be in Milan?” the question left your lips as your eyes kept glued to his clear blue irises.

“You, more than anyone, should know that I’m full of surprises, love” The taunting smirk you learned to love and hate so much was plastered to his lips, the wicked gleam upon his eyes didn’t hide his true intentions as they roamed through your towel covered body.

Turning your back to him once more, your hands opened the underwear drawer with a sigh “Leave, Tangerine. I don’t want you here”

His eyes squinted and uncertainty laced his heart. You’ve never refused or kicked him out before…something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be happy to see me” Even though he tried to mask the hint of hurt behind a cold voice, you could still hear it as clear as day.

“Oh, I’m sorry I hit your fragile ego” The scoff that followed your sentence only made Tangerine even more confused, you’ve never acted like this before. You were always ecstatic to see him, excited to spend time together and now it seems like you were facing your worst enemy. Tangerine could feel the worst part of his temper beginning to rise to the surface, begging him to counterattack with enough harshness to make it hurt. But Lemon’s words at the airport resonated in his mind “You don’t attract bees with vinegar, mate. You gotta honey it up. Go easy on her”. Making him stand up from the bed and walking towards you.

Tangerine’s hand covered yours around the simple pair of black cotton panties and slowly turned you around to face him. “Do you really want me to leave?” The crystal clear orbs searched for the answer in your eyes, knowing that unlike your lips, they were unable to lie to him.

Your eyes closed for an instant, momentarily shutting him out before your head came to rest on his chest. The unmistakable scent of his white dress shirt, the usual mixture of fresh laundry detergent and his cologne suddenly made you feel at peace for once.

“You can’t keep doing this, Tan. I’m not gonna make it if you keep this up”

The coldness of his rings brushed against your cheek when his hands cupped your face. Pulling your face towards his, Tangerine’s mustache tickled your upper lip as he spoke “Keep what up, darling?” His warm breath covered your skin like a familiar blanket “You know I love you, poppet. You know no one would ever make me do half of the things I do for you”.

Tangerine’s tongue traced your bottom lip, testing your limits and silently asking for your permission to keep going. Your teeth clasped around Tangerine’s lip, pulling the soft flesh into your mouth.

His arms closed around your waist, gluing your breasts against his chiseled chest. Tangerine broke the kiss before he pressed his forehead against yours “You know I’ve never wanted none of this before you” His hands came down to rest on your baby bump “The marriage, the commitment, the baby…all of this I want because it’s with you, love. All I do is for you and our little bean” A soft smile appeared on Tangerine’s lips at the mention of the life growing inside of you “I love you more than anything and all I ask is for you to be patient with me, darling. I’m not used to any of this and I’m just asking for your help. Help me not fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me, help me to be a good man to you, poppet”.

Your hands caressed Tangerine’s soft chestnut hair, twirling one of the loose curls around your finger. “You are a good man to me, Tan. The best man I’ve ever had. I just want you to think a little before you do or say some things because most of the time you end up hurting people who love and care about you”.

“I know, poppet. I know” He kissed your forehead lightly “I’ll be better, I promise”

Tangerine softly placed you down on the bed, covering your body with his own soon after.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered against your parted lips.

“I always forgive you, Tan”

Tangerine’s fingers intertwined with yours before pinning your hands on top of your head.

#tangerine x y/n #tangerine x reader #tangerine x plus size reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fluff #tangerine bullet train #tangerine blurb #bullet train #bullet train x you #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine #bullet train fanfic #room 13 tales

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 2 months

Text

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iv.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

You hum in pleasant surprise when the taste of green apples and mango hit your tongue. This really could have been hit or miss, you sip again. Still as good as the first sip. Just because you like experimenting with food and drink, it doesn't necessarily mean there will be a good payoff. Fruit teas from random shops are always either too sweet or just right for you, never something tolerable in between.

Thankfully, this place understood that the sugar is only supposed to enhance the drink, not drown it. You look over at the tall and lanky boy a few short steps away. Tea isn't Gojou's thing, hence why he is the only member of the group who hadn't ordered anything, but you think this one will be right up his alley. "You've gotta try this," you angle the cup slightly above your shoulder. "It's this green apple mango flavor they're promoting."

Without taking the cup from your hand, Gojou simply leans down to take a drink. "It's alright," Gojou shrugs before sipping again with vigor. "Needs more sugar."

You snort and lean away, bringing your beverage with you, "well if it's only alright, stop drinking it then."

"You know," Gojou sighs and you already know it's going to be some bullshit spewed out of his mouth coated in false philosophy and maturity. "Here in Japan we have a saying that food tastes better when you share it."

You roll your eyes but grin at the fact you called it, "well we just shared it and it still tastes exactly the same so," when Gojou attempts to take your cup, you turn immediately. "You better follow your best friend's example and get inside that tea house and order yourself a drink!"

Gojou slumps over your back with a whine, "what if yours tastes better than mine for some reason and they give me a bad one?"

You're giggling but no dice, "no!" You shove your straw back into your mouth and lean over your drink protectively. Get your own drink, you point at the tea shop once again with a mumble. "You have pretty privilege, there is no way they'll fuck yours up!"

"Stingy," Gojou clicks his tongue but he drags himself across the street where Suguru is standing in line anyway.

Crisis avoided.

"... What was that?" Utahime's eyes widen while her brow furrows.

It's a chilly April day in Moriya and the lot of you are enjoying the last bits of spring vacation. School holidays work differently when you go to a jujutsu school, you learned quickly. As far as the higher ups were concerned, vacation just meant more free time to send students on missions. Sure you're in a completely different part of Japan doing a lot more traveling than you'd ever do in your typical high school experience.

But in reality, this trip to a ryokan in Ibaraki Prefecture is nothing more than a glorified work trip with sightseeing sprinkled in. They could have at least sent us to a coastal town if they were sending us to Ibaraki. You shouldn't expect much from an institute that still does school on Saturday when the rest of the country stopped doing it in 2002. At the very least, the mission had been wrapped up and this final week of spring break before the new school year started, you get to enjoy yourself.

Next week, I become a second year student, you did it. You managed to survive your very first year at Jujutsu Tech. You'll miss having Fujioka-sensei as a teacher, she was kind and had lots of fun anecdotes. But you can't stew in awe and nostalgia with how Utahime is staring at you like you've lost your mind.

"What was what? It's green apple mango fruit tea," you cock your head before sliding your cup to the traditionally-clothed girl's side of the table. "Wanna try it too?"

Utahime promptly slides it back in disgust. "After he put his mouth on it? No thanks," you only shrug in return before sipping at the fruity goodness all over again. That's more for me then. Your nonchalance drives your upperclassman into mania. She looks at Shoko like she's the only other sane person at the table. 'What the heck is going on?!' her lips move silently. "Why am I the only one freaking out about this!?"

The brunette holds up a hand in the most laidback display of defensiveness you've ever seen, "they've been like that for a while now, everyone just got used to it." Shoko's words only make Utahime's more aghast.

Oh right.

That.

You smack your lips together with a weak laugh, avoiding your friend's accusatory gaze.

Something shifted in the cosmos after December 8th, 2005 without your meaning to. You aren't exactly sure how long it took after your birthday for sharing food with Gojou to become habit, but it did.

Something is too sweet or too spicy? You swap plates.

You get an assorted bag of snacks and sweet treats from helping a random grandma cross the street? There isn't really a point of keeping any of the stuff you know Gojou will like.

But you never realized how ingrained into normalcy it became until one particular day you leaned over to eat a chip Gojou held in his fingers. "Does this taste kinda soapy to you or is it just me?" He asked, shaking the bag it came from. They were roasted cumin lamb skewer flavored chips imported from China.

"Yeah, I think it's just- wait, give me another one?" You chewed more slowly that time around, really feeling at the flavor. "No, I'm getting it too."

Suguru and Shoko made faces that looked exactly like the one Utahime is wearing right now. "[First]!"

"Look it isn't like we're friends or anything," you tell the soon to be fourth-year. "When there is food involved, the We Hate Gojou Alliance calls forth a truce," you explain seriously, folding your hands and resting your chin on them as if you are Ikari Gendo. "For how can we hate if we are not properly nourished?"

At the bullshit you spew, Utahime's expression shifts into one that is purely unamused as her brow furrows and she purses her lips. It takes a lot out of you to not laugh then and there. "And since when was that an addendum we agreed on?"

"It's one I made out of personal interest," you close your eyes, nodding at the memories. Food comes before any quarrel you have with an annoying classmate. If it came down to it, you'd become Gojou's best friend for a sandwich. "When food is involved, Gojou Satoru isn't that bad."

"You're full of it," Utahime fights the twitches of her lips trying to curl upward. "Very, very full of it." The upperclassman relents with a sigh a beat later, knowing her arguments are futile. "You're a traitor. I hope you know that you're a traitor to our cause, [First]," you bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing again. You're failing the longer she goes on. Shoko is your mission partner, but you think it is arguably fair to say Utahime is who you're closest to besides her. When you transferred to Jujutsu Tech, it was Utahime who gave you a tour around the facility when the teachers were suddenly too busy. She was a kind and beautiful upperclassman who came with a lot less monetary baggage than Mei Mei. "First Getou and Shoko, now you," she sips her matcha with a pointed glare in the direction of the tea house windows. Whatever Gojou does, it makes Utahime's amused scowl turn into an annoyed glare.

"I was technically never part of any alliance to hate on Gojou, I'm only an affiliated acquaintance," Shoko laughs lightly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Utahime-senpai, you just have to accept this as part of the new reality. [First] and Gojou have become friends," your mission partner rolls her eyes when you shoot her a pointed look. "Apologies, food-based acquaintances."

Satisfied with her correction, you nod.

It's then Suguru finally reappears, a beverage in hand. Gojou is still waiting by the window for his own order to finish. "What are you guys talking about now?"

