#HE BUILT YOU A PLAYGROUND AND YOU THOUGHT IT WAS THE WORLD

[yugocar]

truly one of my favorite consistent writing choices in succession is that whenever there is something with massive (political or otherwise) implications at stake; the roys always argue about a dynamic they established as children.

#succession #like im not phrasing it well but i just love that for most of the decisions #there is a lot of posturing and business interests and what not #and then ALWAYS when it comes to being even remotely genuine #the siblings bring up something that happened while they were children #HE BUILT YOU A PLAYGROUND AND YOU THOUGHT IT WAS THE WORLD #or w/e she said #its simultaneously moving because it thrusts into your face #the abuse these people experienced #while also reminding you how incredibly selfish and deluded they are #making decisions that will effect millions of people because of their own trauma #their own interests #its great stuff #and also is just a great representation of family dynamics #with siblings i swear to god it doesnt matter if you are 12 or 35 #its always about something that happened when you were kids

[peterthepark]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

[sapphic-coded]

hey beautiful could u write about a nat x reader break up and there’s so much tension between them until they both break at a dinner party with the team and their dates 😋

Hey Friend! You're so sweet. I hope this lands somewhere in the ballpark of what you were hoping for. Thank you for the request!

No Use In You Trying, Baby

You are invited to a dinner party. Reluctantly, you go and run into your ex.

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Hurt feelings. Language Cap wouldn't approve of.

Word Count: 2.8k

You were content to spend all your time in your lab. It was your happy place. Your playground. This was where you could think clearly, and where all your best ideas originated from. Plus, it wasn’t as if you were hiding away in some basement cut off from the outside world. Your lab at the Compound was huge and had plenty of equally huge windows that allowed plenty of bright, warm sunlight in. And if you needed to socialize, there were plenty of people who walked by your lab daily. 

But you didn’t want to socialize. You wanted to focus on your work because for the first time in months you were finally making progress. Broken equipment and weapons that had just been sitting in your lab were finally leaving polished and new. Projects that had just only been sitting nestled in the back of your mind were suddenly finding life. It was amazing what you could accomplish in a single day without any distractions. 

You rolled backwards on your black swivel chair as you stared at your notes on the yellow legal pad in your hands. You were curious what Clint would think of your idea for this new arrow. The idea had come to you last night, and you had been thinking about it ever since. The back of your chair pressed against one of the many lab tables. You lowered your notepad and turned. All thoughts regarding your new arrow idea fled at the sight of the batons laying on the table. 

You held the batons in your hands and your brow furrowed as your thumbs pressed down on the button built into the base of the weapon. The usual quiet hum of the electrical discharge was silent. You tapped both of the batons together as if that would fix the problem, but nothing changed. 

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind. Familiar, warm hands settled against your stomach while her chin came to rest over your left shoulder. 

“I tried that too,” her voice brushed against your ear. 

You sighed as you studied the twin weapons. “It shouldn’t be too hard to fix. It’s probably a broken conductor or…” You trailed off when you felt her hands travel lower. Her fingers slipped underneath the hem of your shirt. 

Who the hell put those there? 

“Incoming call from Mr. Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice penetrated the quiet of your lab. 

You stood up and collected the batons. “Put him through.” You listened as Tony’s voice echoed throughout your lab. You carried the batons over to a growing stack of boxes running along the right side of your lab. You opened up the lid on one of the cardboard boxes as Tony went into detail about partnering up on another project he had in mind. You listened for key words while your thumb pressed down on the button at the base of one of the batons. You frowned. Still broken. 

“I also need you at the Tower tonight,” Tony said. 

You dumped the batons into the box. “Why?” 

“Because I’m throwing together a little dinner party,” Tony replied. “Just the team. We haven’t done one of those in a while.”  

“I’m busy,” your reply was automatic. 

“You finished your last official project two weeks ago.” 

“I’m working through my backlog,” you replied. 

“Fine,” Tony said. There was a moment of quiet when you wondered if he had hung up the phone. Your question was answered when you turned your back to the boxes. “I’ll be very interested to see how you manage to do that without any power.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Trust me, I’m wearing my serious face,” Tony replied. “I can demonstrate if you want.” 

The lights in your lab flickered.

“Fine. I’ll be there.” 

– – – 

You used to spend most of your time at Avengers Tower. This was where you got your start working for Tony Stark. When you first arrived at the Tower, you thought the labs there couldn’t get any better. You had been allowed to play around with tech you could only fantasize about. The amount of resources you had at your disposal was endless. It was fun. You loved creating weapons and upgrading equipment for the team. There were few things better than challenging yourself to create something better than the perfect project you just finished. 

When you entered the Tower, you were tempted to just go to your old floor. You hadn’t been able to move everything from your old lab to your new one at the Compound. Playing around with what you had left behind seemed like a better idea than attending a dinner party. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see the team. You did. But it hadn’t even been a month since your last conversation with Natasha. The one that had ended badly. You knew she would be here, and the last thing you wanted to do was see her. Because then everything you had been ignoring would come rushing back. You wouldn’t know what to say, and everything would just be easier if you kept your distance. 

Too bad you weren’t going to get what you wanted. 

When you reached the top floor, Tony was the first to greet you. It seemed you were the last to arrive as the rest of the team were talking amongst each other. You spotted familiar faces. Most of the team had brought along their dates. It made you want to leave even more, but you put on your best smile as you made small talk with the team. Thor was in the middle of telling you a tale of his most recent battle when you saw her. 

She was standing near the bar talking to Laura. Despite trying your best to focus on Thor’s story, you couldn’t help but notice that she looked beautiful. Then again, Natasha always looked stunning. The black dress she wore now only complimented her features. Or rather, the dress acted more like a reminder of a lost privilege. You gripped your glass of expensive wine tighter at the thought. Privilege? You hadn’t lost anything like that. Just a relationship that was bound to crash and burn. 

“...and then he went flying off the mountain,” Thor’s laugh drew your attention back to the god. “Never thought it’d end like that.” He shook his head and then took a long drink from his flask. “So, I hear you spend your time forging new weapons.”

“Uh, yeah,” you looked past Thor. Natasha smiled at something Laura had said. Stop it. You focused back on Thor and started talking about all the projects you had completed recently. You chose to only talk about the projects you knew would keep Thor’s attention: equipment upgrades, a very close to being completed laser sword, and an attempt to copy his hammer. He found that last bit very funny. 

You were grateful when everyone was summoned to the table for the actual dinner. All you had to do now was eat the food, make a tiny amount of more small talk, and then you could leave. You already had your excuses prepared. But as you approached the table, you realized that Tony had thrown a curveball your way. Tony had gone through (or rather he had someone else go through) and assigned the team seats. You already had an idea of where this was going, and your suspicion was confirmed when you found your seat right next to Natasha. 

You looked over at Tony. He winked at you, and you were tempted to leave. Instead, you sat down in your seat and set your expensive wine down on the table. You could do this. She hadn’t approached you yet this entire evening. The feeling of not wanting to interact with each other was mutual. You both could talk to other people. This was fine. 

The smell of her perfume hit you first. It grabbed hold of you and yanked you back through countless memories. You remembered the smell of jasmine with the barest hint of vanilla flooding your senses when she pulled you in for that first kiss. You remembered how your legs turned to jelly, and you were terrified that you were going to fall. You didn’t fall. Somehow, you stayed on your feet until the kiss was over. Your mind had gone blank. You had felt painfully dumb. What were you supposed to do? 

She smiled as her hands settled at your waist. “Aren’t you going to kiss me back?” 

You looked to your left as she sat down in her seat. She looked gorgeous and happy. As if nothing life altering had happened. You felt a spike of jealousy. She probably had forgotten all about you by now. Breaking off your relationship hadn’t changed anything for her. You had been right to doubt your relationship all along. You had only been a convenient fuck. You were so stupid to believe all those promises she made you. She certainly couldn’t keep many of them. 

You looked away and took a good, long drink of whatever Tony had poured into your glass. A wait staff appeared and set plates filled with delicious smelling food down in front of everyone. You set your now empty glass down, and another waiter appeared to refill it. You picked up your knife and fork and began cutting into the meat. You could do this. You should just pretend she isn’t here. Rogers was sitting to your right. You could always just make conversation with him. 

“Is this what we’re doing now?” her voice was low enough for only you to catch. 

You forced yourself to keep your focus on your plate as you continued to cut into the meat. Red juices leaked from what was probably a delicious cut of meat. “Yup.” You stabbed your fork into the tender meat and pushed it into your mouth. You chewed. Fuck. It was good. You heard her sigh, and you didn’t need to look at her to know she was also, most likely, shaking her head. 

“It’s a bad move,” she said. 

You bit back the first thought that came to mind and continued to eat. 

“This is obviously a setup. They’re trying to fix things,” she continued when you didn’t respond. 

You looked around at the table as you chewed. Everyone else was busy talking amongst themselves. You swallowed and still refused to look at her. “There’s nothing to fix.” She didn’t respond right away and you reached for your glass. Maybe this was all about to end. 

“Then I suggest we play along unless you want to go through this again,” she said. 

You set your glass down before you could take a sip and finally looked over at her. “I’m not going to play along.” You spotted the familiar look of frustration cross her face. It didn’t surprise you. Whenever you refused to go along with any of her plans, she got annoyed with you. You should have known from the very beginning that this relationship was never going to work. You felt stupid for even trying. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you at the next dinner party,” Natasha looked away from you.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you stabbed your fork into another piece of meat. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be too busy to attend the next one.” 

“Didn’t you already try that excuse?” she asked. 

You shoveled the piece of meat into your mouth and chewed. You didn’t bother to ask how she knew that. It was Natasha. She knew everything about you. You hated it. You hated that she was right. You hated sitting here so close to her. Every minute that passed was just more reminders of what had made you happy. It was gone, and you just wanted it all to stay dead. Why hadn’t Natasha shown up with the date? Why didn't you? You could think of a dozen ways you could have approached this whole stupid thing differently.  

“Y/N,” her voice was softer now and you felt a burning behind your eyes. 

“I can’t do this,” you heard the waver in your voice. You shouldn’t have come. You knew what would happen. You knew you would see her. You knew you would feel all these things. You weren’t sure if you couldn’t hear the other conversations happening around the table because people had stopped talking or because your quickening heart beat was now filling your ears. “I can’t.” 

You felt her hand fall over your own, and you quickly snatched your hand back and stood up. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes on you as you quickly left. You heard their voices all rise up as one, but you didn’t look back. You just needed to leave. Get some fresh air. Go back to the Compound and forget about all of this. 

Your pace quickened as you left the team behind and hurried towards the elevator. You were grateful that the doors parted immediately upon pushing the button. You stepped inside and pressed the button that would take you down to the garage. Your vision blurred and you felt a hot tear spill down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. Stupid. This had been stupid. The doors started to close and just when you thought your escape was complete, Natasha slipped into the elevator. 

The doors shut completely and you shook your head. “No.” Your hand reached out towards the panel of buttons. You went to push the button that would force the elevator doors back open, but Natasha grabbed your hand before you could. “Let go, Nat. I’m not going back to that stupid party.” 

“That’s not why I’m here,” she said and released your hand the moment the elevator began to descend. 

Your hand dropped back down to your side. “Then why are you here?” You realized that was the wrong question to ask as her red lips parted to answer. You shook your head. “No! No. I don’t want to know. Just leave me alone.” 

She took a small step closer to you, and you instinctively stepped back and felt your back pressed against the cool wall of the elevator. “You’re not even going to give me a chance?” 

“A chance to do what? Lure me back to your side with more fake promises of some happy life together? You can’t use that bullshit on me anymore. I was just a convenient fuck for you,” you felt another tear slip, and you used the back of your hand to wipe it away. 

“You broke up with me,” she argued. 

“Because you pushed me away,” your voice wavered again, and you hated it. “Every time I tried to help or understand, you kept me out. The only time you let me in was when you wanted to fuck me. The only time you wanted me around was if you wanted to have sex with me. I wasn’t your girlfriend. I was your toy.” 

“I know.”

You were ready for anything. You had replayed all your arguments in your head hundreds of times. You were ready for any of her arguments. Except for that. Those two words caught you completely off guard. 

“I messed up,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

What was happening? This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You were supposed to argue back and forth until you were both spent and upset and eager to get away from each other. 

“Please let me try again.”

She had somehow managed to get even closer to you. Her voice was soft, and her olive green eyes were searching your face. She was trying to gauge your emotions. You could only wonder what she saw because you didn’t know how to feel. Tears still threatened to spill down your cheeks from all the pain you had been shoving down these past few weeks. Walking away from her had hurt so much. Because you did love her, and it had killed you to realize that she didn’t love you. 

You wanted to leap at this chance. You wanted it so badly, but you were hesitant. You had barely been able to walk away from her last time. You weren’t sure you would be able to do it again if all of this happened again. But you wanted to believe it wouldn’t. You wanted to believe that there was still some life in this dying husk of a relationship. 

You didn’t realize what had happened until her lips were pressed against yours. It felt like your first kiss all over again, only better. It felt familiar. The kiss was soft but needy. It reminded you of all the other ways she had kissed you before. The smell of her perfume flooded your senses, and you just wanted to collapse into her arms. You were tired of being angry. Tired of being upset. You wanted this. The kiss ended far too soon, and you started to lean forward to chase her retreating lips. 

You saw her smile when the elevator reached the garage floor, and the doors opened. You didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, you waited for the elevator doors to close before you leaned forward to kiss her back. 

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #fanfic request #sapphic september #i'm tempted to write a part two but i'm not sure

[deliciousangelfestival]

Kiss Me If You Can || Bucky Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Thief!Reader

Summary: Bucky, a stern lieutenant, discovers that his first love has become a famous phantom thief, sparking a thrilling cat-and-mouse chase with a romantic twist as he can't bear to see her imprisoned but prefers to keep her close.

Words Count: 1,746

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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,-

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Lieutenant James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as he was commonly known, was a commanding presence within the army. His stern demeanor struck fear into the hearts of many soldiers, earning him a reputation as a no-nonsense enforcer.

After a tough day, Lieutenant James Buchanan Barnes headed to his office, a place where he had a little routine. He would glance at a photo that held a special meaning for him.

In the picture were two kids – a little boy and a tall girl. The girl flashed a peace sign and rested her arm on the boy's shoulder.

That girl was Y/N, the older sister of his best friend and four years older than him. But she was more than just a friend's sister; she was his first love.

The photo captured a moment from their past, a time when Y/N's protective gesture had meant everything to him, and the innocence of childhood hinted at a connection that had endured through the years.

Y/N, the older sister of Bucky's best friend Steve Rogers, had played a pivotal role in his life from an early age. The memory of her standing up for him against playground bullies was etched in Bucky's mind.

She had wiped the dirt from his clothes with a gentle touch, patting his head as she assured him, "Don't worry, if they bother you again, call Sister Y/N. I'll save you."

Years rolled by, and as Bucky enlisted in the army to seek strength and purpose, Y/N continued exploring the world. Their paths diverged, but the connection lingered.

When Bucky earned his rank as a lieutenant, Y/N, ever the supportive figure, patted his head once more and exclaimed, "Awesome, Bucky!"

The gesture, however, didn't sit well with Y/N's younger brother, who found the whole dynamic between his childhood friend and his big sister rather discomforting.

Bucky couldn't shake the feelings that had taken root during his childhood. Y/N wasn't just a friend; she was a beacon of strength and kindness that had left an indelible mark on his heart.