"I was telling them about this convenience store by my old high school everyone went to to have mental breakdowns," it's always a pleasure when Suguru looks at you like you've grown a second head. Laughter slips from your lips as easily as breathing. "It's called Adachi's ー that's the owner ー but the joke was to call it Adachi 7-11 because it rips off the 7-11 color scheme. He's a sweet guy though," you quickly add before continuing your spontaneous tale of the incredible 7-11 knock off store.

You eloquently tell your friend that Adachi is the kind of grownup who understand kids have it rough. That it's unknown who it was from Tsubame High that started the tradition of finding aisle to just sit and cry and snack in, but eventually it just became the spot to have freak outs. If you stayed to eat while you freaked, you simply paid for what you ate or drank when you were ready to leave.

Respect someone else's crying space. If you couldn't avoid going into their aisle for something, just politely pretend they don't exist.

If you really needed a cry, Adachi's office is free for someone having a particular trying time.

And last but not least, Adachi's was a judgement free zone.

It was like having a bartender for teenagers. Except in this instance, the only services the bartender offered were snack food, cheap wagashi and a select variety of beverages.

"First, I promise people don't go there to cry as often it I made it sound. Second, I know it sounds weird but it actually was kinda cool," you chuckle as the cursed user shakes his head the longer you go on. "Exam week? We're all basically in there studying and freaking out while eating a bunch of snacks." It really built up a surprising amount of comradery among your classmates you make sure to tack on before taking a break to finish the rest of your tea. "Before you ask, if I'm gonna have a mental breakdown, I prefer having it in the privacy of my own room," or in front of a beluga whale, but that explanation will take forever and a half. "And that... is the story behind Adachi 7-11," you conclude dramatically.

Suguru shakes his head but his expression is playful, "I give you points for the improv, but I'm taking away points for how long your story was."

You click your tongue in mock annoyance, "everybody's a critic. I just wanted to cover all the bases in case you felt so intrigued you wanted to know more about your mysterious classmate."

"You don't have a mysterious bone in your body," Shoko chirps and when you lightly kick her ankle under the table, she kicks back. "Utahime-senpai just feels betrayed that [First] is getting along better with Gojou." At the reminder, Utahime squints in your direction again. 'And after all I've done for you. I should have gone to Kyoto Tech', Utahime sighs into her warm cup. "The We Hate Gojou Alliance is turning into the I Alone Hate Gojou Alliance."

This is when Gojou finally saunters over, drink in hand, "that's because I'm cool and charming."

"You know, if you have to say it, you're probably not as charming as you think you are," Suguru advises with a grin. Gojou promptly ignores it as if he never said anything at all.

"Sucks to be you, Utahime," Gojou sticks out his tongue at the songstress. "[First] and I are practically best friends. Right, [First]?"

The more you deny it, the less convincing you know you sound so you stop with a heavy breath. "Anyway," you pivot the conversation to something other than your food-based truce. "Does anyone know if there are going to be any new 1st years? Or is it gonna be a while before we start seeing some new faces?"

Suguru nods, "I heard from Fujioka-sensei that there are two first years coming enrolling," you perk up at this information. It's a small jujutsu world, so small you didn't even know if you'd be getting any underclassmen. Two 1st years coming in still just seem so small though. From what you've learned though, 2-3 students per grade is average and the school lucked out with your 1st year class having four kids. Suguru points a finger back and forth between you, "she didn't tell me much about them but they're recruits from non-sorcerer families, like us."

Sometimes, life decides to grant you little miracles. "Finally, we're growing in our ranks," you cheer, bumping your cup against Suguru's. "That's less clan politics to hear about!"

The closest you've ever gotten to clan politics in Japan were from anime and dramas and the occasional snippets you learned about the imperial family on the news. That changed when you became a sorcerer. It's a small jujutsu world, you learn things here and there whether you want to or not. Interesting as the stories can be, however, you're glad your family is normal. Everyone at your school from a sorcerer family makes clan politics sound annoying at best and harrowing at worst and that's just from the things you learned from Utahime, Shoko and Mei Mei.

Your other peers aren't so keen on sharing what goes on in their families.

Yamada isn't the friendliest of your upperclassmen.

As for Gojou ー the only one of your classmates from a family apparently worth mentioning ー he doesn't care about clan politics in the slightest and opts to ignore it.

Thus, the Big Three Families still are a mystery to you even with Gojou's close proximity to your person. Nor are there any students at your school that came from either the Zenin or Kamo Clans. There are a couple enrolled at the jujutsu school in Kyoto apparently but you haven't had a chance to meet them. You only had three summaries to go off of when it came to the big name families in jujutsu, all courtesy of Gojou back in May of last year since you couldn't participate in the Sister School Exchange Event in Kyoto.

(Apparently having two special-grade sorcerers for students gave Tokyo Tech the biggest advantage so only Gojou and Suguru got to go. Jerks. Utahime threw a big fit over it too, but at the very least Tokyo won last year.)

"Do you like having rights as a woman?"

"Um, yes?"

"Then you won't like the Zenin Clan. You know Carnage from the Venom comics in the States?"

"Yeah, my mom reads those."

"That's the Kamo Clan."

"Okay, well what about your family? What's their deal?"

"They have me."

Vague, but clear enough descriptions to paint the necessary pictures ー the Amazing Sexists, the Bloods and the Jujutsu Jesus Havers Club.

Considering that this year the Sister School Exchange event will be taking place in Tokyo, you wonder if this will give you a chance to meet these fancy jujutsu folk. You tell your group as much, sighing in wonder. "It's a good thing you and Gojou won the exchange event, I wanna meet the kids from the other school." That was what you'd been most excited about before Fujioka-sensei dashed all your hopes and dreams. You wanted to see the differences in the campuses and what sort of crazy the teachers had going on. C'est la vie. "What were they like when you went there? Were the big clan kids more refined than Gojou over here?"

You barely dodge the definitely cold hand that was about to touch back of your neck in retaliation while Suguru chuckles out an explanation, "They have a couple folk from the Kamo Clan. They were... nice."

"You hesitated before you said nice," Shoko deadpans.

"They were polite," Suguru pivots his next selection of words in his attempt to remain neutral.

Gojou sticks out his tongue, unimpressed by his best friend's attempts to be cordial, "they were whatever. We didn't really talk to them."

"Boo, you're boring," you shake your head in heavy but mocking disappointment. "Should have just asked Utahime, she's seen them more." Your gazes turn to the oldest person at the table.

Utahime shoulders square off in satisfaction at being deferred to. "There are a couple of Kamo Clan kids at Kyoto Tech, one of them won't be coming because he'll be a fourth year student like me," her spirit drops for a moment and you offer a small smile of reassurance. Fourth year students don't get to participate in Sister School Exchange Event. Hence why she'd been so upset that she'd been unable to participate in it. There's not much you can do to comfort your friend, nor is there anything either of you can do about the past. At the very least, Utahime is nothing if not an optimist. She'll just kick ass in a different category. "As for the younger Kamo, Ririka, she's actually pretty nice when you talk to her but she can be a bit intimidating at times. She'll be a third-year student once school starts."

You make a noise of pleasant surprise, "Kamo Ririka, I'll keep an eye out for her." There's nothing better than a nice but intimidating woman, in your opinion.

"As for everyone else, they're all definitely a lot more tolerable than Gojou, it's not even a competition," Utahime glared at the sunglasses-wearing boy pointedly. He shrugged back without a care in the world, unperturbed as ever. "But while I was visiting home, my mother told me that Zenin Naoya is enrolling in Kyoto Tech so we'll be seeing him in a few months as a first year."

Whoever Zenin Naoya is, just mentioning him immediately makes Gojou groan in annoyance. "I was hoping that brat was gonna get homeschooled," he chews on his straw. You aren't sure how irritated he actually is but you do note how white brows curl in displeasure.

Gojou makes a face, "Zenin Naoya. I can't stand that guy."

You nudge him, lips curling into a light smirk, "I'm sure your fancy rich kid beef isn't that serious."

"No, Gojou actually isn't being hyperbolic this time," you glance over at Shoko. She and Utahime are sporting matching grimaces, brown eyes glancing at one another in understanding. "Zenins are bad but Zenin Naoya is the worst."

Well god damn. You share a look with Suguru who shrugs back, just as lost. That's the problem with not being born into the world of jujutsu, you're behind on all the history and beef going on behind the scenes. You have to learn little by little whether that be through being told or stumbling your way into procuring the knowledge on your own.

Zenin Naoya ー a member of the Amazing Sexists. You glance back at Gojou who has gone back to drinking away at his cup of tea. His partially obscured face doesn't make it any easier to read how he may be feeling underneath the surface.

Either way, you'll form your own opinion on this Naoya person when the sister schools converge in Tokyo.

Second year is definitely going to be something.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra:

Fun fact for my fellow Americans and anyone else whose school holidays work differently, while here in the states, the end of summer vacation is when we go up a grade, students go up a grade at the end of spring break in Japan.

Summer vacation in Japan is about 30-40 days long depending on the prefecture from the end of July to the end of August. In Tokyo, I think it's from about July 21st to to August 24th. You come back and you're still in the same class. Winter break is from about December 26 to January 7th. And Spring break is about March 26th to April 5th. Like I said it can change prefecture to prefecture, but the mentioned dates are the standard for Tokyo give or take a few days or two depending on the ward.

Just wanted that knowledge to be shared, if you were curious as to why the reader is going up a grade after spring break. In Japan, the school year starts in April.

I really wanted to work on Reader's initial dynamic with her peers and her personal philosophies in these first few chapters before kicking off into the heavier stuff that comes in 2nd year. Considering how in canon, shit pretty much was smooth sailing for Gojou and co. during their 1st year until the 'Toji really beat the breaks out of 2 teenagers' mission, I wanted to reflect that in these initial chapters. Hopefully you guys have been enjoying it as much as I have. The Sister School Exchange Event is around the corner and those folks are coming to Tokyo, I wonder how that's gonna go >:3c (not that you can participate but there's plot, I assure you).

#look she's writing #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #i cherish you halcyon days #utahime finally makes a proper appearance #and naoya gets a mention we love/hate to see it

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ssturniolo · 9 months

Note

Chris meeting your family for the first time and he loves playing with your younger sisters and cousins?? Plss

Tea-time

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - after being nervous to meet the fam, Chris realizes its easier than he thought.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - foul language, I think that’s it

Glancing over to the passenger seat of her car, y/n examines Chris’s nervous features. “It’s ok Chris, my parents are gonna love you” she says, refocusing her attention on the road.

Looking up at her, Chris let’s out a nervous laugh. “I’m not worried about your parents, it’s the little ones that are scaring me” he says, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Oh come on, they’ll love you too” y/n reassures him, stretching one of her hands across the center counsel, to rest on Chris’s constantly moving one’s. Knowing that Chris plays with his fingers when he’s nervous, y/ns eyes soften.

“I pinky promise” she says quietly, holding her pinky in the air, waiting for Chris to link his.

Slowly, a smile forms across Chris’s lips as he raises his pinky to interlock with hers. “Ok, but if they don’t, I’m actually gonna kill you” he jokes, grabbing ahold of her hand as her house comes into view.

“Home sweet home” she whispers to no one in particular walking up to the door, pausing before leading Chris into her childhood home.

After introducing Chris to her parents, and non-immediate family members, y/n notices her little sister peeking from around the corner. Bending down, y/n calls for her sister knowing her little cousin couldn’t be too far behind. The two giggling girls run up to y/n, tackling her in a hug.

“This is my boyfriend Chris!” She says cheerily, as Chris awkwardly waves.

After a moment of silence, her little cousin grabs ahold of Chris’s hand, leading him into the playroom, closely followed by her sister. Giggling, y/n tells Chris she’ll be back, before bringing all of their belongings up to her old room.

This is the first time y/n had been home in a long time, so she spent some time looking through her old stuff, being hit with waves of nostalgia.

Remembering she had left Chris alone with the two little ones, y/n ran down the stairs stopping outside the playroom door.

She looked in, only to find Chris sitting in a very small chair at her sisters tea table. He was dressed in a pink tutu, with a glimmering silver tiara atop his head. Holding a plastic teacup in his hand, he conversed with the two girls, also dressed up like princesses.

Y/n’s little sister noticing her at the door, she ran over, a huge smile plastered to her face. “Look, look y/n! It’s princess Chrissy!” She squealed, leading y/n to the table by the hand. Now being close to Chris, y/n could see the pink, sparkly blush, poorly applied to his cheeks and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh my god, this shits funny” y/n said, pulling out her phone to snap a picture of her newly glammed boyfriend.

“Excuse me ma’am, but we don’t use that kind of language during tea-time” Chris replied, taking an imaginary sip out of the plastic tea-cup. The two girls burst into a fit of giggles, rolling around on the floor.

Laughing, y/n crawled over to Chris wrapping her arms around his neck. “I told you they’d love you” she whispered into his ear.

“What can I say, I’m good with kids” he replied, that goofy grin she loves so much spreading across his face.

“Of course you are love” she says, walking over to the costume bin to get rightly accessorized.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

100 followers? That’s crazy! I write to clear my mind, and it’s always been a safe space for me, so to think people actually enjoy my stories is amazing. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed, please send more requests I’m out! (Also happy birthday to the sturniolos again lol)

XOXO - Zoe

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #fypage #imagine #family #boyfriend #cute guy #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #happy birthday

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whatyadrawin · 1 month

Text

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 11-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,545 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Sexual language, foul language, use of a slur, depictions of violence. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: This chapter was an intense write, I flew through it and the momentum continued right into chapter 12. I sort of rushed the art a little due to having a bunch of exams lined up this month plus assignments so please be patient. Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1

Chapter 11

Charlie made you stay on the property close to the house, if you needed to leave in order to work the orchard or check on the construction on your home, you had to bring him or Tommy along with you. After you told Charlie about the incident, both he and Tommy searched the property for clues, footprints, anything to be able to try and identify who it may have been hiding in the forest that night, but they always came back with nothing. It was as if the shadow person really was just a shadow and nothing more, but you knew what you saw, you saw its form very clearly in the dark of the night.

It had been three days since you told Charlie about it, Luda Mae was on edge worrying about you and your safety. Tommy was also being overly protective of you, he watched you everywhere you went when you were outside, he made you join him in the barn to have you near him while he tended to the animals, you didn’t mind spending the extra time near him.

Today was no different from the rest, the sun was bright in the sky with a cloudless expanse of blue surrounding it. You spent a lot of the morning doing laundry, as you finished hanging up the last of the garments on the outside hang line, you heard a call from Luda Mae,

“Hun, can you come in here when your good and done that laundry?”

You respond in agreement, the final clothespin now tightly pinching one of Tommy’s massive white shirts. You step down from the stool and admire the clothes swaying in the gentle breeze, you felt a certain nostalgia for hanging clothes, your grandmother used to have you help her hang the laundry on the line when you were small, and you never forgot the fresh smell of the outside air on the clothes when you took them down for folding.

You walked into the kitchen from the backdoor with the empty laundry basket in hand, Luda Mae was dressed to leave the house, she grabbed her purse and turned to look for you,

“Oh, there you are. I need to go to the gas station today. Charlie’s gon’ drop me off, then he has to go to town and get some things.” She walks over to grab her sun hat which hung on the wall, and continued,

“Thomas’ gonna be out in the barn with them cows while we’re away, one of ‘em needs a hoof trim so he’s gon’ be a while. Can you stay inside ‘til we’re back? I don’t want to risk you gettin’ hurt by some weirdo or nothin’”

You follow her to the main entrance, you felt compelled to ask,

“Shouldn’t I just stay outside with Tommy?”

Luda Mae is now already opening the door, Charlie is honking the horn in the distance to push her along,

“I just wanna be sure you’re safe hun, it’s mighty boring watchin’ a man shave a hoof down, n’ it takes forever to do.” She opens the door to leave but turns and says some final words,

“Every door in this house is locked, as soon as I close this one make sure to lock it and check the door you came in as well. If you’re in the house at least I know you won’t be messed with. I’ll be back in a few hours hun.”

She shut the door and ran to the idling truck while Charlie reamed her out for taking so long. You lock the door as she asked, and head to the kitchen to lock the back door as instructed. You sigh and look out the window at Tommy who was pushing one of the cows’ legs into the holster to prop it up for the trim -I guess I can go to my room and read for a bit-. When you entered your room, you noticed a bit of dust floating in the air, you decide to open the window to let fresh air inside. You went over to one of the bookshelves in the room and picked out a book you never got to finish from high school titled ‘Island of the Blue Dolphins’.

You lay down on your bed to start the book from the first chapter, each sentence reminded you of the past. The book took you out of your head and into someone else’s world, a story from history retold. As you continued to read you grew tired, your eyelids became heavy and before you could put the book down, you were out like a light.

Tommy was still working on the cow, he was gentle and sliced thin sheets off the keratinous layer keeping in mind the comfort level of the cow. He was at it for over an hour, he decided the cow had enough and deserved to take a break. He unhooked the leg and brought the cow out to the pasture with the others, he watched as it happily bounced away to go find a moist patch of grass to munch on. He missed you, and wanted to check in to see what you were up to and get a glass of water while he was inside.

Tommy unlocked the door to the kitchen and poured himself some water which he guzzled down in an instant, as he filled the cup again, he called out to you but there was no answer; Finishing the next glass of water, Tommy went to look for you, calling your name as he moved through each room, but there was never an answer. He felt a chill go up his spine and began searching more frantically, loudly yelling out to you in hopes you were on another floor. He went to your room and knocked on the door, no answer.

Tommy opened the door and looked around the room, he saw your bed was messed up and the window was wide open. You were gone. He screamed for you, running all over the house in case he was wrong about his assumptions but each room he checked was met with dead silence and no one to see. He ran outside, the barn was the first place to look, nothing. He ran to the wheat field, searched around each corner including inside the silo, nothing. He looked in the car graveyard, opening the doors and trunks, searching under the cars, nothing. The final place was the pond, he ran as quick as possible, he looked through the trees and all around the surrounding forest, he searched the dock and the water, nothing again.

Tommy felt like his world was collapsing in on him, he couldn’t find you anywhere, you were taken from him and he wasn’t there to stop it, he was brimming with rage at his failure to protect you. Now that you were missing, Tommy was hell bent on finding you, he would search to the ends of the earth if he had to, he won’t stop until you are in his arms again.

You woke up in a dark room, it was lit dimly with old string lights. The ceiling and walls of the room were made of dirt, like they had been dug into by a shovel, the walls were reinforced by wood beams that the string of the lights would loop around. You felt exhausted, you could barely keep your eyes open and your vision was going in and out of blurriness. You felt like you were laying down on a hard surface, it was cold in this place, -am, I dreaming? Where am I?- You were too exhausted to panic, when you tried to lift your arm to rub your eyes, you realize you couldn’t, you were unable to move your whole body, the best you could manage was just curling your toes or twitching your fingers.

You groan to see if you could speak, you were able to squeak out a noise thankfully. You hear footsteps coming towards where you lay, a smell follows when the footsteps drew close, body odor, really bad body odor. You push out some words,

“Hhhwho, whos…there?” it was weak but audible.

You hear the footsteps come close to you, a chuckle rattles into your ears, someone walks up to your side and looks down at you, their face is too blurry to make out, they speak,

“Nice o’ you t’wake up.”

The voice was familiar, but you struggled to think of the person it reminded you of, you squeeze out another question,

“Hhhh…hhhwho?”