As the years went by, his admiration for her evolved into something more complex, something bordering on obsession. Her image lingered in his thoughts, and the mere mention of her name sent a ripple through his stoic exterior.

The photograph in his office, which captured a moment from their childhood, became a source of solace and torment for Bucky. It was a tangible reminder of a time when Y/N's presence had provided comfort and assurance.

It served as a testament to the unspoken emotions he dared not express.

When he inquired about Y/N's whereabouts, Steve's cryptic response only fueled the fire of anticipation.

Steve's response was mysterious, "She will appear when you didn't expect her. Just let her be, Bucky. You will find the right girl."

The advice to wait and let things unfold left Bucky in a state of restless contemplation. The walls around his heart, built by years of military discipline, seemed to crumble in the face of the unresolved feelings he harbored for Y/N.

Then, one day, things changed. Bucky's boss, a really important officer, called him to put together a special team. The job was to catch someone who stole weapons from the army.

Now, Bucky was part of this special group, and it was a different kind of mission. They weren't just testing his military skills; they were also testing how well he could handle his feelings. The team had different people, each good at something specific.

Bucky, known for being tough and precise, had a big role. They found out the stolen weapons could be a big danger if they ended up in the wrong hands.

The mission got intense, with the team figuring out clues and doing secret stuff. Bucky's focus on the job helped him ignore the feelings he hadn't dealt with in the past. Things got even more serious as they got closer to catching the thief.

The night was tense as the elite team worked tirelessly to fortify the security measures around the anticipated target areas. His senses were on high alert, and Bucky detected a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The thief was making a move, and a trap had been set.

A sudden ambush unfolded as the team moved cautiously through the shadowy corridors. The trap sprung, ensnaring several members of the elite unit. Chaos erupted as alarms blared, and the team was entangled in a web of unexpected danger.

However, Bucky, ever the vigilant lieutenant, sensed the deception.

His instincts led him away from the chaos, toward the concealed location where the stolen weapons were hidden. In the dimly lit room, he came face to face with the enigmatic thief.

The figure, clad in a tight black suit accentuating every agile movement, turned to reveal a face that sent a shockwave through Bucky's entire being.

It was Y/N.

The woman who had once patted his head and saved him from childhood bullies, the girl who had filled his memories with warmth and admiration, now stood before him as the phantom thief haunting the army.

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, a mixture of shock and realization crossing his features.

The intricate dance between duty and personal connection reached a crescendo at that moment as the past collided with the present in a way he had never anticipated.

"Y/N," Bucky uttered, the name escaping his lips in a whisper of disbelief.

Y/N's smile, once a familiar comfort, now carried a mysterious edge as she greeted Bucky with a wave. "Hi Bucky, how are you?"

Her tone, casual and nonchalant, echoed through the room, creating a surreal atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the gravity of the situation.

Bucky, caught between the echoes of the past and the stark reality unfolding before him, struggled to find words. The woman who had once pledged to save him now stood as the very threat he had sworn to apprehend. The conflicting emotions within him churned, creating a storm of uncertainty.

"How..." Bucky began, his voice trailing off as he grappled with the complexity of the moment. The memories of Y/N's kindness clashed with the undeniable truth of her actions as the phantom thief. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in on a tableau frozen in time.

Y/N, seemingly unfazed by the tension, took a step closer. "I've been around, Bucky," she said, her eyes holding a glint of mischief. "Life's been an adventure. And yours?"

Without waiting for Bucky's answer, Y/N laughed, saying, "I warned them they couldn't fool one person. They should've listened to me."

Bucky tried to convince Y/N to surrender and face justice, but she just shook her head, a playful defiance in her eyes.

"Why so serious, Bucky?" Y/N teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "Life's more fun when you're on the edge, don't you think?"

Bucky, determined to maintain authority, responded, "This is serious, Y/N. You've stolen from the army. There are consequences."

Y/N laughed lightly, her gaze never leaving his. "Consequences? I've danced with danger before, and I always come out on top. Besides, it's not like I took anything important."

Bucky, frustration creeping in, insisted, "Stolen weapons are always important. Lives could be at risk."

Y/N's expression turned serious for a moment, her eyes locking onto Bucky's. "You know me, Bucky. I never play with lives. There's always a method to my madness."

Bucky, torn between duty and an unsettling understanding of Y/N, pressed on, "You need to face the consequences, Y/N. This is bigger than your games."

But Y/N, ever the elusive thief, just winked. "Bigger games, bigger risks, Bucky. You should know that better than anyone."

Surprisingly, Bucky didn't feel frustrated. Instead, a subtle grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "You're still the same Y/N, always dancing on the edge," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

Y/N, catching onto his unexpected response, grinned back. "Wouldn't want you to forget who you're dealing with, Bucky."

Bucky's attempt to bring Y/N to justice took an unexpected turn as she shook her head in response to his plea for surrender. Instead, she approached him with an unsettling calmness, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Bucky caught off guard, felt a gentle pinch on his chin, and before he could comprehend the surreal turn of events, Y/N's lips met his in a surprising kiss.

The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat as the reality of the stolen kiss sank in. Bucky, stunned by the unexpected intimacy, could only watch as Y/N pulled away, leaving a lingering tension in the air. Her wink and the appearance of a rope from the sky signaled the arrival of a getaway plan.

With the helicopter hovering above, Y/N, with an almost teasing confidence, informed Bucky, "You wouldn't dare to see me locked up in a prison. Because I knew you love me," Y/N declared, her words carrying a mix of challenge and confidence.

She blew a flying kiss his way, adding a layer of provocation to the already complex mix of emotions.

As Y/N soared into the night, hanging on the rope tied to the helicopter, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, a cocktail of shock, confusion, and a hint of something he couldn't quite put into words.

Fueled by a thrilling energy, Bucky's jaw tightened, his fists clenching not in frustration but excitement.

"I'll get you."

Y/N was right; Bucky couldn't bear the thought of seeing the woman he loved locked behind prison bars. Instead, if he managed to catch her, she would never leave his bedroom.

With its twists and turns, this game of cat and mouse was a familiar dance, and Bucky was ready to step into the rhythm anew.

And so, the chase between Bucky and Y/N had begun.

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#bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #buckybarnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan characters #sebastian x y/n #the winter soldier

[teyamsatan]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter III: Exile

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: Your 18th birthday has finally arrived, and with it, a gift that will change your life and your relationships - forever.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, cursing

Word Count: 3,9k words

A/N: Hi Guys! The 3rd chapter is finaaally here, and 'm happy to say that whilst so far everything's been mostly intro and world building, things will be picking up very quickly. Hope you enjoy this story of two very broken people finding each other <;3

"You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door"

You didn’t dare look back at Neteyam. No, you kept a straight face and your gaze forward as you walked towards the village, engaging in small talk with your 3 friends, who were more than willing to fill in the silence by themselves. They knew you liked to keep to yourself and knew better than to take it personally. 

Your friends also knew, despite not mentioning, that this is a colossal feat, getting you out of the lab, getting you to leave your comfort bubble that you, willingly or unwillingly, built for yourself the past 18 years. Kiri fondly remembers you as a child, wild and free, running around barefoot on the grass and mud as if Pandora and her trees were just your own personal playground. She took a small gander at your feet, now safely covered with a pair of black Converse sneakers, the likes of which she’s seen other humans wear before and tried not too dwell on all the moments that lead you here.

You arrived at the village after a long, pleasant walk. You were fascinated with the Pandora flora, and wondered if you were ever going to get used to it, ever not have your breath hitch in your throat at its beauty. You hoped not. Your heart started to race as the sound of people idly chattering filled your ears. Soon enough, you began to see fire and tents, as the Na’vi were making their way back home at the dusk of another day. You saw some of them removing game from the back of their pa’li, others filleting a huge fish that you recognised as a dinicthoid, and as you walked further in, saw kids running around playing with toy ikrans and laughing amongst themselves, as their mothers lay on the ground watching them in adoration. 

This place filled you with so much warmth. It was clear to you the bond these people had to each other, to the clan, to the nature surrounding them, was something you will never experience for yourself, something your mum talked incessantly about every day, and you suppressed a small cry at the sudden loss of a connection you didn’t even know you longed for until now.

You made your way to the biggest tent you could reasonably see, one that you quickly recognised as the Sully family tent. It was ornate and adorned with intricate designs and two large fire lamps framing each side of the opening. It was a sight to behold, and you realised that it hasn’t changed much since you last visited. You also started to take note of the stares boring into your side from all around you and felt grateful at how close you were to the tent’s entrance. 

Almost on command, Jake Sully peered out of the tent and you watched as a wide smile replaced his previously confused expression. He was a handsome man, as much so now as he was in the still frames of your past. He was dressed in celebratory garments, a fiery red loincloth dropping from his waist and a dazzling beaded neck piece that matched. He had several arm bands circling his arms, and you took note of the way the colour palette matched that of Toruk, and how well that seemed to compliment him. He was a handsome man, you thought to yourself. Damn the Sullys and their genetics.

“Y/N, my God you’ve grown. What the hell happened??” He said, enthusiastically. He circled you curiously and eyed you intently. You tried not too blush at the sudden scrutiny and how it mirrored your own just a few moments ago. “You have time to lift weights in between experiments??” 

You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Jake. It’s good to see you, it’s been a while.”

“It’s been too long. You never visit, but we’re hoping that will change soon.” He said, then eyed the kids behind him, and whatever expression he was met with made him quickly bite on his bottom lip and turn around, as if to stop himself from saying any more. 

A small shriek came from behind him, one that you instantly recognise and you smile widely at the little girl, who, since you last saw her, somehow became as tall as you.

“Tuk-tuk”, you say warmly and watch the animated figure jump up and down and encircle you roughly in a bear-hug. Damn, she’s stronger than you already, you sighed. 

“Y/N! I have missed you so muchhh, you have to ask mum and dad to let me come to the lab more often, I never get to see you anymore!!” She cried in your neck, still holding on to you for dear life. 

“I know, dear girl. I missed you, too. I’ll make sure it will never be this long before we see each other again, how does that sound?” You speak to this child you love like your own sister in Na’vi, her English skills the least proficient. She nodded her head vigorously and with that, let go. 

She took your hand in hers and made her way into the tent, and you felt relief flood your being at finally being out of people’s sights. Two majestic women, tall and mighty as the Valkyries in your mum’s Norse Mythology books stood by the fire. They were chatting softly to each other and stopped as they heard you come in. 

Neytiri and Mo’at looked at you intently and you felt yourself cower under the intensity of their gaze. Neytiri slowly approached you with movements so nimble and fluid you were thinking she could have made a career as a ballerina back on Earth. 

After a while, she kneeled on the ground in front of you and placed her long, toned arm on your much tinier shoulder. 

“My Child, you have grown so much.” She smiled kindly at you, and you felt yourself tear up at her choice of words addressing you.My child…

Before you could stop yourself, you felt your arms cross the space between you and circle her neck. The necklace she was wearing scratched your skin painfully, but you didn’t care. “I see you. I’m sorry.” 

Neytiri’s arms tightened around you and you heard a smile in her voice as she said “Oh, my sweet child, you don’t have to be sorry.” 

You spent the evening catching up. You told them about your work in the lab, about how you all scrambled to find any cure or at least partial treatment to the illnesses that seem to have escalated recently among the tribes’ people. They tell you about training, Lo’ak and Neteyam’s training as well as Kiri’s, who has been spending most of her time learning the ways of the Tsahik, having a natural skill for it. 

You find yourself drooling at the delectable food, and are happy when Mo’at calls everyone to the meal around the fire pit in the centre of the tent. You wait for everyone to get a portion first, and smile fondly when Neyriti passes you a leaf with all the goodies on it. You dig in, realising how famished you actually were. 

“So, Y/N”, Jake starts, “how does it feel being 18? I remember turning 18, don’t remember much else about that day though”, he says, smiling proudly to himself. 

“Feels just the same as being 17, I’m afraid. Was really hoping the Universe might give me some sort of sign or epiphany or, anything, really, but, in reality, I feel the same as I did yesterday, and all the days before that. The food’s much better today, though” You finish with a grin, as you dig into another piece of teylu. 

“Right, well, about that.. us and the kids thought, with you spending so much time on your own, you deserve a special birthday and some special gifts. Now you can see them in the corner of the tent there, but I warn you, you’re not allowed to open them until back at the lab.”

You peered over his shoulder curiously, and were again disappointed to have to wait for a surprise you didn’t want in the first place.

“After dinner, we can all go back to the lab, and you can open them in the hub while we watch, we know how much you love being surprised!” 

“Wow, going out after curfew, I actually do feel kind of special.”

“You should, kid.”

Putting all the wrapped objects on the back of a Pa’li, you watched as Jake mounted his own and motioned for you to get on, in front of him. You did as you were told quietly, and the entire family made its way towards the lab. It was a much quicker journey back, and soon enough you found yourself dismounting in front of the cold heavy walls of the hub. Before you could enter though, Lo’ak passed you a cloth of some sort, and wordlessly asked for you to tie it around your eyes. 

“Oh, come oon!”, you said with a deep groan, but obliged regardless. What was the point of resisting now. You knew one thing though, you were very excited to go back to bed tonight, as the emotional toll this day was taking on you was, although not worse than expected, heavy enough for you to feel its weight for days to come. 

As soon as you entered the lab and removed your mask, you put the covering over your eyes, and felt Lo’ak, you knew, pick you up from the ground and carry you bridal style through the halls of the hub. You couldn’t quite tell where you were going, but you heard snickering behind you, and soon enough, Lo’ak put you down carefully and turned you around to face him.

“Now, Y/N, you’re gonna turn around and we’re going to need you to not pass out. Deal?” 

“What? This is strange, guys.” 

You felt him turn you around and felt gentle hands unwrap the cloth covering your eyes. Your eyes took a minute to adjust to the bright artificial light of the lab, and then pause.

One. Two. Three. 

You couldn’t quite comprehend what was clearly displayed in front of you. You recognised your surroundings quickly enough. The Morgue, the other humans called it. A room where the avatars of the dead humans, now serving no purpose, were kept in their respective incubators. Your eyes were immediately drawn, as if on instinct, to your mum’s avatar. You never came here, you couldn’t. Your gaze then shifted to the incubator to the left of your mum’s, the one that hosted Grace Augustin, Kiri’s mum. On the right of your mum, though, there was usually an empty incubator. There, now floated and twitched a body, blue, tall and strong, connected to an artificial umbilical cord. You peered at it intently, something about it making you shift uncomfortably towards it. Suddenly, you felt yourself stiffen in shock, and heard a loud thud as the mask and the connecting oxygen pack dropped to the ground. The new blue body looked like… you.

Neteyam couldn’t stop staring at his baby brother’s back as he carried you in his arms, and he couldn’t stop the twinge of jealousy that bubbled deep beneath the surface.He got to carry you, he got to touch you, he got to laugh with you every damn time he pleased, and now he gets to introduce you to your new life. 

Neteyam, just like the rest of his family, has known about this for months, maybe longer. Norm, his dad’s closest friend, came to the village one day and announced to the family that him and the rest of the scientists worked tirelessly for years to figure out a way to make you an avatar, and with a lot of help from your deceased’s mother’s work and research, as well as some of her DNA, they cracked the code. The newly made Avatar was a miracle of sorts, nobody having thought it would be possible to create on Pandora, so far from all the resources normally used to make one back on Earth. But they did it, and it will be ready in time for your 18th birthday. Norm wanted to make sure, if it succeeded and you accepted it, they will in turn accept you in the village, just like they accepted Jake so many years ago. He wanted you to be able to have a life, not just a body, and be able to finally be free of the shackles you have created for yourself for years on end. 