The person kneels down and gets really close to your face, its Dover. You grumble and try to move to get away but he laughs as you struggle.

“Recognize me now dontcha bitch?” his words were pointed, he continues to speak,

“Finally caught ya when those freaks went away. They fucked up muh dang fire and now yer still alive. I intend t’change that.”

You squirm, tears start to roll from your eyes, -why can’t I move? Please let this just be a bad dream- you blink frantically, feeling like if you could just push yourself then somehow you could get out of there. Dover goes over to a shelf area and grabs some ropes, he comes back to you and starts tying your arms and legs down,

“I drugged ya while y’slept in yer nice cushy bed at the Hewitt house.” He ties your hands together and attached the rope to a pole that was behind you,

“Im gon’ wait ‘till it wears off so y’can get the full effect of what I’m gonna put ya through. Payback fer Tilly just up and givin’ everythin’ away t’some whore from Canada.” He ties your feet together and lifts you so you sit upright against the dirt wall next to were you lay.

He walked away and disappeared around the corner, all you could do was cry, as time passed you started to gain your movement back and were finally able to speak. You didn’t remember anything other than falling asleep in your bed with the book, you felt like you were in a waking nightmare. You tried to scream out for help, calling each of the Hewitt’s names in case either of them could hear you, tears streaming down your face as you yelled.

Dover returned, he mocked your screaming and crying and laughed when you stopped, he looked worse than usual, his beard had grown in and was yellowing already, he smelled like he hadn’t bathed in forever. You try to free yourself from your bonds but they were so tight it just cut into your skin the more you struggled, you look up at him as he stood over you, smirking, you ask,

“Why are you doing this?!”

He tilts his head back to chuckle to himself, then says,

“I deserve some fun b’fore I take up the deed to Tilly’s property, I earned it.”

You respond,

“Where did you go after the fire? And where the fuck am I?”

He kneels down to you, his rank smell overwhelming your senses,

“When I saw the fuckin’ Hewitts drivin’ up I had t’run, so I made my way out to an abandoned lot n’ dug this hole so’s I be able t’kill ya without no one knowin’ where I was.” He looked around and continued,

“Seems it worked. Oh, y’can scream all ya want here, no one’s gon’ hear ya.” He cackled and walked over to the table where he got the ropes from,

“Y’see, Im gon’ take pleasure in fuckin’ ya up. Maybe after I kill ya, I’ll give yer body t’the Hewitts, so they can eat it.”

You hang your head down, the tears dripping onto your legs,

“What the hell are you talking about? Just let me go! If you let me go, I won’t say anything to anyone, please!” you had to choke past your tears to speak, you were so scared of what was coming next, you continue to plead,

“Please let me go, please, I don’t want to die.”

Dover just laughs at you, he turns away from the table and is holding a knife, he inspects the edge of it with his thumb as he walks over to you,

“Y’think I’m stupid? I know If I let y’go, those cannibals’ll be after me.” He kneels down and starts to cut away your shirt exposing your bra,

“Y’gon be mighty uncomfortable in the cold down here. Ain’t no comfort comin’ t’ya. While yer awake and alive, you might as well know the truth ‘bout the freaks you lived with.”

You cut in, “What?”

He smirks and continues to tear away the rest of your shirt,

“Those Hewitts, used t’eat people back b’fore the orchard grew. The economy was down, real bad, everyone left town fer greener pastures. Not them though, those dumb fucks wouldn’t leave their big fancy house. Once the food went out n’ deliveries stopped, the animals starved n’ stopped producin’, they ate what animals were left ‘til there was none.” He looked up past his brows at you,

“That’s when they started eatin’ people. Travellin’ folks would be picked off when they came in town fer gas, killed ‘em all n’ cooked ‘em up fer dinner. That big retard one did most of the killin’, he’d slaughter ‘em all then butcher the bodies fer the meat. He’s evil with how many he killed.”

You just sat still, eyes wide,

“How do you know all this? Why didn’t they kill you?”

He ran the knife up your arm, tracing the tip over your skin, he said,

“I used t’be the one deliverin’ gas to the station, only reason they had a fuckin’ store t’begin with. Then when Tilly came round, she hired me on t’start up the orchard. She paid me t’keep quiet. None of it matters now anyway, I’m gon’ report them to the sherriff, and blame them fer ya dyin’”

You yell at him, “What makes you think they won’t hunt you down after I’m dead?”

He laughs,

“They ain’t gon’ get the chance, the sherriff’ll be called b’fore I leave this hole after I’m done with ya”

You start screaming again, as loud as you could just in case any of the Hewitts were nearby. Dover slaps you across the face,

“Save yer screams fer when the fun starts.”

The sting from his slap was panful, you already felt dizzy from the drugs he injected into you wearing off, the slap just made it all worse. You try to struggle again, hoping to possibly get loose form the rope, Dover was now cutting away at your shorts laughing at your efforts to escape,

“Struggle all ya want whore, yer never getting’ out of those knots.”

You curse at him,

“You fucking evil pig, what are you planning?”

He tears away the cloth from your shorts, now exposing your underwear, the chill of the room now giving your skin goosebumps, you feel so cold you shiver. He says,

“I’m gonna take y’apart, piece by piece.” He laughs to himself as he gets up to grab something off the table again.

You wriggle your hands back and forth; you start to feel the rope loosen so you continue steadily wriggling to help loosen it more. You watch Dover to make sure he still has his back turned, you were able to get your hands free, you start to untie your feet while watching Dover. You were able to loosen the rope on your feet and quickly placed your hands back to where they were, holding the rope with them so he didn’t know they were untied, he turned around and had a larger knife with him now.

He came and squatted down to look over your body, he touched your leg and ran his calloused hand up your thigh,

“Don’t know where t’start.” He said as he looked over your legs.

He placed the knifes edge on your collarbone, he pressed in and you winced in pain, he started laughing maniacally, his eyes closed tightly as he threw his head back with glee. Just as he exposed his neck, you punched him right in the Adams apple and he fell backward choking. He dropped the knife to his side as he held his throat, you picked it up and plunged it into his calf, it penetrated and sliced through his muscle and poked through the other side, he clenched his calf with his hands as he choked, trying to catch his breath.

You removed the rope fully from your feet and ran out of the area, you turned the corner and found a doorway made of scrap metal, you fling the door open and start running, barely able to see in front of you. The pathway was at an incline upwards, it led you to a dead end, you looked around for a door and spotted a ladder, you looked up and saw a wooden latch door. You frantically climbed the ladder and pushed up on the door, it opened up to a field with extremely tall grass, you were almost fully out of the hole when you felt a tug at your foot, Dover was behind you pulling you down, it made you fall to the ground above the latch door and he began to drag you into the hole, you screamed as loud as you could.

You were almost pulled in again but you landed a swift kick to Dover’s face with your free foot, he grunted in pain and fell backward into the hole, letting go of your foot. You closed the latch door and ran as fast as you could through the grass, you didn’t know where you were but you knew you needed to put distance between you and him. The sky was dark, it was already nightfall, you were grateful for the heat, it was warming your cold, exposed body. You snuck your way through the grass, being careful to not leave an obvious trail for Dover to find you. You hear his laugh,

“Im gon’ find you bitch! You can’t hide from me!” His words resonated loudly, he was nearby.

You crouch down low and quiet your movements to try and hide in the grass as best you could. You hear him shuffling haphazardly as he floundered around the brush. He was getting closer; you quietly move yourself to a denser area of the field and kneel down as low as possible. You listened for him, his footsteps were inching closer to you, you could hear his heavy breathing and sat as still and quiet as possible when you saw his legs through the strands of vegetation surrounding you,

“Come out lil’ piggy, I’m gonna getcha” he called out for you in a sing-song way, sounding even more unhinged than before.

He was now right next to where you were, you hitched your breath and lowered yourself further into the grass hoping for the best. After a few seconds of just hearing his heavy breathing, he moved on. You waited for a good minute and then when you couldn’t hear his movements again, you quietly snuck away. You continued moving in the same direction, hoping it was going to at least get you to a road, you raised your head above the grass slightly to see where you should go, a forest could be seen in the distance so you made your way towards that, now running as fast as you could.

Just when you reached the edge of the forest you felt your hair pulled back roughly, it made you fall backward and you yelped in pain.

“Gotcha!” he shouted with glee.

Dover dragged you closer to him by your hair, you scratched and clawed at his hand to release your hair. You were at his feet now, he let go of your hair and stood over top of you, he placed his foot on your stomach and stood onto you, you yelled out for help with your last inhalation. He kept applying pressure, now making it hard for you to breathe in, you punched his leg as hard as you could but this just made him laugh loudly. He dropped himself on top of your body, he placed his legs on your arms to prevent you from moving, you gasp for air and let out another scream.

Dover punches your face, you yell in pain and feel dizzy again, his hands are now around your neck squeezing your throat. In this moment, you feel helpless, you can’t squirm enough to get him off of you and now the blood is unable to get to your brain causing you to slowly slip into darkness. As the world around you begins to fade, you hear a low rumbling, like the growl of a wolf. The pressure from your neck is gone and there’s no one on your body, as the blood starts rushing back into your brain you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you roll over onto your front.

The sound you heard was no wolf, it was the revving of an engine, a small engine, a chainsaw.

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh #slasher smut #slasher x reader #slasher thirst #slasher fandom

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tonicandjins · 1 year

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find your way back home | lee donghyuck — teaser

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x reader

word count: approximately 25-28k

genre: fluff, some smut, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, basically a hannah montana the movie AU

warnings: smut, drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

synopsis: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his therapist thinks that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

excerpt:

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. A shot of vodka would help now. Mark is making his head hurt, worse than the stupid hangover from drinking his ass off in Hongdae last night. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone towards Haechan, the device barely missing his face and landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen it happen! To many groups and many idols in the agency. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to be frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka kept he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

author’s note: as usual, please let me know if you want to be on the taglist! :) this will be posted this coming weekend as long as i complete it. thank you!

#tonicandjins #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan au #haechan x reader #haechan fic #nct dream fic #haechan canon

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carminecherry · 7 months

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PLAYGROUND | kazutora hanemiya

this is part one of the series put a collar on your pet

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART ONE LENGTH: 2.5k words

⇝ PART ONE WARNINGS: slight nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; cuddling, drinking, a little angst, teasing, chasing, tickling; kazutora is a playboy, you're his bff who he can always count on, you're the last person to admit his charms phase you, he comes to you after yet another break up, would you risk your friendship to confess to your womanizer bff? also, you find out that kazutora is ticklish.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: lots of spice in the next part, this is mostly for tension and build up, enjoy <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

“C’mon~” He whined. A pout, curving his lips. “I don’t know, Kazu… I just became an apprentice. Shouldn’t you go to someone, I don’t know, more professional?”

You take a swig from the tall can you bought at the convenience store, the tinny metal tainting the taste in a familiar way. Despite being 7% it was making your head swirl pleasantly already.

He sighs, pulling you close to him on the wooden park bench, littered with small carvings and ink; some of which you and the gang have contributed over the years.

It sits in an area that's slightly secluded, a grove of shrubs and trees blocking it from view. It was the perfect spot for smoking or drinking in privacy. Once you and the gang stumbled upon it back in high school, you’ve kept coming back.

You run your fingers over the weathered graffiti, ignoring the man nuzzling into you, finding a spot on the seat. A smile tugs at your lips. It's a little heart with a dagger through it. Basic, but it had been the design of your first flash tattoo.

You remember the night you practiced drawing it here on the bench and how Kazu, Baji, and Chifuyu and volunteered to let you sketch it on them in sharpie.

A feeling of nostalgia warms your chest. You also remember a younger, very intoxicated, Kazu swearing he'd only ever get a tattoo if you were the one to do it. This park, this spot, this bench, holds so many memories.

You take a deep breath in, letting the cool, night air fill your lungs. The sun set a long time ago, but the air still held a slight dampness from the humidity of the day. It’s one of those nights where you can feel fall creeping in.

“I don’t wanna go to just anyone, I want it to be done by you.” You can’t fight the blush that dusts your cheeks, much to your chagrin. He’s always been a huge flirt, that stupid pretty boy. You hate it when his methods have an effect on you. “Yeah, yeah, flattery that’s not gonna work on me Kazu. You just want a discount.” You lie, feeling your heart rate increase with his lingering proximity. He plasters on an innocent face, but the glint in his golden eyes gives him away, it always does.

“Pretty, please. It won’t be right if it isn’t you.” He whines, throwing himself over you in a dramatic display. You huff. He knows what he’s doing, he always teases you like this. Making you put your guard up and shut him down. The helpless flirt, the devil. He rotates his head against your shoulder, making his earring jingle, bringing his chin to rest there comfortably.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, smell his shampoo, his detergent, his cologne mixing together; light but strong- like the crisp, cold air of a shopping mall. You like the smell, though you’d never admit it. You’re wrapped in it, enjoying it for as long as you can before he notices. He’s quick to poke fun at everyone, especially you, a trait you have mixed feelings about.

You hear his soft breathing in your ear, that flustered feeling building. You break first, “I’ll… Talk to my boss. But-” He’s crushing you in a hug before you can finish. “Don’t go getting your hopes up.” You choke out. “Is your boss the hot one? Give her my number if she needs some persuading.” “Ew. No. That’s Amy, and ONE she has a girlfriend, TWO my boss is Rei, big, bald, lots of tattoos, sunglasses, yeah?” “He pouts again, "I’m not super into guys but give him my number nonetheless.” “You’re ridiculous.” You finally shake him off.

You’ve had to make an effort to hold on to moments like this, where the shameless comes through. These sobering moments can help you when you feel the butterflies starting, a reminder of why it would never work between the two of you. He always did this, spoiled the moment.

You’ve walked to that edge before, the boundary of your friendship. Peered into the inky blackness of the unknown below. What would meet you there if you ever garnered enough courage to leap? More times than you can count, the words would bubble up in your chest. What do you think of me, Kazu? Do you think we could ever be more than friends? I want you all to myself. All bitten back by the gripping fear of losing a dear friend, fear of getting your heart broken by the person you care about most.

He curls a hand around your waist, leaning into you. You melt into the heat seeping through his shirt. He usually gets like this, more touchy, after a breakup regardless of who dumped who. He has all of that pent up affection, that physical touch that needs an outlet. And it’s always you. Over and over again you are his rock.

You hate that it’s like this, that he has such power over you. But that doesn’t change anything. You can’t bear the thought of him being with anyone else like this. There is an intimacy to your relationship beyond physical. One that he has never had in his love life, or so he’s told you. Your heart aches, confused. The conversations of the past whirling into a spiral of anxiety and hope.

It’s almost funny. The double standard you’ve slotted yourself into. If one of your girl friends came to you, talking about a guy situation like this, you would tell her to run for the hills with a promise to kick his ass. But you were putty in his hands. Damn it.

You’re brought back from your reverie with him jostling you, “Oi, are you even listening?” “Nah, I tuned out when you couldn’t remember her name.” He makes an indignant noise. “Why are you so hung up on her anyways?” The intrusive thought blurts out before you have time to stop it. “I don’t know, I just feel kind of gross about it…” You sit in silence together, not wanting to pry.

“I guess I feel kinda used.” He admits with faux drama. “I’d say it’s karmic at this point, then.” You shoot back, earning you a shove. “Come on, I mean, how many girls have you hooked up with and dumped? I don’t see how this is any different.” “Those girls didn’t matter.” “Oh wow.” You say only half sarcastically. “Not like that, I mean, it was just for fun. We were on the same page… Most of the time…” You roll your eyes.

He slides down the bench, reclining, resting his head in your lap. Your fingers naturally comb through his soft, dyed hair. The longer, wispy bits tickling the skin of your thighs. He closes his eyes to the pleasant sensation of your nails on his scalp. “It was like… I guess I feel like a pawn… She was just hooking up with me to try and get Mikey’s attention.” His voice sounds distant. You hum, taking another sip of your drink, prying your eyes from his peaceful face. “Sounds very dramatic.” You offer, he laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, it’s shit.”

It’d been a long time since you’d hung out with the guys. Work has been busy since you started as an apprentice at a tattoo studio in the city and the only reason you get to see Kazu is because the two of you live so close to each other. You wonder how the others are doing. Sounds like there's some tea brewing and you’re happy to not be involved.

“I don’t know, getting a tattoo after a messy break up, pretty cliche don’t ya think?” You tease. His eyes shoot open and he looks flustered, it’s rare that you can get a reaction out of him; a shiteating grin spreading across your face. “It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.” He says, with an earnestness that you don’t often see from him. You lean over him in your lap, “Oh~ What’s a long time to you? Two months?” You continue teasing. “Since, like, middle school ass hat!” He says with a playful shove, your drink sloshing in your hand.

“Ay- watch it!” You say shoving him back. “You’re gonna spill my-” He grabs your wrist that’s holding the can, you wrestle with him but he has that brutish strength, one forged over years of brawling in his younger years. He guides your hand up with ease. “Hey, knock it off!” you say, struggling in his vice grip. He replies only with a devilish grin, opening his mouth in a seductive way, locking eyes with you.

His head rolls back, exposing the column of his neck. He turns your wrist to waterfall the liquid in the can into his open mouth; the stream catching a small glimmer of light from a distant lamppost.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as the can grows lighter in your hand. A bit of the drink escapes, you follow the slow drip from the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw. He closes his eyes as it slowly rolls down his neck, dripping into your lap. You feel your face heat as you take in the sight hungrily. He shakes your wrist to get the last few drops of the beverage. “Problem solved.”

“You ASS!” You sputter. He releases you with a laugh, wiping the spilled liquid with the back of his hand, before sizing you up in a predatory way. A sharp smile spreads across his face. “Sorry, do you want it back?" He sits up quickly, rearranging your positions, grabbing your face between his warm palms.

He hovers over you on the bench acting like he’ll spit the drink back into your mouth as you fend off his attack, curling into the bench to put some space between the two of you. “Oh mY GOD SICKO LET GO OF ME!” You squeal, fighting off his grip with a laugh.

He relents, chuckling as well. “You owe me a new one.” You say, punctuating the statement with a tinny tap on the can with your nails, the wood scraping against the back of your thighs as you scoot away from him. “Yes, yes, your wish is my command, princess.” The pet name makes your heart skip. Damn him.

He stands from the bench, stretching his long toned arms above his head. “I didn’t mean right this second.” You pout, hiding your blush in the shadows. “So bossy.” He quips back. You wipe the spilled liquid from your leg and rub absently at a bug bite that meets the pad of your finger, the itchiness a welcome distraction. You slap at your chest as you feel the prick of a new bite. Then another on your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m getting eaten alive out here!” You say with annoyance. It is still summer after all. He whips around, pinning you between his arms and the bench. “I’m the only bloodsucker that gets to eat you.” He says in a syrupy joking voice, bringing a nail to scratch at the rising red spot on your collar bone. “Fuck off.” You say kicking at him, he retreats with a laugh.

“Ugh, it’s so itchy now.” You whine, pressing on the warm patch of skin. You rise in a huff, walking out of the little grove. “Aww you poor thing. I can help you scratch any itch, just say the word~” He says , trotting to catch up to you. “Animal.” You spit at him, but your voice lacks venom and the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth takes any punch out of the statement.

He skips ahead of you, blocking your path. You step to the left, he blocks. You step to the right he blocks. You stand to full height, not even reaching his chin, and cross your arms. He crouches slightly like he’s going to charge you. “God, you’re such a kid. Get out of my way.” You say in the sternest voice you can muster.