Neteyam couldn’t tell how he felt about it, partly due to the fact he’s stopped himself from thinking about it since he’s found out. Whilst his siblings and even parents were buzzing in excitement, he was scared. If you were to now be there, in the village, in his life, every day, he will be forced to deal with you, with the two of you, and the feelings he knew were buried in him for a reason. He stopped at the top of the stairs of the room where he knew the Avatar lay. Nobody cared about him at the moment, and, as a result, was relieved to figure out he doesn’t have to join you in the room and see your future body, currently inanimate and floating in liquid he didn’t know or didn’t want to know the origins of. If this was to happen anyway, he’d rather meet you properly, and see if the same flicker of curiosity and unruly smile could ever reflect in the same way it does on your current face, the one that still haunts his dreams.

You couldn’t formulate words… or thoughts, for that matter. You stared at the Avatar for what it feels like hours, and finally, Norm cleared his throat and spoke.

“I know this is a lot to take in. But we wanted your 18th to be special, Ace. We have been working in secret for years to get this done, because you deserve it. You deserve the world, and you can’t have it in this lab. This world also deserves you. So now you can go and show it what you’ve got.” 

“We’re so happy for you to join us, my child.” You heard Neyriri join in. 

“Do you want to see the gifts we made for you?” Tuk jumped in, enthusiastically.

With a last look at your Avatar, you turned around and faced the people you knew would be looking at you expectantly. You didn’t know what the feelings you were feeling were, but they were all fighting to take over, and you felt yourself becoming dizzy. Steading yourself, you recognised that words will have to appear on your tongue sooner or later, and you managed to get out a whisper “Sure, Tuk-tuk, let’s go!”

Everyone around you exchanged weird looks; they really thought you would be a lot happier about this than you were. You tried your best to put on a happy smile and react in the way you knew people would be wanting you to; after all, this was indeed an incredibly nice, thoughtful and attentive gift, not to mention damn fucking impressive, and whatever trauma the thought of having to pilot this Avatar brought in you, it was something you were going to have to deal with by yourself, later. 

“Guys, I know I have not reacted in a way appropriate for the sheer insane size and meaning of this gift, but I promise that despite my very slow processing times, I am incredibly grateful and happy for this. I cannot believe something like this is even possible, and I can believe even less that it was done for me! But while I struggle to comprehend the magnitude of what’s going to happen to me, let’s open some presents!!” 

You made your way slowly towards the recreation hub where all the packages were placed on one of the long tables. You chuckled awkwardly and took one of them in your hands. The wrapping, you realised, was the same material like the one used to make the Na’vi loincloths. 

The one you held in your hands currently was blue. You unwrapped it, careful as to not damage it at all, and was shocked to see a dazzling necklace, one of the most beautiful ones you have even seen. It was a leather chocker, which adorned green and red stones, and it reminded you a lot of the bracelet you were currently wearing. You turned around and looked at Kiri, whose masterful hands you knew crafted it. She was sitting on one of the benches and you couldn’t help become emotional looking at your friend, your amazing friend, who you have known all of your life, and who always collected trinkets from the woods, trinkets that now will decorate your new body. 

The next package was heavier, and upon opening it, you were shocked to discover a rider’s mask, like the one the Na’vi wear when flying an Ikran; it was brown and braided and had bones adorning it. The lenses were translucent and shone in iridescent hues as you looked at it from all angles. You were in awe at the inadvertent admission that someone thought you capable of one day passing the Iknimaya, and you felt quite confident in saying Lo’ak was the master behind this gift. 

“I thought, you will definitely need it one day, and I wanted to get a jump start.” He says, as if reading your mind. “You may not know it now, but I think you were born for this, Angel.” 

You had no words to say to that, but were touched at how Lo’ak always seemed to believe in you more than you believed in yourself. You took a silent oath to try to live up to the version of you Lo’ak kept with him in his heart. 

The second to last package was also quite small and seemed to rattle as you picked it up. As you unwrapped it, you didn’t quite make sense of the bundle of feathers and chains, but eventually Neytiri kindly stepped in and untangled it, and you realised it was a top, a beautiful, sheer top, and you found it hard to believe this will actually cover anything. You were excited to put it on though, and felt a tingle of anticipation for tomorrow that was not there before… these were yours, for your body, for your future, a future where riding your own Ikran might be more than just a dream of an out-of-reach fantasy.

“Thank you so much.” You wanted to say more, you wanted to tell them the turmoil in your heart and how scared you truly were, and how you wish they would understand and reach over and heal the broken mess that was your mind so you could finally just go, get out of this place and make your life something actually worth living, but you couldn’t make any other words come out. So you just said thank you.

As the family and the scientists continued chatting, you managed to slip by unnoticed out of the recreation hub and made your way down the hall, looking for the missing Sully you knew would be somewhere in here, by himself. You were so mad at him, so much resentment had built up in you from the year you’ve spent apart, from the less than ideal reunion, and from his continuous attempts to avoid you at all costs. It was your birthday, for god’s sake. He could at least pretend to be happy to be here, even if only for the sake of the memories you shared. 

You found him in your room, looking over the books in your makeshift library, mindlessly playing with something in his large hands. His ears twitched as you approached, an obvious sign he heard you, but made no effort to acknowledge your presence. You half smiled at the view, and tried not to remember all the other times he has been in your room, just like he was now. You sat on your bed and waited patiently for him to speak, like you once used to do. It might take some time, but he always spoke.

“I don’t think you should do it.” He says, without looking at you. 

“You think I shouldn’t do what?”

“This, the Avatar thing. I think it’s a bad idea.”

You sat there, in silence for a while while his words twirled in your mind like his green bracelet was twirling in his hands. You didn’t realise your mouth was wide open until you felt it dry up and you swallowed involuntarily in response.  

“Excuse me?”

He turned around to face you and you saw a hard look mark his features, the old Neteyam, your old Neteyam merely a long-forgotten dream. 

“You’re not going to make it, Y/N. You haven’t spent more than a week outside in the past 3 years. You may think you got this, cause you work out in a dark stuffy room with some weights and jump a rope, but it’s not going to mean jack shit when you’re out there, in a wilderness so harsh it claims brave Na’vi men and women’s lives every day. You may think you know everything because you sit here hunched over books written by humans who couldn’t see even if it hit them in the face with a stick, but you know nothing about the real world. Nothing about what’s waiting for you starting tomorrow, if you do this. Tell Norm no.” 

The rage you felt blossomed like deadly nightshade and you knew whatever it was you once felt for Neteyam was dead and buried six-feet-under in that moment. You let out a bitter chuckle and rose up from the bed, placing your body in front of him.

“You know, when I saw you standing here, in my room, after all this time, I felt some sort of sick hope. I hoped you had finally come to your senses and decided you would apologise for the way you’ve treated me. For the way you left. I’m not stupid, believe it or not. I never expected whatever we had to last. After all,  it was only a matter of time before the mighty future Olo’eyktan realised his attentions are better focused on more worthwhile things, like training, or, I don’t know, finding the best future Tsahik. I always expected you to outgrow me. I just had an ounce of hope you would have enough decency to do it while looking me in the eye. I felt like I earned that, after all the blood, sweat and tears I gave you.” 

“You know, I fucking hate surprises. I just never thought you’d be one of the reasons why.”

The silence felt heavy and all you could hear was your panting breath, as you were trying to reign in your tempestuous emotions and the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“Get the fuck out of my room, Neteyam.” 

You found yourself forcefully taking the bracelet from his much larger hand and removing yourself from his path, motioning towards the open door. He left without saying a word and you shut the door behind you with a loud thud.

So far 18 was not your favourite age. 

#neteyam #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfic #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam sully fanfiction #neteyam angst #awow #awow neteyam #loak reader #avatar loak #Youtube

[ghosts-cant-sleep]

last night i dreamt we did our laundry together

re2 leon kennedy x male! reader

warnings: yearning.

notes: n/a.

fem dni.

Morning dew clung to the windows, a hazy, young dawn hanging as a heavy blue blanket over the slowly waking city.

A still morning, just as good as any other. Silence only broken by the scuffing of shoes echoing from the other side of the break room door, the buzzing of the fridge, the slow turning of the fan, it's blades creaking.

[Name]'s nails tapped against the flimsy paper of his coffee cup, it's heat warming his palms, held snug between both hands, fingers interlocked. Coffee had stained the outside of the cup, the outline of a long drop stretching down the length. He was never great at keeping his hands still.

He had tried to whipe similar spills he'd caused on the one he'd brought in for Leon, but to little avail. He could0 only hope the fact it was free coffee would make up for its messiness. That, and the handful of a few different creamers he'd brought-- he wasn't exactly sure how Leon took his coffee.

He kept his gaze glued to his own cup, all too aware of his own body as he sat in the flimsy metal chairs, the slightest shift of his elbows causing the table to shift and wobbling-- the damn old thing-- how the fabric of his slacks clung to his legs, his shoes digging into the back of his heel.

Every thought that passed through his head neared either destructive, or delusional-- the in-between was negligible, and in the past few months, he hasn't thought of much else besides the man infront of him.

He didn't like the word *crush.* It felt childish-- immature. He was a man, not some school boy fauning on the playground. Unfortunately, there was no better word to describe what he felt, try as he might to find one.

Even worse than that was the way his own mind toyed with him because of it.

In fleeting moments, he swore those butterflies in his stomach, the rapid beating of his heart, the genuine want to come into work for more than just his paycheck, were all mutual. What else could it all mean? The lingering gazes, the routine 'good night's' and 'mornings' they exchanged, the little grazes of Leon's palm right between his shoulder blades as he moved past, knees brushing whenever they sat just a little to close to eachother at roll call. God, what else could it mean?

Then, the next minute, [Name]'s world seemed to dull around him the moment any womans name rolled off Leon's toungue. Dread would wrap its heavy hands around his throat and squeeze till every word died in mouth.

He never entertained the idea of a confession either. He'd built up something good with Leon, made himself a friend in an utterly imposing city, and a great one at that. It'd be selfish of him to throw it all out for something as trivial as this.

He often didn't trust himself enough to keep that promise most days. On late nights, especially. The two of them in the station, wasting away the night while they were supposed to be working. His teeth dug into his toungue much harsher those days.

"Hey," Leon's voice cuts through his thoughts, a rush of nerves and anxiety swiftly bunching in his gut in painful, tight knots.

[Name]'s eyes snap to Leon's, breath stilling. He worries he'd somehow given himself away. Was he thinking out loud, staring without realizing, or was there an undeniable want in his eyes he could never hide?

He takes in every inch of Leon's face, his expression, the slight twitch of his muscles beneath the skin of cheeks, the ones he were hardly aware of. A crease between his brows, bunched together, a tense pursing of his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching into a frown.

"You alright there?" Leon finally asks, head tipping to the side, blonde hair sweeping over his brow. From beneath the table, his foot nudges against [Name]'s.

"Yeah," [Name] breathes out all too quickly, the heat of embarrassment washing over his skin, his clothes feeling all the more unbearable. "Just a long night is all," he tries to laugh it off, bringing a coffee-warmed hand to the circles under his eyes, trying to rub them from his face, maybe give Leon something more pleasant to look at.

Leon's unconvinced. He usually is. This would all be much less nerve-wracking if he'd just been a smidge dumber.

"Right." Still, as he always does, he nods, face shifting into that smile of his. The overall softening of his features, lips tilting up, the edges of his top teeth peaking out as his lips part. This time around, his grin doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, you know I'm always here if you need anything."

"Yeah," [Name] pulls his gaze back down to his hands, leaning further back into his seat.

Leon was a hard man not to like, and this was just another example. Relentlessly compassionate and kind. Always there to stick his neck out for everyone and anyone. Just talking to him made everything feel so much lighter. [Name] wasn't even half the man Leon was, and it was nearly that reason alone [Name] knew Leon would always deserve much more than him.

"What was it?"

[Name]'s attention is swiftly brought back to Leon. "What was what?"

"Y'know... What was keeping you up?"

"Oh." You, god it was you-- it's always *fucking* you. A gwaing ache eating him from the inside out, cracking open his ribs and making a home in the deepest parts of his being. Arm wrapped around a pillow, face burried into the fabric, pretending he could hear a heart beating beneath the casing. Burring himself under layers of thick blankets, manufacturing a warm embrace. His own hand ran it's fingers up and down the side of his ribs, trying to imagine what it'd feel like if it wasn't his own touch for once. "Nothing really. Just uh, stayed up thinking, I guess."

"About what?

"Just, uh, paper work, and stuff... I dunno, really. You know how late nights can get," he weakly laughs. Every word that slipped from his tongue felt like an awkward caricature of what a normal person should sound like. "When I did manage to get to sleep-- it was really only for a few minutes, really. Felt more like a nap, really, but I feel like you can't really call them naps at night. I still ended up staying awake for most of the night, so. Uhm, but you were in my dream, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. It was about you-- or, I guess not *about* you. It's just, you were in it, like us-- you and me, I guess. So, it was kind of about us."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"... Well, don't leave me hanging here. What happened?"

"I mean, I don't really know how to explain it," he mutters with a soft breath. He pulls a nerves breath from the tension-thick air around them, stuffy and near suffocating. He takes a hasty sip of his coffee, burning the tip of his tongue, holding back a wince. It was all an attempt to stall, to give himself a chance to get a damn grip. "We were in my house, like, my childhood house, back in my hometown. We were in my parents' room, but the furniture was all different-- like switched around, y'know? And we were just... sitting on the bed, folding some laundry."

"Folding laundry?" he repeats with a small laugh.

It felt remarkably real in the moment. He woke up nearly believing he'd fallen asleep in a pile of freshly washed clothes. He'd smelt the detergent, the warm of the clothes on his hands, the dip in the bed from Leon's weight in front of him.

"Yeah," [Name] attempted to echo the sound, voice cracking at the end. "Folding laundry. There was some song playing, but it wasn't really coming from anywhere. I didn't really recognize it, and to tell you the truth, I don't even remember what it sounded like, but we were both singing along. It wasn't all that bad."

But, he'd woken up to the dreery ceiling of his apartment, blankets half off his bed, yet still sweating.

"Doesn't sound all that bad," Leon concedes after a tentative sip of his coffee. "Not sure how happy I'd be after dreaming about chores. Can't say I enjoy doing laundry all that much.

"Yeah, I mean, me neither." His body moves without much thought behind it, mirroring Leon's as if second nature.

Nobody liked chores, laundry least of all, but some company made it feel all the better. He'd like it, [Name] thinks, at least. Something about the thought of standing by the sink, hands scrubbed away as dried food with a flimsy sponge, even if Leon just sat by the counter, talking about anything and everything. He could do that for hours. Shoving dirty uniforms into the washing machine, filling out tax forms, picking up around the apartment, arguing over identical paint swatches. Maybe they'd have a dastardly little creature running around, wreaking havoc; maybe a cat, maybe a kid. Existing with him.

It was stupid dream, one he'd do well to forget about as soon as he could

"... Anything else?"

"... Yeah, actually. You were wearing those bright-ass white shoes. Somehow, they looked even goofier than usual. So, pretty accurate a things considered."

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x male reader #leon x male reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x male reader #warsh by whatever dad save me... #save me warsh by whatever dad....