“Password.” He says, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Let me through, ass wipe.” “Nope, two more tries.” “Kazutora is a drunk brat who can’t keep it in his pants.” “Wrong again, only one more chance.” “I’m seriously going to kick your-” “Wrong!”

Then he’s running at you. You break into a sprint, a playful squeal escaping your throat. “OH MY GOD YOU DICK WHAT HAPPENED TO CHIVALRY?!” You run through the grassy field next to the grove, the lush blades of grass lick the skin of your ankles with the slight moisture of dew that’s formed. The cool summer air rushing past you. The child-like thrill of being chased thundering through your veins. You hear him laughing as he sprints behind you.

You know he’s faster than you, he’s letting you outrun him. He loves this, the chase. You duck under some branches, the playground appearing in the distance. You run towards it, sprinting up the slide with a symphony of squeaks, rubber soles on plastic. He runs after you as you jump down the back. You feel the crunch of mulch under your shoes.

The alcohol in your system gives you a pleasant buzz on your skin. You weave between the swings, chains jingling, and make a break for the jungle gym. You make a frantic leap up the stairs, cold metal meeting the palm of your hand. Before you can get in, you feel his arm snake around your waist, prying you from the structure. A high pitched laugh escapes as he swings you around. “Gotcha!”

Your legs flail helplessly, far from the ground. “Let go of me you ass!” You laugh. “I WIN!” He howls. “It wasn’t a game, loser.” “Everything is a game.” He says breathing heavily into the back of your head. You wriggle in his grip but it’s pointless, he’s too strong. “Put me doooooown~” You whine. “What do I win?” He says in your ear. “You win an absolute ass whooping!” “That doesn’t sound like fun.” You feel his lip pout against the shell of your ear.

He adjusts his grip, flipping you over his shoulder easily. “Down! Put me down! Down boy!” You say slapping his back. “You’re the one going on about chivalry, I’ll take you home.” He says with faux indignation, turning on a heel.

You resign yourself and flop down to dead weight. Letting your arms swing like a corpse. They brush against the fabric of his shirt; it’s smooth and thin. With each sway you can feel the tone of his back muscles, flexed carrying your weight. You let your fingers trail more, tracing a pattern in his back.

“Don’t get me worked up, sweetheart.” He jokes, but there’s an edge to his voice. “Oh~” You hum. “Ticklish, Kazu?” You bring your fingers to his side, fluttering them lightly before digging in. He buckles under your attack with a yelp as you tickle and prod the sensitive skin of his sides. He releases you unceremoniously, you stumble to get proper footing. You spin, ready to bully him with this discovery. Before the taunt can leave your mouth your eyes lock with his.

What looks back at you is a face you’ve never seen him make. Is that fucker blushing? “Totally unfair!” He whines, straightening and rubbing his sides. “All is fair in… War?” “That’s not the quote, dumbass.” He fires back. “C’mon.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you back to the sidewalk. “I can walk by myself, y’know.” You say under your breath.

“It’s my chivalrous duty to protect young maidens from the scary creatures that lurk in the night. Even ones who can’t keep their hands to themselves.” “You’ve just described yourself.” “Just enjoy your scary dog privileges. You don’t know how many other fair maidens wish they were on my arm tonight. Don’t you feel special?” There it is, mood kill. You bite back a sarcastic comment. The two of you make the rest of the walk in silence, feelings swirling in your chest.

#Kazutora Hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora smut #kazutora x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr smut #tr x you #carminecherry fics

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sunflowerabyss · 4 months

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Charms of Fate: Chapter 9

Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways with Hogwarts. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

Warnings: so. much. fluff.

______________________________________________________

You had signed up to go to Hogsmeade as a chaperone. You were regretting it. Minerva and you had walked around the village, looking in different shops and things to buy for friends and family for Christmas. You had spent a particularly long time picking out a gift for the DADA professor, to which Minerva gave you a knowing look. You ignored that meddlesome old woman.

As the sun started to set, the two of you walked in the wake of the students, making your way back to Hogwarts. The day had been long, and your feet were feeling the strain.

"Oh, Minerva, I swear, I may never volunteer for this again," you grumbled, massaging your sore feet.

Minerva chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, the perils of a field trip. Did you not consider bringing more comfortable shoes?"

You rolled your eyes. "I thought these would be fine. Turns out, I was wrong."

"Learning from experience, my dear," she teased. "Perhaps next time, you'll be better prepared."

You sighed dramatically. "Maybe I'll just stick to the cozy confines of my room. Who needs outdoor excursions anyway?"

Minerva laughed heartily. "I'm sure the students would disagree. But, fear not, we are almost home."

You couldn't help but smile, despite the discomfort. "Thank Merlin for that. I might need a week to recover from today."

Minerva's eyes glinted mischievously as she walked beside you, leaning over to you in a hushed whisper, "Well, my dear, if your feet are truly in agony, perhaps Professor Lupin could lend a helping hand."

You couldn't believe your ears and stumbled for a moment, genuinely shocked that someone as dignified as Professor McGonagall would make such a suggestion. "Professor McGonagall!" you exclaimed, your face flushing with embarrassment. "I… I can't believe you just said that!"

Minerva pulled back with a smirk, walking ahead, and ordering students to make sure to be in their dorms before curfew. You stood dumbfounded for a moment before recollecting yourself, heading inside the castle.

Like muscle memory, you headed straight towards Remus' classroom, where he had said he was going to hole himself up in so he could finish up grading papers and get ahead on lessons for after the break.

You knocked twice before letting yourself in. Remus stood by the window, watching the sunset. He turned as you drew near, setting your bags down on an empty desk.

"Busy today?" he asked.

You groaned. "You have no idea. My feet are killing me. Feels like they're gonna fall off."

Remus chuckled. "Yeah, I heard those trips can be grueling. Surprised Minnie can still keep up."

"I think she put some kind of charm or something on her shoes, who knows. Maybe I should look into it. Though, I highly doubt going back to Hogsmeade all day is in my future."

Remus smiled, nodding to your bags. "What did you buy?" he asked.

"Oh, just some gifts for family and friends," you replied, shrugging your shoulders.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package, adorned with festive paper and a ribbon.

"I got you a little something for Christmas," you said, handing him the gift. "Figured I give it to you since I won't see you until the beginning of the next term."

Remus looked pleasantly surprised. "Oh, you didn't have to get me anything. Thank you."

He unwrapped the gift with a smile, revealing a beautifully crafted leather-bound notebook. "It's a journal," you explained. "I thought you could use it to jot down your thoughts, or maybe it could be handy for lesson planning."

Remus ran his fingers over the smooth leather cover, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "This is thoughtful, thank you. I'll make good use of it, I promise."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, reaching into another bag. You put a hefty amount of chocolate bars on his desk. "I figured you were still a chocolate fiend, given that night in the kitchen and all."

Remus couldn't help but laugh, genuine and heartfelt. "You know me too well. Thank you, really. This is sweet of you."

Remus grinned and held up a finger towards you, motioning for you to wait a moment. He walked over to his desk, opened the drawer, and carefully retrieved a wrapped gift. "Here you go," he said, handing it over with a gentle smile.

You accepted it with curiosity, tearing open the wrapping paper to reveal a muggle book. Pride and Prejudice. "I remembered you mentioning this one during our conversation a while back. Thought you might enjoy it," Remus explained.

Your eyes lit up with delight, touched by his thoughtful gesture. "A while back? Do you mean fifteen years ago? Remus, this is perfect! Thank you so much," you said, genuinely grateful for the gift.

In response, he chuckled warmly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of happiness and a hint of bashfulness. "Well, I remembered you mentioning your love for literature, and I thought this might be a good addition to your collection."

Grateful for the thoughtful present, you couldn't resist the impulse to express your appreciation. With a beaming smile, you pulled him into a spontaneous hug. Remus, though slightly taken aback, soon embraced you in return. His arms wrapped around you securely, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. There was a tenderness in the way he held you, as if cherishing the moment.

Remus nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. The softness of his touch as he petted your hair was both comforting and intimate.

As Remus embraced you, a subtle but distinctive scent emanated from him, creating an olfactory tapestry that spoke of warmth and comfort. The earthy undertones, reminiscent of damp soil and fallen leaves, seemed to linger in the air, grounding you in the moment. Intertwined with this was a faint whisper of chocolate, like a mug of hot cocoa on a chilly winter's day.

As you leaned into his hug, the unique blend of scents became more pronounced. There was a comforting familiarity to it, as if each fragrance was a chapter in the story of his life. The subtle musk, not overpowering but present, reflected the quiet strength that defined Remus Lupin.

As you both pulled back slightly from the hug, Remus's warm hands found their way to your face, cradling it with gentle care. His amber eyes, filled with a mixture of emotions, locked onto yours, and in that fleeting moment, you sensed an unspoken understanding between you. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, and before words could bridge the gap, Remus closed it with a tender kiss.

In that stolen moment, time seemed to suspend, allowing you both to savor the sweetness of the kiss and the shared emotions it carried. Remus's lips, soft and tender, spoke volumes about his feelings, leaving you with a sense of warmth and belonging that lingered long after the kiss had ended.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #hogwarts #jk rowling

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bitchliteraria1906 · 21 days

Text

Lokius headcanons for the soul (in a world in which they manage to be together)

(Lots of softness, some angst, he/she/they pronouns for Loki)

•They love learning about each other. Most of their casual conversations center around Loki telling Mobius about Asgard (Mobius might have studied Loki, but hearing about things from their perspective and getting to see the nostalgia on Loki's eyes and hear the softness of her voice as they talk about their past is... a very intimate experience that Mobius could never reject) and Mobius telling Loki about past TVA shenanigans.

•This also involves ranting about their interests to each other!

•Loki loves hearing Mobius talk about jetskis and Mobius loves hearing Loki talk about magic.