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: So I am weak, here is the first part of the Waking up in PJO Series, I drew inspiration from a lot of different series and I’ll credit them all at the end. I hope you enjoy this and if you want to be added to the tag list please drop a comment :)

* Your first thought when you wake up is:

* Oh geez, not again

* ‘What is this, the thirtieth world?’

* You’re starting to get tired of this

* To make matters worse you’re never the same age

* One day you’re nineteen, the next time you’re twelve, the time after you’re twenty-one —

* And this time you’re an infant, a handful of months old at most.

* You’re swaddled in a thick blanket, held against a woman’s pillowy chest.

* ‘What kind of backwater system am I going to have to fix this time.’ You wonder, bitterness ringing through your thoughts.

* You aren’t allowed to be bitter for long, the gentle sensation of a warm chest and familiar scent lull you back to sleep again.

* ‘I have an entire life in this body this time, I should do it right.’ You think

* You’re three years old the next time you’re able to process cognitive thoughts.

* ‘Well this hardly seems fair.’

* You look straight ahead, staring into the abyss, and your father looks back at you.

* He doesn’t look like your original dad, but that’s hardly surprising. You’ve been in a dozen or so worlds where your parents don’t look like your parents—

* ‘At least I always look like myself though.’

* This time your father is a younger man, in his early twenties, he has jet black hair that seems to stick in every direction, skin the color of pale moonlight, and heterochromic eyes; one amber and the other green, both remind you of swirling galaxies.

* But the most noteworthy thing about him is that he seems to be tinged in red. The hue saturates his knuckles, flushes across the bridge of his nose, and stains the whites of his eyes.

* ‘He doesn’t look angry though,’

* “Daddy what’s wrong?” You ask, your small hand resting on his face.

* ‘Just sad.’

* His large, calloused hand, covers your own.

* “Nothing baby, I’m just so happy you’re here.”

* You’re four when you realize you’re stuck in Percy Jackson

* Your teacher is crouched on the ground, her blue apron soiled with the playground dirt

* That much wouldn’t be all that surprising, the power of despair always stays with you regardless of what body you’re in, radiating from you like an aura to everyone around you if you let it.

* Even more unsurprising is that this small body can’t handle your emotions very well yet. Small outbursts are to be expected.

* What is surprising is the snake strangled in your small fist.

* ‘Normal four year olds can’t strangle snakes.’ You think numbly as your pre-school teacher fluctuates between hysterics and crippling despair.

* You calm yourself down enough after loosening your hold, soothing your teacher the best you can.

* “It’s okay see, we’re both okay.”

* You doubt this is some anime world where even children are overpowered and people seem to heal in a couple of minutes.

* And it doesn’t seem like an original world either, this is a very American landscape.

* ‘What city is this again?’

* New York, Manhattan to be exact

* Something about strangling a snake felt awfully familiar, not to mention that warm golden hue when you were a baby.

* Think about this objectively, your mom is not around, you’re strong but not anime or video game overpowered, and you’re in an American setting.

* You’re about to fall asleep for your afternoon nap when it hits you

* ‘Oh shit, I’m in Percy Jackson.’

* It seems unlikely, but wilder things have happened

* ‘Maybe it was only a matter of time. Still there’s only one way to confirm it.’

* “Hey Daddy,” your father glances at you from the rear view mirror in the car. “Why don’t I have a mommy?”

* You feel bad asking your father a question you know will bring him pain, especially when you see hurt flash in his eyes.

* Your father is a handsome man, well built with beautiful eyes, you wouldn’t be surprised if a goddess found him appealing.

* “Your mother went somewhere far away, somewhere you and I can’t follow for a long time.”

* On one hand he makes it sound like she passed away

* On the other hand this is a very vague statement, for all you know your mother is in Olympus or seducing her next victim.

* “What was she like?” Your legs swing underneath you.

* “Your mother was, is, the love of my life.” He reaffirms. “She brought warmth with her into every room she entered, and she was the kindest soul I ever encountered.”

* Even now he looks positively dazzled when he speaks about her.

* ‘So my mom is a goddess, great.’

* His description doesn’t help either, at best it’s a vague description and at worst they’re the words of an unreliable narrator.

* ‘So his love sickness aside, maybe my mom is a minor goddess like Hestia, or maybe Nike or Themis.’

* Though who knows, maybe his description’s completely off and your mom is someone like Athena or Artemis.

* Regardless of who your mom is,

* “Come on baby, I heard you had a bad day at preschool today, I’ll make you something yummy to make up for it.” Your father promises, holding you tenderly against his chest as you make your way up to your familiar Apartment in Manhattan, waving hello to the doorman of your building.

* You’re glad you have your dad

* He may not be a parent your recognize from a previous life, but the way he holds you so gently, the familiar scent that wafts over you — like spring and amber mixed together — has your eyes drooping close

* “I love you daddy.” You yawn against his neck

* “I love you too baby.”

* You’re seven years old when you meet the black dog for the first time.

* You’re walking home from elementary school, sighing as you cross the street.

* ‘I have to be more careful, Dad practically had a heart attack last night when he saw me reading the book about Greek mythology.’

* “W-why are you reading that book sweetie?”

* “The pictures looked pretty.”

* “W-w-well what about this one? Don’t you think these pictures are prettier?”

* You’re going to have to start handling your research with more tact.

* ‘I get about 30 minutes a day for silent reading, but if I choose a book about Greek mythology everyday my teacher will mention it to my dad, I’ll need to limit myself to one day a week.’

* You’re thinking of making a schedule of things to study every day so you might just appear like a very organized child, instead of the freak you are.

* That’s when you see it.

* On appearance alone it doesn’t seem like anything all that special, the dog is large, a black Great Dane with big brown eyes and a tail wagging a mile a minute.

* And in its mouth is a bright red ball.

* Despite yourself a smile twitches on your lips as you get closer, you’ve seen dog body language enough to know when an animal is uncomfortable

* “Hey boy, what are you doing out here all alone?” You hold out your hand expecting to receive an introspective sniff, but instead the dog placed his whole face on your hand.

* You laugh as you pat his head

* “Why’d your owner leave you alone like this?” You wonder aloud, the dog looks like a purebred, and he’s friendly and social too — it doesn’t appear to be abandonment, but he doesn’t have a leash, just a collar with blue gemstones embedded into luxurious leather.

* ‘Whoever’s dog this is, they must be rich.’

* Not that your father seemed to be hurting for money either considering he’s sending you to all the best schools in Manhattan

* The dog drops the ball into your hand when you still

* Does he want to play fetch?

* It’s only when you look down you see it’s not a ball at all.

* “A pomegranate?”

* Before you can think about what kind of person gives a dog a pomegranate to play with, the dog gives you one final lick before leaping away, leaving you standing alone in the middle of the street.

* “Well that was weird.”

* You meet her when you’re eight years old

* She’s adorned in a varsity jacket, a flip phone in one hand and a dog leash in the other

* The black dog from earlier wags it’s tail

* ‘So this is the bad owner.’

* She looks like a college student, maybe twenty at most. With jet black hair and bright green eyes.

* ‘She looks familiar’

* There’s a certain tint to her though, a gold tint that lingers on her skin, gold flecks in her eyes, a golden sheen to her hair, you don’t know what to make of it.

* “Hey kid, do you know me?”

* “Yeah you’re the lady I’m going to report to my teacher when I get to school.”

* The woman sputters with laughter, her hand covering her mouth as her dog shuffled towards you, pressing its nose against your hand. You pet instinctively.

* ‘You really deserve a better owner. How hard would it be to incapacitate this woman and steal her dog?’ You muse.

* “Looks like Cerb has taken a liking to you.” She states, the dogs practically curled around you it’s head in your small hands.

* “You named your dog Cerb? Like Cerberus?” You feel like the name fits a Rottweiler better than a soft hearted Great Dane.

* “I didn’t pick the name, I inherited him from a distant family member recently.” She shrugs, patting her side, the dog pouts but obediently returns to her side.

* “I’ll see you around kid.”

* ‘This is starting to get weird.’

* You wonder for a second if that was your mother but dispel the thought.

* ‘Dad could do better.’

* You stumble into adolescence without a hitch, running into the college student and her Greek mythology named dog.

* You learn her name is Maki and she’s a sophomore at a local university.

* “So are you in college?” You ask.

* “I guess you could say that, I’m getting a degree in architecture at NYU.” You nod.

* You mainly put up with her to pet her dog.

* And you continue your research into the gods, hoping you might find a clue about who your mother is.

* “They seem very interested in Mythology, they even have a schedule on what type to learn more about everyday, it’s still early but archeology may be a good field of study for them.” Your teacher tells your father during the semi-annual parent teacher conference.

* Your father can barely contain his joy, a wobbly smile over his mouth as he ruffles your hair.

* “They’ve always been fairly independent, but if there’s anything I can do to support them as a parent please let me know.”

* ‘I wonder what dad does to be able to afford all this.’

* It’s something you’ve never really thought of much until now, but the penthouse apartment in Manhattan, the elite private schools, even the designer clothes you wear — the money has to come from somewhere.

* ‘He does seem to work a lot.’

* Your dad is always there for you before school and after school, but you’ve seen him mulling over a stack of paperwork a handful of times when you woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, a heavy sigh heaving from his lips as he leaded through the documents.

* ‘Maybe he’s an executive and he just has really good boundaries.’ You think to yourself.

* You’re also growing fairly certain that your mother was a minor goddess, for one you don’t seem to have any special powers aside from your usual despair aura, and second…

* The monsters are few and far-between. There’s been the odd occasion naturally, a snake that tried to poison you, an Eagle that latched onto your arm and refused to let go, a man with only one eye that eyed you from outside the playground, but one look from you was enough to make them scamper away.

* ‘I must not be worth the trouble to them.’

* Besides it’s not like you need protecting, as long as you have your despair no monster on earth can harm you.

* As you walk home, slightly disappointed that Maki and her dog aren’t at the park today, you think maybe this is okay.

* You don’t need to know who your mother is, your blood is weak enough that you won’t need to go to camp half-blood, you can live a nice long life with your father.

* You smile at the doorman as you walk into the marble lobby of your apartment building.

* ‘Maybe this time there aren’t any problems I need to fix.’ You think as you step onto the elevator.

* ‘Maybe this time I can live a nice peaceful life with my super rich dad.’ You decide, tapping the key code into your door before turning the handle.

* You’re greeted with the usual sight of your father, but instead of his usual place on his favorite armchair, he’s seated on the sofa, his mouth stretched in a tense fine line.

* Across from him is a woman, if you had to describe her you’d say she resembled a peony. Everything about her felt like a blossoming flower, pink cheeks, perfectly well manicured pink fingernails. She has long brown hair the color of tree bark, and bright green eyes.

* She’s adorned in a white pantsuit, and stares at you with an amused smile twitching on her lips.

* “(Y/N), come sit by me very quickly.” Your fathers words are strained and tinged in urgency, the woman rolls her eyes.

* “Oh come now Zagreus, you think I would hurt my own grandchild?”

* “It’s never seemed to stop you before.” He grumbles.

* Your eyes flick from the woman to your father.

* The last puzzle piece fits into place.

* All this time you’ve been fixated on your mother, believing her to be of godly lineage.

* ‘But that’s Persephone, and if she’s my grandmother—‘

* ‘Then I’ve been looking at this wrong the whole time.’

* “It was just the one time Zagreus, and I already told you I don’t approve of Thanatos as a son in law, naturally I wouldn’t approve of their children either.”

* ‘Because that means my dad is Zagreus.’

* This entire time your godly parent has been right under your nose, a mere hallway across from you in your own home.

* “Well shit.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! I wanted to credit a few series that I drew a lot of inspiration from which include Hades, Circe by Madeline Miller, and Lore Olympus.

Also a shout out to the anon who guessed it below, hope it was still a surprise! As always if you want to be added to the tag list please COMMENT and I’ll add you until it’s full! 💖

#percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #Percy Jackson x you #hades game #hades x reader #Zagreus x reader #lore olympus #lore Olympus x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #pjo imagine #percy pjo #pjo x you #pjo x y/n #pjo x reader #Luke castellan x reader #Luke castellan imagine #jason grace #Jason grace x reader #waking up in percy jackson #waking up in Percy Jackson series #superhero—imagines

[joannechocolat]

Dear Mr X...

It’s hard to give up a relationship, even when it has become toxic. Even when it brings you no joy, it’s hard to accept the fact that you’re better off without it. To look at the time you spent building it, to write off those years and start again can feel like jumping off a cliff into a bottomless precipice. You start to think of all the things you’ll lose if the relationship ends; the good times, the shared friends, the laughter and the memories. Your heart sinks at the thought of trying to rebuild all that from scratch. The time. The work. The energy. It feels like a bereavement.

I feel like that about Twitter now. A relationship that began fifteen years ago, when I was someone different, and the platform was new and hopeful and designed for communication, rather than spreading division. Sometimes I still find myself mourning that time; the friends I made; the stories I wrote, the thousands of incarnations of the Shed. Some of my friends have been left there for good, their Twitter accounts frozen in time; their words all that remains of them. Perhaps that’s why I’m reluctant to leave, even though the bluebirds have flown, and even the logo is changing to something that looks to me a lot like a modified swastika – an apt comparison, given the way in which certain voices and political views have been given unasked-for prominence, while others seem to have vanished altogether from my feed. Feed someone garbage for long enough, and they start to sicken and die. That’s what happening via this site. I have watched it happening ever since Elon Musk arrived - a man so cartoonishly self-obsessed that it’s hard to even believe he’s real, except that no writer of fiction or game designer would dream of creating such a crass and substandard character.

X. What a choice of symbol.

X marks the spot for pirates in search of buried treasure. X is the mark of a person who is unable to write their name. X is the identity of someone who needs to stay anonymous. It’s a voter’s mark; an erasure; a mystery; a chromosome.

And it’s also an occult symbol, a rune: the rune Gyfu according to the Old English Futhorc, and Gebo in the Elder Futhark; both of which translate as “gift”.

The Anglo-Saxon rune poem that accompanies it goes like this:

ᚷ Gẏfu gumena bẏþ gleng and herenẏs, ƿraþu and ƿẏrþscẏpe and ƿræcna gehƿam ar and ætƿist, ðe bẏþ oþra leas.

which translates as follows:

Generosity brings credit and honour, which support one's dignity; it furnishes help and subsistence to all broken men who are devoid of aught else.

At first glance, this seems the opposite of what Elon Musk has done for the world. A man who sees social media as his own personal platform; a man who sees the cosmos as his own personal joy-ride.

The mistake we made was believing that Twitter was our playground. Elon Musk has made it his, and is currently in the process of breaking the toys, chopping down the trees and nuking the site from orbit, just to prove that play is overrated, and that only money counts. I can’t help feeling sorry for the little boy he must have been, and to wonder what he might have been like if he’d actually had any friends. But it’s time: and the change of branding makes it even easier to step away.

So maybe this is a kind of gift to the ones of us leaving Twitter. Misinformation, misogyny, transphobia, conspiracy theories and other kinds of social media poison have already made it increasingly difficult to feel safe there. (And fun fact, the word Gift in German happens to mean “poison”.) Perhaps the ultimate gift of X is the freedom from the toxicity that has built up in this most volatile of media; the gift of better mental health; of greater connection to our world; an escape from a toxic fantasy back into the open air.

I won’t leave altogether – Threads still isn’t open to Europe, and the jury’s still out on Bluesky - but I don’t want to give any more of my content to a man who values power and money over human connection. I’m @joannechocolat across all my social media - that’s Threads, Bluesky, Tumblr and Instagram – and I’ll still be posting stories on my ko-fi account at: https://ko-fi.com/story. But if you want to know what I’m doing, then sign up to my free newsletter on my website at joanne-harris.co.uk. I’m coming to believe that social media as I once knew it may have run its course for me: I won’t leave it altogether, but from now on I plan to invest more of my time and energy elsewhere.

And as for Mr X - I doubt you’ll be around forever. But while you are, my gift to you is this final story: written live on Twitter, as was, for all the little bluebirds.

There once was a boy who had no friends. His father gave him everything money can buy: toy cars, model aeroplanes, even rockets that really flew, but friends were impossible to buy, and the boy was lonely, angry, and bored. 

One day, when he was playing alone with one of his expensive toys, he saw a group of children playing in a nearby park. They sounded so merry and carefree that the boy was jealous. 

“Why don’t I have friends?” he cried. “I shall buy the park, and then everyone will notice me.”

And so the boy asked his father to buy him the park for his very own; and he settled there with his expensive toys, and put a notice on the gate, saying: Entrance fee, 8 shillings.

The children of the neighbourhood looked enviously at the empty park. Some of the wealthier ones paid the entry fee, but many of the children did not; instead, they waited outside the gates, and looked into the place where once they had all played together.

But still the boy was not content. None of the new children played with him. Instead they played their own games, and climbed trees, or played hide and seek, or lay on the grass watching the clouds. None of this served the boy at all, and he was sulky and discontent.

“If I have all the trees cut down, then maybe the others will notice me,” he thought.

And so he ordered his servants to cut down all the trees in the park. But apart from a few toadies and flatterers, the children still did not play with him, but mocked him secretly from afar, and fell silent whenever he passed by.

“How ungrateful these children are,” said the boy, getting angry. “I bought this park for them, and still they refuse to play with me! Very well, I shall cease to pay the groundsmen and the gardeners. The park will be overrun with weeds. Wild animals will roam there.”

And so the boy did as he had promised, and the park became a wilderness. No-one wanted to pay for it, and even the toadies and flatterers and children of wealthy families went elsewhere to see their friends.

The boy was very angry at this, but there was no-one to be angry with. All the other children had gone. And so he took out his rage on the deer who had begun to roam in the park, shooting them with his toy crossbow, and became known throughout the land as a mighty hunter.

#twitter #stories

[moodymelanist]

I Guess It’s Half Timing (And The Other Half’s Luck) Chapter Five

Happy @cassianappreciationweek day 2, everyone! I came super down to the wire with this one, but now that I’m done with the bar exam (and hopefully passed) I shouldn’t be so down to the wire for the rest of the fic unless life decides to throw something else my way, lol.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy 🩷

✷✷✷✷✷ Nesta

The rest of the party went well, with everyone more than excited that the baby was a girl. They took plenty of pictures and videos with the various pink props that Feyre and Mor had stashed around the party, Nesta finding herself in the middle of so many photos with Emerie and Gwyn alone that she’d more than lost count by the time she’d done some with Cassian. She’d also consumed so much pink frosting that it was a miracle none of it had stained her mouth, and by the time she’d packed up enough leftovers to feed a small army, she knew it would take weeks before she’d be able to eat another pink food. 

When Nesta finally made it back to her apartment, it was all she could do to shower and throw on some pajamas. It had been nice getting to see everyone and be excited as a collective unit, but it was also exhausting. She wasn’t built for so much social interaction at once, especially where she was the center of attention. Cassian had been a godsend the whole day by diverting some of the attention back onto himself, and every time one of his large hands would steady her at the small of her back, it was like he’d figured out how to take all the tension out of her with just that one small gesture. 

If only he were here now to take away her newly-awakened feelings about the baby. 

Nesta had thought all this time they were having a boy, but she wouldn’t deny how excited she was at the prospect of having a girl. Would her daughter be like she’d been as a little girl, excited to discover the world through books and stories about people in faraway places? Would she sit still long enough for Nesta to make sure her hair was done and her clothes matched all the frilly, adorable accessories Nesta already wanted to buy? She hoped the baby would have Cassian’s curls just so she could use all the adorable clips and barrettes that had never stayed put in her own hair. Maybe Cassian would be good with that, considering all the experience he’d had with his own hair. God, that would be so adorable. 

But despite all the excitement, a not-insignificant part of her was absolutely terrified of having a daughter. She didn’t want to repeat the seemingly endless cycle that the women in her family had perpetuated, from whatever her grandmother had done to her daughter that had inspired the way Nesta had been treated growing up. Eira and Rhea were both long gone, but the things they’d said and done still lingered in Nesta’s bones. What if she somehow fucked up her daughter the same way she’d been fucked up as a kid? What if she didn’t even realize she was doing it? 

No. She wasn’t going to do that. She would never, ever do that. Her family had given her an exact blueprint as to what not to do when it came to raising children, and over her dead body would she put her daughter through the things she’d experienced growing up. Her daughter would grow up never having to question if she was loved. She would know that she was perfectly wonderful the way she was, and she’d be allowed to flourish in whatever direction she wanted. It didn’t matter to Nesta if her daughter wanted to tussle instead of play quietly with dolls, or if she decided to chase other girls around the playground instead of boys — or if she didn’t want to chase anyone at all. 

None of it mattered more than showering her daughter with all the unconditional love and affection she deserved. 

Nesta let her hand float down to her stomach, sliding her hand under her shirt to rest it on her little bump. 

“I love you, baby,” she whispered into the quiet of her room. It was a little strange talking to someone who couldn’t respond yet, but as she slowly drifted off to sleep, she swore there was a fluttering in her stomach like the baby was talking back to her.

Keep reading on AO3 here!

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing

#cassianappreciationweek2023 #Cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #moodymelanistwrites #pregnancy nessian fic

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 29: Bargaining

Summary: Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble... Not with everything that's come to light.

Warning: N/A

Dogma's design should give you an idea of what Cody currently looks like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

With communications reestablished, things had started going a little smoother. Enough so that, in the end, Obi-wan was forced to face the facts. Especially given the evidence Tacet had brought to him on such short notice.

This entire campaign had been a setup of the most treacherous kind.

Unlike with the incident with Sargent Slick however, the clones had not been the ones to perpetrate any of the sabotage that the Jedi had begun to investigate. Instead, what had started as a simple line of inquiry while he regained some of his strength, soon becoming a much deeper scrutinization of everything that had gone wrong after the 501st and 212th had gone their separate ways.

It had not escape his notice how all things inevitably led to Anakin's departure and Krell's arrival. The timing coinciding far too much for it to be mere chance.

And wasn't that a troublesome thought?

A Jedi Master of Krell's caliber suddenly going rogue without the Order noticing. It bare not think at all. Especially when it made some previous incidents that had easily been overlooked as innocent, take a much darker tone when faced with such damning evidence.

All those casualties, that waste of life, a warning that had gone horrifically unheeded...

Minute by minute, the overwhelmingly excruciating torment of unraveling all of the Council's accidental negligence left Obi-wan feeling weighted down by guilt. The facts had been right there. The Jedi had simply not seen them... So focused on the war efforts that they'd become somewhat complacent. Semi-willingly ignorant of things that seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

When had they stopped paying attention to the suffering of others? When had they forgotten the core values of the Order? When had it become so easy to turn a blind eye?

He wasn't sure and was honestly mortified to find out just how deep the rabbit hole might go. But there would be talks of this once he got back to Coruscant. There would be measures put in place, once he managed to arrange a meeting with the other Council members. This sort of abuse of power could never come to pass ever again.

But first, Obi-wan had to deal with current affairs on Umbara.

Starting with weighing the pros and cons of carrying on with this particular campaign's goal of establishing control over the governing forces, before Umbara broke away to join the Separatist movement. A goal he did not particularly agree with, and which was honestly starting to feel less like something the Republic should strive for.

Peace should never be built on a foundation of violent oppression and takeovers. Diplomacy should be the first choice not the last. And, mulling over everything that had recently transpired in the world of politics, the Republic was starting to feel less like a benevolent union of worlds and more like a playground full of angry younglings that could not decide who was or was not a friend or foe...

The Chancellor certainly hadn't been making it easy to find common ground that anyone could work with to reach a peaceful conclusion of this war. Passing bills that, while outwardly seeming beneficial to all, came with long lasting effects that aggrieved both the Republic itself, GAR and anyone else caught in the crossfire.

And after he'd summoned Anakin away to do Force only knew what, he'd certainly made the efforts on Umbara all the much harder to endure. Not counting the parasitic take-over.

But those were not sentiments he could freely talk over comms. You never knew where those recordings and transcripts might end up, after all...

"I wish I had been down there with the men..." Ahsoka's pitiful sadness was easy to spot, even over the choppy holotable quality, as she processed all of what he'd been able to tell her thus far.

"Sincerely Commander Tano, the men and I are glad you aren't involved in this mess." Cody shook his head, voicing what Obi-wan himself had been thinking. That he was glad his Grand-Padawan was safely away from these horrific events. Away from both Krell's actions and the parasites that had so easily overwhelmed him, prior to discovering their susceptibility to mind tricks. "If you'd gotten hurt or worse, killed, none of us would have been able to forgive ourselves."

"Not to mention Anakin would certainly not take the loss well..." The bearded Jedi added, being more than a little aware of his ex-Padawan's very specific faults.

It's not that he thought his brother to be anything but kind and caring. Far from it, Anakin definitely cared for the well being of others. Sometimes a little too much. Which was often the root of many conflicts between himself and others, who had an easier time letting go of what upset them.

Well, that wasn't entirely true either. Guilt was something no Jedi could shrug off very easily. The weight of one's responsibilities as a guardian of peace was often crushing, especially if a mistake that yielded terrible consequences was made. Processing negative emotions in a positive constructive way was a challenge all beings went through. The Jedi just had to be extra mindful due to their extraordinary abilities. Which was why it was imperative that, should one find themselves beginning to lose sight of the light, that they seek the help of both their support network and a Mind Healer.

Something which Obi-wan himself was not entirely good at, at times. And something he'd never seen Anakin do outside of talking to Padme. He never pushed, not wanting to seem hypocritical, but perhaps he should also look into having a talk with his little brother after all of this was done and dealt with.

"I hadn't thought of that..." Ahsoka admitted as she lightly gnawed on her bottom lip, clearly worried about her Master's reaction to... Well, all of this mess. His battalion was worse for wear, and his men would likely need some time to be able to trust the Jedi again, once it came to light that Krell had been trying to get them all killed on purpose.

Not to mention the state of those who'd been infected...

"It bares not thinking." Obi-wan nodded in understanding. "Especially when we are still in the middle of this conflict..."

"If we can't wrap things up soon, I fear it'll only get worse..." The togruta crossed her arms, looking over her shoulder at two of the men who'd joined her for the call. Two veterans, Nax and Attie, who flanked her sides and listened to the conversation with solemn expressions. "The Umbaran forces have initiated several dogfights, and we haven't been able to send any supply ships as a result..."

"The pilots are starting to look a little worse for wear." Nax added, voice grave as he put emphasis on the main issues they were trying to deal with. "Many of the ships are down for repairs, and exhaustion is slowing down our best fliers..."

"Only way I see this going well is if the Umbarans called for a ceasefire... But, seeing as they're unwilling to give in so easily..." Attie sighed, clearly not believing this would end well. Even with the capitol in their hands, the enemy forces were not deterred by such intimidation tactics. "We have no idea what to do sir..."

"This is indeed a problem..." Obi-wan conceded as he stroked his beard in thought. Trying to figure out what the best course of actions might be.

Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble… Not with everything that's come to light.

It might be that retreat was really the only solution, even if it would label them as cowards in the eyes of the Republic.

"Sir..." Cody went to put a hand on his shoulder before freezing, the aborted motion causing everyone on call to pause and look towards the Commander who's expression began to twist in pain. "A-ah..."

"Cody, are you alright...?" Ahsoka softly asked while Obi-wan frowned at the worrisome change.

"...I... A-ah..." The mutated trooper shook his head, expression pinched from clear discomfort and pain as he shook. His tremors so bad he stumbled and ended up on the floor. "I̵ ̵t̴-̴t̶h̸i̵n̴k̴ ̵I̶.̵.̴.̶"

"We're running out of time..." Obi-wan hissed as he knelt by the shaking trooper, realizing immediately what was going on with his friend. The parasite was beginning to wake back up. "Ahsoka dear, we'll have to cut our conversation short for now. The men need me... I will... I will think of something by the time of our next talk. Stay vigilant until then, would you?"

"I... Yes Master." She bowed quickly. "Take care."

As soon as the holo cut off, Obi-wan helped Cody back onto his feet and helped him to sit on one of the crates instead. He could see the way his second in command was struggling against the parasite as it regained its bearings. Trying to get him back under its control.

"I̸-̸m̴ ̵s̸o̵r̸r̷y̶ ̴s̴-̵s̶i̵r̸.̴.̸.̵ ̷I̸.̷.̸.̶.̸"

"There's no need for apologies, my dear Cody. This is not your fault." The Jedi reassured, all the while taking deep breaths himself and trying to steady his own mind. He needed to focus if he wanted to keep Cody in control of himself. "I should have not expected this to last much longer..."

Cody grunted in reply.

Whether from the pain or to acknowledge the fact, he couldn't tell. Instead he focused on clearing his mind before kindly requesting that the parasite go back to sleep. It took a minute for the commander to look a little less pained, as the creature's influence faded once more.

"Thank you sir..." Cody sighed in relief.

"Think nothing of it. Were you in my position, I am sure you would have done the same." Obi-wan smiled fondly as he noted the way his friend tilted his head. No doubt rolling his eyes.

"If I were in your position..." Cody mused. "I would have stunned you."

"Hm, very honest of you." The Jedi chuckled. "Even if a little rude."

"Seventeen raised me too well."

With one less thing to concern himself with (for the moment), his mind wandered back to the more pressing matter of deciding on what to do. And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.

Sometimes the easiest thing to do was to look towards the simpler option. Even if as a whole, the Republic might not like his choice.

"....I think I know what needs to be done." He sighed, looking to Cody with slight resignation to the consequences that may follow. The way the other might see him afterwards. "But it will definitely spell failure on our end..."

"Depends on one's definition of failure." Cody remarked, looking to him with mild curiosity as he massaged his aching temples. "Will there be further casualties?"

"Not if it goes as I expect it to."

"Then I'd say it's worth a shot." Cody crossed his lower arms, seeming satisfied with the answer. "What will you need?"

"Direct communication with the Umbaran Generals..." Obi-wan responded calmly, already beginning to organize his thoughts for what he was sure would be a rather long debate. "It's time to bargain for ceasefire. For the sake of our men..."

The Republic would not take this loss kindly. But perhaps the Umbarans might be more merciful in return.

After all, victory should not come as a result of such tremendous loss nor moral bankruptcy. And considering the state of both battalions and the fear the locals had of the parasites they were infected with, surely they could reach a mutually beneficial understanding.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #commander cody #clone trooper nax #clone trooper attie

[jpitha]

Weekend on the Human/K'laxi starbase is a time for relaxation. The starbase really doesn't need a weekend, the perception of time is completely arbitrary. But, both species like a regular progression of days, weeks, months, years.

By complete coincidence, Humans and K'laxi have a similar circadian rhythm. K'lax has 30 (human) hour days, where Earth has a slightly shorter 24. The Xenni theorize this is why they get along so famously. "They might as well have come from the same planet" they will grumble.