•They do a lot of parallel play, which mostly involves Mobius playing sudoku and similar games while Loki reads beside him. They enjoy each other's company in silence.

•Mobius sometimes finds himself overthinking about how his lover is a norse god who has gone through so much, while he's literally just some guy. He feels like he's not good enough, that he's not interesting enough, that he isn't attractive enough, that he'll never be able to fully understand Loki and his struggles. Tldr: he feels innadequate as a partner.

•He manages to hide those insecurities pretty well, but then one day, things get especially heavy and he brings it up with Loki.

•Loki is obviously heartbroken to find that Mobius has been feeling this way, and after a much needed talk in which she highlights everything great about Mobius and reassures him, as well of a lot of pysical affection, everything feels a little lighter.

•Now, whenever Mobius feels those doubts creeping back up, they talk it out, and Loki hugs Mobius close while repeating again and again that he wouldn't be here if they didn’t want to.

•And oh, if you think this is sad, get ready for Loki's self doubts.

•It's not even that she thinks she's not good enough for Mobius. He thinks he's straight up bad for him, sometimes. His self worth has improved, but sometimes he finds himself thinking that even after everything, there's still something rotten within him that Mobius will see and hate if gets too close.

•Mobius knows this, and showers Loki with words of affirmation all the time.

•They stay awake at ungodly hours together. Loki wants to sleep but is often scared of having nightmares, and Mobius is used to the TVA and has workaholic tendences because of it, so he'll stay awake doing chores and finding stuff to do. They spend those late nights together. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they watch something together, and sometimes they lay and cuddle in complete slilence as if they were sleeping, despite both of them knowing the other is awake.

•They know it's not healty, especially for Mobius, who is a human and probably needs sleep even more than Loki does. So, they try to change this. Mobius makes them warm and relaxing drinks (warm milk for him, tea for Loki). Loki uses magic to make the bed seem even softer than it is and to make the temperature of the room perfectly comfortable. Most importantly, they reassure each other. Loki reassures Mobius that he's done enough for the day, that the chores can wait, that the house isn't gonna fall apart while he rests (Mobius knows this on a rational level, but needs to hear it from someone else). Meanwhile, Mobius reassures Loki that she won’t be alone in case of nightmares.

•It's not easy by any means, but it has results. Sleeping slowly becomes more comfortable.

•On my Loki headcanons post I mentioned that I liked the idea of him having central heterochromia, and on my Mobius headcanon post, I mentioned that he finds beauty in small things and pays a lot of attention to details.

•So it's no surprise that Mobius adores Loki's eyes. He first notices the colors while leaning in for a kiss, and automatically goes "Wow". He then starts staring more intensively into Loki's eyes, holding Loki's chin to keep them from looking away, and gives them a really corny compliment that sounds straight out of a cheesy romance book.

•Loki mentally combusts at this.

•This also extends to other parts of Loki's appearence, like his hair and overall body. Mobius compliments everything on her in ways that sound silly, but are proof of how much attention he pays to little things.

•Loki does not know how to react to this. Thor was always the attractive sibling in people's eyes, and when people did praise her appearence, it was in sexual contexts only. As he slowly becomes used to it, she adopts the habit for herself and starts praising little things about Mobius too, much to his delight.

•They're both unexperienced in the kitchen. Loki grew up with servants, Mobius relied in the TVA's cafeteria. They learn how to cook together.

•Chaos ensues.

•Loki knows how to slow dance and tries to teach Mobius, who is... terrible. They have fun despite the fact that Mobius steps a lot on Loki's feet.

•Loki got back into an old hobby of writing poems with Mobius's encouragement, and now often writes poems for him. Mobius keeps the poems on cute little boxes and jars and re-reads them all the time.

#loki #lokius #loki laufeyson #loki series #mobius m mobius #mobius #loki odinson #mobius mcu #mobius marvel #headcanons #lokius headcanons

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buckyismybicycle · 1 year

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Title: “I wanna be your slave, I wanna be your master” [AO3 Link] Originally written as part of: Bucky Barnes As… a Rockstar SERIES MASTERLIST Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Mature Summary/Notes: This is, pretty much, exactly what it looks like. Rockstar Bucky, Flirting, etc. EDIT: Now! I’m happy to announce that this is now IT’S OWN SERIES that I have the honour of writing with @rookthorne! More rockstar!Bucky for everyone!

“𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐝” Series Masterlist | Part 2 »

The crowd is already worked up from the band on stage and Bucky is grinning maniacally behind the stage. Nat, his bassist, looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“You good, Buck?”

“Fucking fantastic, Natalia. I’m fucking fantastic. You see ‘em? It’s packed out there.”

“Your shows have been sold out all week,” Sharon reminds him while fixing Scott’s guitar strap.

“Iunno, Shar, it’s just different. Somethin’ about this place.” His blood is pumping from the heavy bass, the Cap Quartet rocking out on stage. He’s played shows with them before - Sam, Steve, Joaquin and Riley are all cool dudes. They’d become friends pretty easily, so it was a no-brainer that they were the first band Bucky asked to co-headline his tour.

—

“Thank you, you beautiful bastards!” Riley’s voice booms, followed by a loud screeching of the crowd. “Hang onto your panties if you still got ‘em, because the final act is gonna knock you dead. Yeah, you know who I’m talking about, the band you’ve all been waiting for — let me hear you fuckers!”

Bucky closes his eyes and lets the thrum of the audience's cheer work its way all the way into his bones. Fuck, he almost has a boner.

“Where’s Clint?” He asks, eager to get on stage. Natasha jerks a finger behind her where Clint is downing a bag of Cheerios between sips of Mountain Dew. Bucky grins, because it means Clint will be amped. Bucky can’t help but strum his own guitar a few times, the calluses on his fingers a permanent fixture by now.

Natasha hauls both Scott and Clint over practically by the ear, her studded combat boots thumping with each step.

“Ready?” Bucky asks with a wicked smile.

“Ready,” the three return in their usual manner, with grins and lazy salutes. Then it’s blinding lights and deafening roars.

Bucky wastes no time in getting the crowd amped.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?! Let’s gooooo bay-beeeeeeeee!” While Bucky is loud, the crowd is louder and they are on their feet from the first strum of his guitar, and Bucky feels high as a kite.

It’s not your first show at the Kathedral, but it’s certainly the loudest. You’d never heard of this particular band, but Misty’s best friends make up the Cap Quartet, so you had to support them, of course. And they were good, you actually liked when they popped up on your shuffle.

Originally, you thought you’d maybe dip after they were done - sitting for two opening acts and the Cap Quartet’s set already had your feet aching. But the moment the next band stepped out, and Misty starts jumping up and down beside you, you have no choice but to stay. The energy was infectious and you kind of missed just letting go. You may not be a rebellious teenager anymore, but the atmosphere of being at a rock concert makes you feel young and reckless again. Even the smell of spilled beer and sweat brings back a bit of nostalgia, back to when you were sixteen and had ‘X’s drawn on your hands just to get in the venue.

“C’mon, are we asleep out here?!” You hear the singer shout, and you can’t help but think how beautiful the whole band is.

There’s a redhead rocking heeled boots that look like they could kill a man, her bass guitar plastered with stickers. The drummer is wearing a sleeveless muscle tank that does wonders for his arms and the other guitarist has a dazzling smile when he looks out into the crowd.

But the lead singer - he’s rocking black leather pants that bunch above his combat boots like he’d haphazardly stuck his feet in, but they’re tight across his thighs. You can see every flex in his muscles as he jumps around on stage. His hair whips around his face as he throws his whole body into his performance. It’s a small miracle he even manages to hit any notes on his guitar. His black t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest, hugging his biceps, which makes your mouth water, but what really hits you is his voice.

The opening notes of his song are the epitome of zero to one hundred. Your throat almost hurts just from watching him, but he’s nothing but smiles, clearly lost in what he loves.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

He gets a moment of reprieve when the next part comes up, before he ramps up again, the veins in his neck prominent, making you wanna lick them. A glint of metal flashes in his mouth when he sings — a tongue piercing, probably.

One at a time I know this bridge we built won't last But it'll hold for at least a while Even when the life leaves your bones Your soul will follow me wherever I go It's in the way I feel your fire even when I sleep at night I stay inside your glow

He hits the chorus again, just as hard as he did at the beginning and you swear the floor shakes as everyone jumps.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

Then he faces the audience and hops on the speaker in front, leaning forward with his microphone, his other hand waving for the crowd to sing it back to him. You’re captivated by his crystal-like eyes as the lights bounce off them.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You even find yourself shouting along, the song is so catchy that you’re into it from the moment it started. As you shout the last line, he looks right at you and it’s like an electrifying bolt through your body as he holds the look for the next line before he bounds off to the sides of the stage that he’s been neglecting.

You’re in awe as his voice changes to something smooth and soft, the instruments that were near deafening slowing down with him. He sways in the middle of the stage, face turned up as though in prayer, the bassist even hitting a few notes on the keyboard to her side as she backs him up, vocally.

I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I dream I'll see you in the I lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the) Lost a vital part of me (I dream I'll see you in the)

And in perfect sync, the band picks up, hard again, all of them (except the drummer) jumping as well and the crowd goes wild. You narrowly miss getting kicked in the head by a crowdsurfer, who gets a fistbump from the singer over the side of the stage.

I know I'm out of sight But am I out of mind? And when I close my eyes I dream I'll see you in the afterlife Lost a vital part of me Lost a vital part of me Now there's nothing left I dream I'll see you in the afterlife

You’re in a trance when he ends the song, holding the note so long you’re sure his lungs should burst. Maybe it’s the heat, or the adrenaline, or just your heart pumping out of your chest as you bounce for the rest of the set, but you could swear that the lead singer kept catching your eye.