On the starbase, early on it was decided that every two days out of 10 is "the weekend" and everyone - who isn't currently assigned to urgent Starbase needs - can pause their work and relax. Many chose to congregate at the Common Area that the humans built when they came. Partly a park, partly a gathering space, partly a playground, the large, high ceilings, real plants and windows to the warm sun around Zen'm'gan's Reach lend a small amount of natural beauty to the starbase.

Kerry and his friends are sitting around a table, chatting and enjoying each other's company. Kerry is just coming back from a vending machine, bringing juices for everyone.

"Hey everyone! Mary, they were out of cranberry, so I got you pomegranate, hope tha---whoah woah!"

Kerry bobbles the bottles of juices he's carrying, and one slips out of his grasp. His left arm shoots out and catches it, seemingly without him directing it.

"Hah! Good catch Kerry!" Mary cheers. "Yeah, pomegranate is fine." She takes the bottle of juice from him.

Watching this whole interaction is their friend Elemii, a K'laxi who works with Mary in Starbase Systems as an analyst.

"How did you do that Kerry?" She asks

"Do what?"

"Catch the bottle, it fell out of your arms, but then it was almost like you had another arm and caught it"

"I don't know Elemii, I just did it. Good reflexes and proprioception I guess."

"Proprio-what?"

"Proprioception. It's a body's ability to know where their limbs are without looking."

"That's wild, we don't have that!" Elemii said, fascinated.

"Sure you do. You can't move around if you don't." Countered Mary. "Here, do this. Close your eyes."

Elemii squeezed her large, expressive eyes shut.

"Okay, now, touch your nose"

With her hand, Elemii reached out, swung her arm around wide and easily touched the tip of her nose.

"See? If you didn't have proprioception, you couldn't do that. It's also how you can do things with your eyes closed, and know you're doing them right, like eating food with your eyes closed or pressing buttons without looking, things like that."

"Huh." Elemii opened her eyes and looked at her hand. "But, how you caught that bottle...I don't think we have reflexes like that."

Kerry took a sip of juice "Maybe, but it's a similar system. Ours might just be like, more turned up because of our world." He thought some more, and said "Might also be related to throwing and catching."

Now Elemii was adamant "I've seen you do that, I know it doesn't come as easily for us. Our shoulders aren't set up the same way. We can throw and catch, but with you it's practically innate." She sat back and made a face. "Jim tried to teach me how to throw a frisbee, it took me forever to grasp the motions and even then, I can't throw it very hard. Meanwhile, he was just effortlessly tossing it across the field. If he was trying to flirt, he was doing a bad job of it."

"Yeah, that sounds like Jim. Wants to make everything a competition." Mary nodded and reached into a pocket and took out a pack of playing cards. "Okay, so we're continuing where we left off on our Bridge tournament. Elemii, it was your turn to deal..."

#humans are deathworlders #humans have proprioception #everyone has proprioception #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space capybaras #sci fi writing #writing

[beautifulblooms]

Hi....can I by chance request Eddie comforting his plus sized bf (ftm if possible) who's very self conscious of his weight and Eddie spots him crying as he's looking in the mirror? (Feeling really self conscious about my weight and could use some comfort... )

Fuck the Mirror - Eddie Munson x FTM!Reader

FTM!Reader, he/him used, honestly, I’ve been here and wish I had someone to comfort me when I felt like shit, so here’s this for all my homies who know what it’s like to look in that mirror and think “this ain’t my body”

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Tags: @qthetherapist, @rlmt1, @eddieverse, @alexs-playground, @mazettns, @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings

“Whatdya think you’re doin handsome?” Turning around I looked back at Eddie, leaned against the doorway of his room, a curious look in his eyes. Truthfully, I was looking in the mirror, asking myself if I deserved to be with him, he was strong, skinny, handsome, I was none of those things. All my life I’ve been on the heavier side, but after I started to transition things had seemed to get worse. Especially with the way I was built it just felt like I was wrong and looked even worse after starting T.

“Oh nothing, just…looking at myself, ya know?” He sighed, he knew that was a lie, how was I gonna talk myself out of this one?

“We both know that’s not true handsome, c’mon, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” He walked over to me, placing his hands on my hips and squeezing gently, he always had the habit of doing that, squeezing parts of me he knew I thought of as insecurities.

“It’s nothing Ed’s, I’m fine, really.” He can see through my poker face better than anyone, always saying my eyes gave me away.

“If you’re thinking about what I think you were, you’re wrong baby boy, because no matter what you look like, no matter how big, small, chubby, skinny, tall, short, soft or rough you are, you are still my boyfriend, and even with the changes you’re feeling, that’s not gonna change it. I feel for you because of this right here,” he tapped a finger against my forehead, “because this beautiful little brain of yours has the best personality in this whole shit hole town, and I love it with every fiber of my being, just like I love the rest of you with just as much.” Fuck he always knew what to say to me, I just rested my hands around his waist and laid my head against his shoulder.

“Thank you Eddie, you always know how to make me feel better.” He began to rub his hands up and down my sides, gingerly touches kind along my skin.

“I can think of a few ways to prove to you how I feel if you’re up to it.” I yelped as he laid a mild smack on my ass, he was gonna be the death of me one day, but if he is, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

#eddie munson x male reader #eddie x male reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #male reader #male reader fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #x male reader

[stxsis]

Hannah Shepard (b. 2122 d. 2160, age 38) was Commander Shepard's first mother, who tragically died when Shepard was only 6 years old in a shuttle transport accident. Hannah was a former university professor widely published in subjects related to botany and mycology and had formerly led expeditions to identify previously unknown species of plant life and fungi on newly discovered worlds. She left her position to pursue her dream of a quiet farm life.

Pia Shepard (b. 2154, pictured 2170 age 16) was born and raised on a farm on Mindoir, a small border colony in the Attican Traverse. When she was 16, slavers raided Mindoir, slaughtering her family and friends. She was saved by a passing Alliance patrol, and enlisted with the military a few years later.

Bartlett Shepard (b. 2121 d. 2170, age 49) was born to a long line of farmers who prided themselves on caring for their land and subsisting on their own merits. Bartlett remarried two years after the death of his first wife to a neighbor of his, Miriam, adopting her son from a previous marriage. Shepard hadn't been very close with her father when her mother died, but the years that they spent alone together taking care of each other made them close. Even if their personalities didn't make them prone to spending time in each other's company (mostly because Shepard was just like her father), their love for each other and reliance on one another built considerable trust.

Miriam Shepard (b. 2124 d. 2170, age 46) was a longtime widow when she met Bartlett, and their shared losses formed a fast bond between them forged in mutual grief. Her son, Ezra, was only a year older than Bartlett's daughter, and the pair were introduced at a school event when their children were in the same 2nd grade class. Miriam grew to be very close with Shepard even before she married her father, as the parents slowly built a friendship first and came to rely on one another.

Ezra Shepard (b. 2153 d. 2170, age 17) was Shepard's classmate before he became her brother (technically stepbrother, although she never thought of him as such). She didn't have much of an opinion of him going into the school year. She knew of him since kindergarten, but had little reason to interact with him until they got into it on the playground one day and Shepard decked him. Her dad got a call about it and she had to write him an apology note. By the time they'd made it to secondary school, Shepard was very close with her brother, though.

Shera Shepard (b. 2164 d. 2170, age 6) was by all accounts a miracle baby. Miriam had what the doctor's called a geriatric pregnancy conceiving at age 39, and they cautioned her that it would be a difficult pregnancy. Shepard, 10yrs old at the time, was thrilled at the idea of being a big sister, and the pregnancy is what really made Shepard and her mother close. She was overjoyed to have a sister and really doted on Shera, who grew to be a hilarious and energetic child with surprising insights into life and the people around her.

The day Shepard lost her family, the colony's exterior security had alerted them to a threat immediately and the colony had gone into their well drilled security protocols. Unfortunately, those protocols relied entirely on waiting for Alliance assistance, as very little effort had been made to arm the colonists in such an event (firstly because of the prohibitive cost but secondarily because no one thought the Batarians would be so brazenly hostile to an Alliance colony). Unfortunately, the attack happened after school had already let out for the day, and so none of the Shepard children were barricaded safely in a school lockdown. Instead, they were at home, and their own home safety plan was to hide in the root cellar, as it was dug in below the house and difficult to find if you didn't already know it was there.

When the alarms went off, the first thing they did was meet in the kitchen, and Miriam took the children into the root cellar as planned. Shepard's father was worried about the livestock, however, and wanted to defend his home rather than hide. Miriam told him he was crazy, but then Ezra wanted to go with him so that he wasn't alone. Bartlett told Ezra that he couldn't go with him because he needed him to run out to the storage shed and dig out an old Alliance distress beacon so that when help came, they would know to come to the farm. That didn't happen because the Alliance aid ended up getting pinned down by Batarian forces and they were unable to rescue the Shepard family farm. Still, the Shepards had no way of knowing that help wasn't coming, and so Pia told Ezra to protect their father and she would go set up the beacon. They argued, but every second they spent debating things endangered their lives and so eventually Miriam and Shera ended up in the root cellar, Ezra and Bartlett went to the barn with the family's only firearms, and Pia went without a weapon to set up a distress beacon.

The beacon was old and stored under some tied tarp in the back of the storage shed behind a mower. Shepard couldn't make any noise without calling attention to herself so she had to very slowly and carefully climb over the equipment to reach the beacon and then loosen the knots with only her fingers. Once she got the knots untied, she was able to peel back the tarp and power up the beacon, but the process took time to accomplish (not to mention the out of date software giving her issues), and in the meantime, she heard gunshots and knew the enemy had found the farm. At one point, a soldier entered the shed and Shepard hid herself under the tarp with her hand over her mouth. She had to wait silently until they left before she could continue.

Once the beacon was set up, she had promised her family that she would make her way back to the house and join her mother and sister in the root cellar, but as soon as she opened the door to the shed, she smelled smoke and accelerant. She ran towards the house, but knew even before she could see it that it had been set on fire with her mother and sister trapped inside. In the time that it had taken her to set up the beacon in the shed, the house had become engulfed in flames. As she ran towards the structure, she tried to stay as low in the grass as possible so as not to be seen, and that was where she found the bodies of her father and brother, both shot to death. Her brother had been face down and shot in the back as though he'd been running. Pia took his gun and tried to get into the house, but it had been sealed up against intruders. When Pia used the butt of the gun to smash out a window, the backdraft from the sudden oxygen caused a blast of flame that threw her from the building and knocked her unconscious. The next thing she knew, she was on board the SSV Einstein, the Alliance patrol vessel that had responded to Mindoir's call.

#HC / only mostly dead

[leftnotright]

PROOF APOLLO WEARS HAWAIIAN SHIRTS

“The Tri-Ni-Sette machine is failing. The world will die.” “We can’t do anything going forward. Going backwards, however, is another matter.” Ryohei had his mission: To go back. To before the most recent Arcobaleno Curse, to before the slaughter of the Simone. To before the Tri-Ni-Sette System finally gave out. Ryohei was used to loss, in the ring and in life. But this time, he promises, he’ll win. Reborn had his mission: Get in this man’s pants, or die trying. After all, Reborn was nothing if not an Icarus.

(Or: The ‘size matters’ fic)

Parings: Reborn/Sasagawa Ryohei Characters: Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Ten Years Later Sasagawa Ryouhei, Sasagawa Ryouhei, Vindice (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Checker Face | Kawahira Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ryouhei Time Travels

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

CHAPTER 2: I’M GONNA MAKE HIM PROUD IN THE END

Sasagawa Ryohei knew he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. But even a fool could see the writing on the wall when it was so ugly…and so painfully familiar.

Ryohei always knew something was wrong with his relationship with Tsuna. His ‘Harmony’. He knew that it was…Fragile. Straining to keep its hold and bond them through sheer obedience and stubbornness. 

They had been told this was what they had, that this feeling was Harmony. They were told they were part of a whole, part of a Set. That their relationship, their bond, their Harmony was perfect and true. The strongest bond between Flames. 

They didn’t know any better. 

But Ryohei knew. 

Ryohei had always known something was wrong. His — instinct, drive, passion — Flame had been put in a sun-shaped box that was ten sizes too small. Too cramped, too awkward. It wasn’t his place. 

Tsuna, his little brother of ten long years, was not Ryohei’s Sky.

He should have realised sooner. After all, he’s experienced it before — this pain. 

Tsuna wasn’t Ryohei’s first Sky. Ryohei had realised that as soon as he felt that creeping, unsure, frantic nudging at his Flame years ago. He knew what it felt like to be embraced, to Harmonise. It felt like coming home.

And home, for so many years, had been Kyoko. His darling little sister, who always accepted people with open arms and such unyielding optimism. 

Kyoko, Hana, Ryohei. A little Set in themselves. The Kings and Queens of their playground. An indisputable trio. But they had grown. And then Ryohei kept growing. His Sun grew, larger and larger until he saw the way it begin to burn them. He saw their skin flush red, the sweat gathered on their napes. 

And he remembered the pain, the biting pain in his chest, as his first Harmony burnt itself out. Kyoko had cried for days and no one knew why, all Ryohei could do was stay away and let the blisters heal. 

Ryohei had nearly forgotten what it felt like. To be brought Home. Blissful ignorance was so close. And then Tsuna came, with a Sky so vast and welcoming that he thought-

He should have known better. 

But he was so glad he had been part of this Set. This rag-tag band of amazing idiots. They were all so fun and fantastic and so warm. 

“Please understand,” Talbot said gently, “This journey. There is no return. The past will swallow you.”

“This is a one-way trip,” Verde agreed, “Whoever goes, you’re not coming back.”

The stress in the room had been palpable. Who would go back? Who would be cut off from their Family and Set, forever? 

Ryohei watched his Family look at each other, murmuring and biting their lips. They were all so important. Ryohei couldn’t imagine this Set surviving without any of them — Tsuna, Takeshi Hayato, Kyoya, Mukuro, Chrome, Lambo. They were all so necessary. Irreplaceable. 

They were all so thoroughly tied into this Set, utterly perfect in their place. The Set was designed for them, down to the ember. A Set built upon the foundations of beliefs, needs and desires fulfilled. 

The Set wouldn’t survive with any of those Flames lost. But… Ryohei knew. 

Ryohei wasn’t their Sun — oh he wished he was — but he was still their big brother. And big brothers take the hit for the family. They make sure the youngers are happy and safe. Always.

“I’ll go,” Ryohei said again, making sure he was heard.

There was a long silence in the room. Then Mukuro stood from his seat, hands slamming down on the table with a bang.

“Absolutely not!” Mukuro shouted, a fierce look in his eyes. “Ryohei, you are not going.”

Voices piled on top of each other with a vengeance. A chair crashed against a wall, someone ducked a vase. The usual chaos of a Vongola Style Meeting. 

“Enough!” Talbot boomed.

Everyone ceased, teeth gritted and fists clenched. 

“Sasagawa, do you understand what you’re volunteering for?” Talbot asked him, ancient eyes boring into him from across the room.

Ryohei met them without a word. A quiet, tired acceptance, underlay with a damning drive. Ryohei was used to loss; and knowing what he did, he couldn’t wish it upon his Family. He knew the feeling of coming Home, of being welcomed with open arms — and then being forced to leave. 

Ryohei was used to loss. He was the big brother of his Family, he could take it again. One more time for his Family.

“Yeah,” Ryohei said, nodding his head. “I’ll go. Just tell me what to do.”