You feel like you’re flying, on cloud nine, so maybe it’s all in your head, but goddamn if you didn’t twitch with want every time you met his eyes. How this crowd still had energy was beyond you, you knew that you were dead on your feet, hair plastered to your neck with sweat but grinning wildly.

“Alright you hellions, this is the last one.” When the crowd starts chanting ‘encore, encore’ he just laughs into the mic, his voice a little raspy from his performance.

“If we could, we’d play all fuckin’ night, you know that! But some of us gotta get to Indiana by tomorrow night. So we gotta make this last one count. Let’s get sexy, folks.”

His husky voice makes it absolutely devastating as he starts off by smirking at you.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster 'Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster

It’s as though each line sent a new wave of desire through you. You picture calling him a good boy, wonder if he’d flush just as beautifully as he did now under the heat of the lights.

I love you since this morning Not just for aesthetic I wanna touch your body So fucking electric

The crowd loses its collective mind as he starts to ruck up his shirt, as each line gets progressively more seductive, and his shirt rides further and further up. You can’t help but ogle his washboard abs glistening with sweat since he was right there.

I know you scared of me You said that I'm too eccentric I'm crying all my tears And that's fucking pathetic I wanna make you hungry Then I wanna feed ya I wanna paint your face Like you're my Mona Lisa

Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest image you’d had all night. His shirt comes off over his head and he twirls it, throwing behind him.

I wanna be a champion I wanna be a loser I'll even be a clown Cause I just wanna amuse ya I wanna be your sex toy I wanna be your teacher I wanna be your sin I wanna be a preacher

You lick your lips just as he turns to you and if possible, his smile grows even bigger, feral, as he sings right at you. The lyrics made your head spin with want.

I wanna make you love me Then I wanna leave ya 'Cause baby I'm your David And you're my Goliath

He winks before strutting off, his muscles tight and taunting. The sway of his hips, intentional or not, entices you, and you’d give anything to bite down on them. The stupid pants are just taunting you at this point.

Ah-ha… Mhm, ah-ha\ Because I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption And I'm a lawyer Who's searching for redemption And I'm a killer Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He sinks to his knees on the stage as steam hisses in the back in billow pillars. The lights change, flashing reds and oranges, yellows and pinks. They dance magically across his skin.

And I'm a bad guy Who's searching for redemption And I'm a blonde girl Who's searching for redemption I'm a freak that Is searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

You’re going to die - straight to heaven or hell, it doesn’t matter at this point, because he’s honest-to-god crawling across the stage on his arms and knees, his mic still in one hand.

I wanna make your heart beat Run like rollercoasters I wanna be a good boy I wanna be a gangster Cause you can be the beauty And I could be the monster I wanna make you quiet I wanna make you nervous I wanna set you free But I'm too fucking jealous I wanna pull your strings Like you're my telecaster And if you want to use me I could be your puppet 'Cause I'm the devil Who's searching for redemption I'm a motherfucking monster Who's searching for redemption

He ends at the edge of the stage, his torturous crawl making your throat go dry from more than just your screaming. Then, he flips on his back, lets his head hang over the side of the stage.

I wanna be your slave I wanna be your master

The last line is but a whisper, and then he finally lets the mic drop, his arms stretched like he’s going for a backwards dive and his chest is heaving. He’s a sweaty mess, body on display and licks his lips while staring a hole into your soul.

—

The venue slowly begins to empty, stragglers buying merch or finishing their drinks. You feel dizzy when Misty drags you outside, saying that her friends want to hang out for a bit before they leave for the next town. You stumble along because, yeah, alright, her friends are cool.

They’re by their tour bus, all of them outside with drinks in their hands and they wave you both over.

“Excellent show, boys,” you greet as everyone takes turns hugging both you and Misty.

“Yeah, you guys killed it!” Misty agrees enthusiastically.

“What’d you think of the other bands?” Sam asks. “Parasite Fears has never been on the road like this.”

“That was the first band, right? They were really good! And the set was fun,” you say honestly. Now that you’re outside and it’s getting late, the sweat on your body is cooling, causing you to shiver a bit. Riley hands you a cup and when you ask what it is, he just smiles. You drink it anyway, because why not. They spend a few minutes chatting before a warm arm wraps around your shoulders, and your breath catches at the sight of bright crystal-like eyes beside you. His other arm is thrown over Joaquin as he stands between you.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he smiles blindingly at you.

“Hi,” you say back, still a little stunned at how at ease he seemed to be, even as he retracts his arm. He’s changed into basketball shorts of all things, which makes you even chillier just looking at him. This close, you can see the intricate lines of his tattoos - metal plates from shoulder to fingers on his left arm, swirls of black script along his other.

“You look cold, sweetheart,” he observes. “Couldn’t you guys have taken this party into the tour bus?”

“They’re fixing the bus,” Steve says. “Told us to stay outta the way.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright to head out?” Bucky asks, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Should be,” Steve shrugs. “Tones said we’d be fine, or else he’d find another way. We’ll know in about two hours or so.”

“Ehhh, tell Tones to relax for once. If anything, you can divvy yourselves up and the rest of us could shuttle you the rest o’ the way.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve claps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, can’t have you ruining the tour, punk.”

Something about their easy camaraderie makes you smile. But you’re still cold, and Bucky still notices.

“If I had a jacket, I’d offer it to you,” he looks back at you. “Next best thing, I can offer our unbroken tour bus?” He jerks his head behind and you see the redheaded bassist leaning against the side smoking a cigarette, chatting with the drummer who appears to be double-fisting drinks.

You look at Misty who is being introduced around to the other bands by Sam and Riley and there’s no way she’s going to be anytime soon.

“Um. You don’t have to,” you say, because he’s a stranger. He cocks his head to study you. It looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t push.

“Offer’s open, doll,” he shrugs. Some other members come up to him, Steve, and Joaquin and congratulate them on their set so you quietly slip away.

You don’t know anyone else here, and it’s kind of awkward to be by yourself so you start wandering around. When you round a bus, you nearly smack into the drummer from Bucky’s band and you yelp as you both jump back.

“Sorry!” you both say at the same time before the sandy-haired man smiles and waves before walking past you. You notice that he’d dropped something - though it was small and black making it hard to tell what it was.

“Hey!” you shout at him, but he doesn’t turn around, instead heading back to his bus. You pick up the item, a transmitter of some sort, and try to catch up to him. You can’t seem to find him and the bassist had also left her spot so you approach the bus. The door is completely open but you knock on the frame anyway.

“Hello?” There’s no sound inside so you think about leaving it where he can find it easily.

“Takin’ me up on my offer?” You startle at the sudden voice behind you.

“Actually, your dummer dropped this,” you explain, thankful to at least hand it back to someone. “I tried to get his attention but I don’t think he could hear me, and then I kinda lost him in the crowd.”

“Don’t be offended, he probably took his hearing aids out,” Bucky tells you easily. “Thanks for bringing this back though, Sharon woulda fuckin’ killed him.”

“Hearing aids?” You can’t help but blurt out. “Wow.”

Bucky beams proudly as he tells you about his friend, Clint, how gifted of a drummer he is and how even losing most of his hearing never stopped him.

“That’s amazing,” you say, a genuine smile for his story and how much he was beaming just talking about Clint. Just then a gust of wind blows, and your jean shorts and t-shirt aren’t cutting it.

“C’mon, before you freeze,” Bucky jerks his head toward the tour bus and fuck it. You hop aboard, Bucky following you. He places the transmitter on the kitchenette table, looking hilariously giant in the cramped space.

“You come here often?”

“Did you just use the oldest pick up line of all time?” You scrunch your nose at him, liking the sound of his laugh.

“Is it working?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m just asking out of genuine curiosity,” he bats his eyelashes. They’re so pretty, you think to yourself.

“I used to. Less often now, but when I hear someone good is playing, I show up.”

He arches an eyebrow at you.

“Cap Quartet, I mean. Obviously. They don’t scream as much as you do,” you add, and you find yourself relaxing with Bucky as he takes all your jokes and jabs in stride as he tickles you for the slight.

“You hurt my feelings, doll,” he says, all smiles and sharp teeth.

“How ever could I make it up to you?” You find yourself flirting with him.

“Maybe you could scream for me this time,” he suggests, leaning in closer with a tilt of his head, eyes searching yours for a sign.

“Yeah?” You ask a little breathlessly, forgetting how to breathe as you two inch into each other’s spaces now.

“Yeah,” his lips just grazing against your neck. “Didn’t you enjoy that last song I sang for you?”

“For me?” You ask incredulously, making Bucky grin at you.

“Ya heard me, doll. For you,” he repeats. “It seemed like you enjoyed it..”

Whatever thought you’d had about him flirting with you was more or less solidified now, and it was making your body rebel against you. You lick your lips subconsciously before you answer. “Maybe.”

“Especially that bit… about wanting to be your master.”

You involuntarily hold your breath, legs squeezing together. It’s impossible not to imagine Bucky over you, pinning you down as he commands you to do as he wants.

“Or… maybe it was that bit about wanting to be your slave?”

The breath you let out is shaky, matching your trembling hands that are balled into fists across your lap.

Bucky’s eyes darken, and you’re not really sure who made the first move, but you’re suddenly kissing furiously, hands tangled in each other’s hair and clothes.

“Christ, I’ve wanted this since I first fuckin’ saw you,” Bucky tells you, pulling you into his lap, where you can feel his dick hardening through his shorts. It’s embarrassing how fast you get on board, your pussy quivering at the thought of being touched for the first time in too long.

“Tell me what you need, pretty little thing,” he nibbles at your bottom lip. “God, I wanna take you apart, wanna do anythin’ you want.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “That. Want that, too. Want you to fuck me.”

His lips curl into a smile against yours as he lifts you easily to tumble into a bottom bunk. “Yes, master.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes as...#my works #bucky barnes fanfic #rockstar bucky #feat hold absence and maneskin lol #music taste

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