☀

Among the Vongola’s many sprawling properties which speckled Europe, was the original church of the First Vongola Sun. It was small, with walls made of uneven stone and a roof made of sturdy wood and terracotta tile. The Vongola had been careful to preserve the sanctuary of Father Knuckles.

Ryohei was always thankful for that. 

He sat in one of only ten pews, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Sunlight streamed in from an open window and he soaked it up readily, letting the warmth relax him all over exactly as Colonello had taught him years ago. 

His meditative state of mind was interrupted, however, when the doors to the church were slammed open, two sets of boots clacking against the tile floor. Ryohei grimaced a bit, knowing who was coming down that aisle, and knowing exactly how pissed they were with him.

“Sasagawa Ryohei, what do you think you’re doing?” Mukuro hissed, kicking the pews until he had a clear area to stand in front of Ryohei. “Why the hell did you volunteer?”

“Ryohei,” Chrome frowned something severe, her hands clenched together in front of her in a show of careful control. “Please tell us why you think you should be the one to go back.”

Ryohei shifted in his seat, anxious energy rushing back now that he had been knocked out of his meditation half-baked. His thumb traced the edges of the Sun jewel on his Vongola Ring in a soothing, repetitive motion.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and sat back, smiling a bit, “Well, it sounded fun to the extreme, ya know? I’m going to the past! Even you haven’t gone to the past, Muku-bro!”

“You still don’t have permission to call me that,” Mukuro scowled before sitting himself down on the edge of the upturned pew. “Tell us honestly, you blundering muscle-head.”

Chrome came and sat beside Ryohei, and between the pews and these people, Ryohei was thoroughly cornered by fast encroaching Mist. It was comforting, despite how many would disagree.

Ryohei glanced between the two Mists. Over the ten years united under a Sky, these two had become his closest friends. 

Chrome reminded him so much of his sister, and Ryohei had watched with no little amount of pride as Chrome had truly come into herself as a woman of Vongola. The epitome of deadly grace, Chrome had become an idol for many young mafiosos. 

Mukuro was a monster, just like the rest of them. With Flames bright and vibrant, and a skill so perfected that even Arcobaleno fell to him. Ryohei had taken comfort that, with Mukuro at least, he didn’t need to hold back. Mukuro’s illusions could handle being crushed; again, and again. As many times as Ryohei needed to cool his blood.

Some people thought that Mukuro was taking advantage of Ryohei, tricking him into carrying out dastardly deeds and underhanded pranks. Some people thought that Chrome infantilised Ryohei, treated him more like the teenager he was rather than the man he had become. 

What they didn’t realise was that Ryohei dealt it back as good as he got. Mukuro wanted to cause havoc? Ryohei was always ready to see if he could bring down a building. Chrome wanted him to come be quiet with her? He’ll carry her until she’s chosen a good napping spot in the orchards.

Together, these two had become his closest friends. The most unlikely of matches. But they had been perfect for him — he just wished he was perfect for them. Even now, he could see the redness in Chrome's cheeks as she tried to cool herself down, her Set burning her from the inside out.

“You guys are too important to go,” Ryohei said finally, and Mukuro raised an eyebrow in response. “The Vongola needs you. You’re the Mists, they’ll need you for defence and to hide how bad this whole situation’s going to get before the timeline uh—”

“Recalibrates according to new variables,” Chrome supplied gently, “New choices making new things happen.”

“Yeah that,” Ryohei pointed at her and she gently pushed it away. “But Talbot said that it’d take time. Like a — a cosmic lag. So, ya know, in the meantime, they’ll need you.”

“And why can’t we just send that damned Cloud?” Mukuro pushed, “Not like that guy wants to hang around with us anyway.”

“CEDEF, Kyoya’s important,” Ryohei insisted, “And so is Hayato, and Takeshi, and Lambo — and of course, Tsuna can’t go back! They’re all so important to the extreme!” 

Chrome twisted in her seat, “Are you saying you’re not important, Ryohei?”

Ryohei’s mouth clicked shut. He felt eyes on him, burning into his face, and he resisted the urge to bow his head and hide.

“Never said that,” he muttered, and heard Mukuro tsk in annoyance. 

“Good, cause you’re the only person here who I can tolerate for more than fifteen minutes.”

“What about Chrome?” Ryohei asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Doesn’t count,” They answered.

Ryohei smiled when they did that. Chrome and Mukuro were perfect for each other. 

“It’s for the best if I go,” Ryohei said slowly, “We can’t leave this in just anyone’s hands. And the Tri-Ni-Sette… I’m going.”

Mukuro stood up sharply and all but gritted out, “It’s because we’re too small, isn’t it?”

Ryohei bit his tongue. 

Mukuro crossed his arms irritably. Chrome clasped her hands in her lap tighter.

“We,” Chrome glanced at Mukuro. “We don’t know what we’ll do without you.”

Ryohei stared at Chrome, her flushed cheeks and sweaty nape. It was mid-February, but she had already started to forgo jackets and stockings. He looked to Mukuro, who hid it well, but Ryohei could see his tie was looser than it used to be. And those gloves he used to love, had been finally cast aside. 

“You’ll be fine,” Ryohei smiled, throwing his arm over Chrome’s shoulder. “You’ve got Tsuna and you've got each other!” Ryohei looked at Mukuro and said again, “You’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

Mukuro gritted his teeth, before letting out a huge breath. He crossed the small space and sat on the other side of Ryohei, boxing him in comfortingly. 

“This is all because we’re too small to hold you,” Mukuro murmured, gazing upon the altar where Knuckles used to pray. “Our Harmony, it's too weak to keep you. It always has been.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryohei sighed, and took his arm off Chrome, trying to ignore how she took off her vest as well, covertly fanning herself. “I wish I wasn’t so… difficult for you all. I wish I was right for you. So much.”

“No,” they said at the same time, leaning into his space.

“You do not apologise for this,” Chrome scolded.

Mukuro gazed at Ryohei with a damning determination, a kind of surety Ryohei could only associate with a man who had lived life six times over. Wiser than any one man had a right to be.

“You weren’t too difficult. You were too great for us, Ryohei.”

Ryohei closed his eyes and clenched his hands together, bowing his head until they pressed to his brow. 

Mukuro stared at that Ring sitting just shy of Ryohei's forehead. The proof of his position as the Vongola's Sun, the proof of the ten years Ryohei fought alongside them.

"We won't take another Sun," Mukuro announced.

Ryohei flinched, something sour and something so sweet welling in his chest. They would never take another. Never replace him.

"Even if Tsuna brings in another Sun, someone he thinks is the perfect Guardian. We won't accept them. They can be Vongola's Guardian, but they won't be our Sun. Our Ryohei."

Chrome touched Ryohei's hands, the tips of her fingers grazing the starburst scars that dotted his knuckles. All hard-won scores of the times Ryohei had fought for his Family and family. 

"Our Sun, our Ryohei," she said with a smile.

☀

“You have a week,” Verde said plainly to Ryohei, surrounded by bits of metal and computers flashing with crunching algorithms. “I’m recalibrating the Tri-Ni-Sette Machine to metabolise Earth Flames. Usually, this shouldn’t take too long but given the weight of the situation, we can’t risk any unforeseen malfunctions.”

Ryohei glanced at a screen off to the side, a progress bar slowly crawling, triangulating a direct trajectory to thirty years ago and then some. 

“I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

Ryohei fought the urge to wring his hands, the scent of Namimori air so familiar and cool. He followed a street lined with apartment buildings that reached high into the sky, taking the places of what was once little, family homes back in his youth.

Ryohei turned into an apartment like all the others and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, knocking on the fourth door. 

Hana opened the door and frowned at Ryohei, her hand on her hip as she stared up at him. She looked worn and more than a little tired, hair unbrushed and clothes rumpled. 

“Hana!” Ryohei greeted and wrapped the woman in a tight hug.

“Oh — let me down you oaf!” She scolded sharply, her feet kicking as she pushed his face away from her.

Ryohei grinned but let her slip out of his hold. She grunted up at him as she smoothed out her already wrinkled t-shirt.

“I hope you brought those dragon fruits with you. Kyoko’s got some killer cravings right now.”

Ryohei laughed and showed the bag hanging from his hand. Dragon fruits and salad dressing — specifically the vinegary Caesar dressing kind. Hana nearly deflated in relief.

Kyoko looked up when Ryohei and Hana walked into the living room. She was cradled in a plush armchair by the window with her feet propped up and her hand resting on the swell of her belly. Kyoko reached out as Ryohei approached, her face utterly bright with joy.

“Salad dressing!” Kyoko cheered, taking the bag from Ryohei’s hands and peering inside.

“Hello to you too,” Ryohei pouted and sat himself down on a footstool beside Kyoko’s chair. “Slow down, Hana’s getting you a plate.”

“Don’t need it,” Kyoko muttered and bit into the fruit like an apple. “Skin’s healthy.” 

The woman then proceeded to take a swig of salad dressing and Ryohei had to look away. 

One would think that Kyoko would crave everything sweet and sugary at a time like this, but it seemed that the baby wasn’t as much of a sweet tooth. They had more of a taste for salt and vinegar, and often it led to Kyoko crying until her tongue allowed her to eat sweets again. 

“You’re looking about ready to pop,” Ryohei said, offering his sister a tissue which she ignored in favour of cracking open another fruit. “Do you have a due date yet?”

“A few more weeks, looking at late next month,” Hana answered for them, scooping up the skin scraps on her wife’s lap and putting the rest of the dragon fruits on a plate. “They’ve definitely got Sasagawa blood in them though, he’s been kicking poor Kyoko at all hours.”

“Maybe he’ll be a boxer like you!” Kyoko beamed, and like she remembered to be a gracious hostess, quickly offered Ryohei a salad dressing-soaked dragonfruit.

“No thank you,” Ryohei denied as softly as he could, he had set her off before when rejecting one of her offerings. In his defence, it had been ice cream and buffalo sauce. 

“Like I’d let that happen,” Hana scoffed and let herself flop down across the couch, wheezing with great fatigue. 

“Rough night?” Ryohei asked, tossing a pillow at Hana for her head.

“Hana’s been doing overtime to clear her calendar for the baby,” Kyoko hummed. “And she’s been doing my share of some of the chores.”

“Your feet and legs are double their normal size, woman. You are not walking around more than you need to,” Hana mumbled into her pillow. 

Kyoko smiled and cooed wordlessly at Hana, making happy little noises as she continued to gorge herself on her weird concoction. Hana glanced at Kyoko out of the corner of her eye and smiled back in a way she only showed to Kyoko.

Ryohei felt his chest grow warm at the quiet affection shared between his sister and sister-in-law. It was times like these, Ryohei was glad that Hana had left him to be with Kyoko. They were so happy now.

It had taken a while for Kyoko to accept Hana, she had always been a loyal little sister. But Ryohei was glad she had listened to him. 

They were good for each other, brought out the best of each other. And they loved each other, deeply and warmly. Kyoko was better for Hana, and Hana was best for Kyoko.

It had stung when Hana had told him she thought they should see other people, after all, he had been so sure she was ‘the one’. But his baby sister got to have her happy ever after, so in the end, it all ended well. Ryohei had come to terms with the fact that, maybe, love just wasn’t for him.

And he got a nephew out of it! So all well that ends well, he supposed.

Ryohei bit the inside of his cheek. He just wished he got to meet them, even just once. Got to see his sister holding her baby, got to spoil them utterly rotten…

“Speaking…Speaking of overtime,” Ryohei cleared his throat, and Kyoko looked over, all too attuned to her brother’s tones. Her brother, and ex-Sun. Kyoko was very good at reading Ryohei. “The Vongola… I’m going on a trip.”

“What kind of trip?” Kyoko asked carefully.

Ryohei smiled thinly, trying to pick out his words carefully. “A long one. Far away too.”

Hana had sat up at this point, her hands in her lap and her eyes sharp — but she remained quiet, letting her wife and Sky speak for both of them. 

“Are we allowed to contact you during your trip?” Kyoko asked. It wouldn’t be the first time Ryohei had to drop off the map for a while, gone incognito. He had a very forgettable face when he managed to keep a cap on his energy. 

“No,” Ryohei admitted, “No, I won’t be…able to talk to anyone.”

Kyoko frowned more and started to pet her belly absently, a kind of self-soothing habit she had formed in the recent months. 

“When will you come back?” 

Ryohei paused for a moment too long, staring past Kyoko and out the window behind her. Out at Namimori. 

He wondered if his nephew would attend Namimori Middle, if they’d walk the same paths he and Kyoko walked so many times. He wondered if they’d use the same classrooms — or if Kyoko’s prediction would come to be and they’d join the boxing club just like their uncle.

“Ryohei,” Kyoko pressed and he shifted his eyes over to her with a sheepish smile. “When are you coming home?”

Home.

“Not for a long time,” Ryohei said gently, and took Kyoko’s hand in his own when he saw that flash of panic in her expression. “This is a big job this time, Kyoko. Your big brother’s got a lot of work to do.”

“Ryohei—”

“But you’re a big girl now, Kyoko,” he smiled, “You’ve got your life together! You’ve got your Bachelors, you’re married, and you’ve got an extreme baby on the way! You don’t need your big brother all up in your business, getting in the way.”

“You can’t go. I’m having a baby, I need you,” Kyoko said, gripping Ryohei’s hand with a vengeance. 

“You’ll be okay, you know that. You have Hana spoiling you, and Tsuna would bend the Vongola backwards to look after your every need. Mum and Dad are also just a call away — God knows Mum’s been ready for a grandchild, she’s just been scared it’d come from me!”

Hana snorted in the background. She had been a victim of the Sasagawa matriarch’s empty-nest syndrome twice now. The only difference was the first time around had been full of caution and warnings about the child being too much like its potential father. 

“But I need you,” Kyoko pleaded, looking at Ryohei and trying to see in his face why he was leaving.

Ryohei grinned, stomping down a sting in his chest, “You haven’t needed me for a long time, Kyoko.”

She had cried for days when their Harmony had broken, withering away like a dried sapling under the sun. Their youth had been on their side, however, and their wounds had healed without so much as a scar. She continued life with her usual bright smiles and unrelenting optimism.

Like she had never even had a Sun. But Ryohei remembered.

“I’m gonna miss welcoming them with you,” Ryohei continued, looking to Kyoko’s stomach. “But you’d probably just yell at me for yelling or crying on the baby.”

“We’re already expecting one screamer, we don’t need another,” Hana sniped from the couch and Ryohei let out a laugh.

“Why do you have to go?” Kyoko asked, still holding Ryohei’s hand in a death grip.

Ryohei looked at her little hand in his own, small and adorned in a shining wedding ring. 

“I’m just doing what I always do: I’m looking after my little siblings. My family will always come first. You, Hana, Tsuna, Chrome, Mukuro, and all the others. I’m going so that I can help you, as best I can.” Ryohei looked at her again and smiled reassuringly, pushing as much Sun and warmth into the air as he could. 

It didn’t do what he wanted it to. Kyoko wasn’t his Sky anymore. 

Her face turned a sickly shade of green and Hana quickly stood from the couch and pushed a cup of water into Kyoko’s hands, a small bucket under her arm just in case. Pregnancy was a finicky thing, and Flames had a history of making things just that little bit more complicated.

Ryohei smiled through it and pulled his Sun back to his chest, letting Hana’s Cloud dapple the space and sooth her Sky. 

“But you’re leaving,” Kyoko coughed, wiping her mouth.

Ryohei looked at his sister and then looked to her stomach, full of life and potential. A child ready to take on the whole world and outshine any of them. 

A dying world, slowly grinding to a halt. 

Ryohei wouldn’t let that happen. Ryohei was going to hand over this world to that little life, and he was going to make sure they had as much time in it as they wanted. To play, make mistakes, love, grow and live.

Ryohei would always put his family first. 

“Hey, Kyoko, Hana,” he began softly, and they both looked over. “Can you promise me that you’ll tell them about me? Extreme stories of their extreme uncle?”

Kyoko opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She wrung her hands in her dress, confusion and stress in her expression. 

“We will,” Hana announced, her hand tight on her wife’s shoulder. “We’ll tell them everything. The time you pissed your pants in Elementary, when you climbed a bathhouse chimney like a damned fool, when you chased everyone who you thought would put up a fight. No embarrassing detail spared, you big oaf.”

Ryohei smiled.

☀

The Vongola Sun Quarters had always been rather modest in design. Embellishments and ornaments restrained to cornices and windows. When Ryohei had moved into the Sun Quarters, he had been told that Knuckles had been adamant about keeping the place humble and simple, and despite the many hands this room had been passed between, they had all respected its origins. 

Furniture and personal taste had come and gone, but the bones of the room remained the same. No one had dared to paint the walls, or commission craftsmen to refurbish the fixtures. The only true change to the room over the centuries had been the electrical lights and security.  

Ryohei was happy he could keep to the tradition. All his things were in boxes, ready to be dispersed to their next owners. The Vongola Sun Quarters were once again bare. 

On his bed, Ryohei’s one luggage sat still open. He was packing everything he thought he’d need or couldn’t part with, everything and anything that could fit in one bag. 

Clothes weren’t important, those could be bought again. What Ryohei packed were photos of everyone, carefully and painstakingly edited by Basil to ensure no Vongola alignments or dates were visible. Photos, keepsakes, first aid kit and underwear. 

Ryohei looked through his diaries, seeing all the notes he had made for himself over the years and deciding which ones to take. What he wanted to remember the most, what he wanted to make sure would never slip his mind. 

There was a soft knock at his door and Ryohei didn’t need to turn around to sense the presence of an aching Sky. 

Tsuna stepped into the room and chewed his inner cheek, desperately trying not to look in any one direction for too long. He had never seen the Sun Quarters so empty before. It was a gaping reminder that Ryohei had only hours left.

“Hey, Tsuna!” Ryohei greeted, turning around and leaning back on his desk. “What’s up?”

Tsuna closed the door behind him and walked deeper into the hollowed-out room. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled and his hair askew. It made Ryohei frown a bit, but Tsuna spoke first.

“I… We need to talk about some stuff,” Tsuna uttered slowly, coming to a stop just a few strides away from Ryohei. 

“Huh? Uh, sure, what stuff?”

Tsuna glanced at Ryohei's suitcase, full of photos and keepsakes. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and recentre himself.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, flat and to the point. “Going to the past — Tabolt and Verde said you can't come back. Are you sure about this?”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna and the way his hands were clenched at his sides. Tsuna was wound tight, nervous, anxious and confused. 

“Yeah, I'm sure. This is important, we can't give it to just anyone!” Ryohei assured, and Tsuna looked at him.

His face was flushed, his eyes were red. Tsuna crossed his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels, shoulders hunched. 

“Are you sure about leaving us?” Tsuna asked, “Leaving our Harmony?”

Ryohei’s smile wavered, his hands clutched at the edge of his desk. 

“Yeah,” Ryohei said again, voice soft in the quiet room. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Tsuna’s face pinched. Ryohei hadn’t even seen Tsuna make that kind of a face when he had been shot. 

“I’m sorry,” Tsuna uttered.

“Hey, come on, little bro,” Ryohei soothed and pushed off from his desk. He crossed the room and grasped Tsuna by his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“But I could have been better,” Tsuna whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know — maybe if I had tried harder, listened to Reborn more then—”

Ryohei smiled at Tsuna, at the Sky. 

Not His Sky, but a Sky nonetheless. A Sky that, hurt and scared, had let Ryohei in and given him a home for years. Had given him a Family, a place to belong. 

“You did everything you could,” Ryohei assured, and bent at the knees so he could see those eyes that had captured the Italian Mafia. “We’ve been together for an extreme ten years. Why would you apologise for that?”

Ten years under a Sky who did his best, who opened his arms — under duress or not — and that kept Ryohei close to his heart. A Sky who let Ryohei burn him for ten years. 

How could Ryohei ever resent Tsuna?

“It’ll hurt,” Tsuna murmured, “You’ll be gone.”

Ryohei nodded understandingly, and then said, “But it’ll hurt less than it does now.”

Tsuna flinched hard. He didn’t deny it. 

How could he? Tsuna couldn’t have known what was happening when he was young, fresh in chaos and Harmony. Tsuna had been so overwhelmed with his world all aflutter, there was no way he could have recognised where the fever was coming from. 

Their Harmony was weak, corroded. Tsuna understood that now.  

He wished he didn’t.

For all that talk  of ‘Neo-Primo’, of ‘Oath Flame’, of ‘Vastest Sky’, Tsuna couldn’t even keep his Sun and brother. 

Ryohei squeezed Tsuna’s shoulders and let go. Tsuna could still feel the brand of those hands, an uncomfortable heat that left him parched and needing the cover of his Cloud, the cool of his Rain. 

Tsuna raised his head and Ryohei’s smile was still there, warm and unyielding as ever. 

Their Harmony broke, and settled into ash.

Tsuna swallowed and Ryohei nodded slowly, because he knew. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt anymore, and Tsuna could feel it. The relief had drenched his body, leaving him cool and refreshed, like stepping into shade.

It hurt that it barely hurt.

Ten years — a whole decade — of knowing and loving each other. Ten years of fighting side by side, of the weight of the mafia, the world and life shared on their shoulders. Ten years of trying so hard to be a good Sky, a good Sun, a perfect Harmony— 

Letting go was so easy.

It should have been painful. It should have hurt. It should have been like ripping out a part of their hearts, like prying the pieces of each other from their soul—

Like putting down a heavy burden. Finally lying down the boulder. Finally unlatching the chains.

Letting go was so easy.

Tsuna didn’t know when he started to cry. 

Ryohei didn’t know if it was out of grief.

“You are my little brother, whether you like it or not,” Ryohei said, not a quiver in his voice, not a catch in his throat. 

“Of course,” Tsuna agreed, and didn’t move to wipe his face when a tear tracked down his cheek. He sat in the misery, and tried not to identify where it came from. “Always, Ryohei. You’re family. Kyoko would kill me.”

Ryohei let out a laugh.

“That’s why I’m going, Tsuna,” he continued, and looked around at his room, stripped bare and packed up in boxes. “You, the guys, Kyoko, Hana, and the kids. You’re all my family. This machine thing is our last shot. I want to be there to make sure it happens.”

Tsuna blinked, trying to make another tear fall. His eyes had already dried up. 

“I understand,” Tsuna nodded, hands clasped in front of him. “Thank you, brother.”

Ryohei grinned and threw an arm around Tsuna’s shoulders, jostling the younger man and pat his chest, “No worries, lil bro! Why don’t you go find Hayato and Takeshi? You’re looking less than extreme, and those two always fix you right up.”

Tsuna turned his head and buried his face in Ryohei’s shoulder, pressing hard and sure like he was trying to impress the feeling into his memory. Then he pulled back and wiped at his face, red and flushed, and Ryohei took his arm off him.

“I’ll see you at dinner then,” Tsuna said, standing in Ryohei’s doorway.

He looked bright standing there. Already, the sweat had started to dry, and that red flush had gone pink and receded. Tsuna felt cool for the first time in ten years.

“See you at dinner,” Ryohei waved, and the door clicked shut.

Ryohei dropped his hand and stood alone in the Sun Quarters. Somewhere down the halls, he heard the sounds of crashing in the Mist Quarters. There was a haunting silence everywhere else.

Everyone had felt it. The Sun was gone. The heat had ended.

They were free now.

Ryohei looked at his diaries, still strewn open across his desk. He walked over and grabbed one from two years ago, opened to the page detailing Kyoko and Hana’s wedding — He tore the page out. Ryohei looked for when Lambo graduated from Elementary school. He tore that out too. A series of logs about odd napping spots Tsuna was seen in during crunch time. Takeshi’s twenty-third birthday. Hayato’s existential crisis. Kyoya’s animal adoption phase. Chrome frantically dodging marriage requests. Mukuro using his illusions to create a haunted house for the kids. 

Ryohei tore and tore, ripping pages out one after another. Then he took a pen, hearing the plastic crack under his too-tight grip and began scratching out all the names and dates. He couldn’t decide which book had the most memories, so he took it all. All of his most important memories stacked together in a disjointed, tattered and defaced pile. 

He dropped the pen and let it roll off somewhere, looking at the pages and how high they stacked. Years worth of life condensed into a pile of paper, frayed unevenly at the edges and full of spelling mistakes. 

Ryohei looked over to his luggage and pulled out one of his keepsakes: the bandages he had wrapped his fists with during the battle for the Rings. They were worn and speckled with bits of dried blood and sweat. 

He unravelled one of the wraps and tied the loose papers together into a bundle. It bent oddly in sections, the knot was askew and he was sure the pages were going to be curved into some weird shape within time — it was a ragged stack of memories.

Ryohei tossed it into his luggage and snapped everything shut.

☀

Despite the fact that Verde had been hailed as the next coming of Da Vinci, he had never been particularly artistic with his machines. They tended to be brutalist in design, with sharp edges and geometric shapes. Function over fashion.

It left Ryohei wondering if he was seeing poetry where there was none, searching for light in the dark. 

The time machine was massive. With two swooping arms of wire and metal plating that arched into the air. It was like an enormous metallic laurel, wreathing the platform that would send Ryohei far away and far ago. That machine against the backdrop of Autumn in full golden swing, framed by the orange and yellow trees that rowed the walls of a quiet valley, only made it shine more. 

It looked magnificent. It looked terrifying. 

“I trust you have everything,” Talbot said as Ryohei approached the machine, his hand clutching the handle of his suitcase.

“Yes,” Ryohei nodded, “And I got those fake IDs.”

“The forged identification, yes, that will certainly make life easier,” Talbot agreed, thumbing the side of his bird’s head cane. “And, forgive me for asking again, but you understand what you are getting yourself into, yes?”

Ryohei smiled at the old man, “Yeah, I know. I’m looking after my family, right?” 

Talbot paused for a moment, regarding the response. Then he smiled with wrinkled lips and settled himself on the uneven ground. 

“Indeed,” Talbot murmured.

Grass crunched underfoot and Ryohei turned to meet the many gazes of the Vongola Family, all of them dressed in black suits like they were mourning a loss. For a moment, Ryohei wondered if Kyoko would come to see him off, but then remembered that the baby wouldn’t handle altitude sickness well.

Tsuna stepped forward from the group, dew clinging to the toes of his shoes and making them shine with the machine’s light. 

“Ryohei,” he began softly, then took a breath and spoke again, louder. “Where you’re going, to the past. You can’t take anything incriminating. Anything with a Vongola embellishment, I need you to return.”

Ryohei knew this was coming. He had at least hoped to keep Kangaryuu — but the emblazoned ‘VONGOLA’ that had been stamped across it said otherwise. Ryohei nodded and reached into his pocket, pulled out his Box Weapon and handed Kangaryuu over. 

Ryohei glanced at his Ring, golden yellow and always warm on his hand. He took it off before he could think twice and, like it burnt, dropped it into Tsuna’s awaiting hand.

It happened faster than Ryohei could realise. The Ring, always so bright and vivid, dulled without notice. Then a soft light shone from within, just like all those years ago when it had been unsealed—

A simple, grey metal band with a shield pendant sat in Tsuna’s palm. Locked and sealed. Just as it had been nearly a decade ago back when they had battled for them against the Varia.

“After all, you truly are Knuckle’s true successor,” Talbot said gently.

Ryohei stared at the cold, contained Ring, and he felt his heart soar. He was Knuckle’s true successor. Even if he wasn’t Tsuna’s, even if he wasn’t Vongola, Ryohei was still Knuckle’s.

He shouldn’t be happy. He really shouldn’t and he knew that. But as Ryohei stared at that tightly sealed Ring once more, he knew he would never be forgotten. That once he was gone, whoever came next, whatever Sun came to take his Quarters, his Box, his Family — They’d never truly replace him. They’d never have his Ring. 

Ryohei would never be forgotten. Knuckles would make sure of that.

Mukuro huffed from off to the side, a kind of snide, vindictive sneer to his expression. He was right, whatever Sun Tsuna brought home would never be his.

Ryohei shouldn’t be so happy.

“Calibrations are ready,” Verde called out.

“R-Right,” Tsuna snapped to attention, his eyes just as locked to the Ring as Ryohei’s. 

Verde loudly scoffed from his place wrapped in computers and gestured for Ryohei to hurry up. 

Ryohei swallowed his anxiety and walked the path between his family and all their allies, the machine aglow with a pale yellow light. The machine gave a soft clunk as he stepped up onto the pedestal, and Ryohei noticed how the air seemed charged, nearly vibrating as he inhaled it.

“Remember your mission Ryohei,” Hayato called out, his arms crossed irritably, visibly uncomfortable. “Find the Vindice, give them the info, get that machine built.”

“Right!” Ryohei shouted as the machine began to give a low, rumbling ‘whirr’.

“And remember what you promised me!” Mukuro reminded, the tone coming through gritted teeth.

“Of course!” He nodded, grinning through the nerves. “Of course, I won’t forget!”

“Ryohei!” Tsuna called out and Ryohei looked over. “Make sure that machine gets built! Please!”

Ryohei nodded, fists clenched at his sides. Then his family all bent at the waist, their Japanese heritage resurfacing with a vengeance as they all bowed their heads to their older brother and school-life ‘senpai’.

“Thank you very much!” They all said together.

Ryohei felt his eyes sting and his vision swim. He took a sharp breath.

“Take care of each other!” Ryohei ordered them and raised his arms in a large, boisterous wave.

The laurel’s metallic tips met high above his head, sparks flew-

Ryohei stood in a large field, with emerald trees and grass as far as the eye could see. His hands still raised to wave goodbye.

#khr #sasagawa ryohei #reborn #fanfiction #time travel fic #fix it fic #khr rare pair #leftnotright #ao3 #proof apollo wear hawaiian shirts

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Hey if you have time/motivation how do you think the companions would react to a child Sole asking to be pushed on a swing?

Funnily enough, I actually requested @that-blue-vault-dweller to do the exact same react and she did an amazing job on fulfilling it but here’s my take on it!!! And yes, I do have the perfect time and motivation for this one Darling thank you!! 💖💖💖

Little Sole and her companion are taking a trip through the woods by Sanctuary when Sole suddenly lets out a whoop and bubbles over to a tree that has a newly built swing attached to it. She turns back to her companion beaming and glittering brightly, hoisting herself up to sit on the seat of the swing.

Nick Valentine: “Well I’ll be. Seems as if someone is thinking of the little ones out here, wanna give it a go, kid?” He sees the appeal of Sole wanting to swing, she is a child after all and could use something to do that’s fun and innocent. He very carefully calculates his strength and force so Sole goes high in the sky, but not space and kissing the moon high.

Piper Wright: “Look Blue! A swing! Heh, Dad had built one for me and Nat to play on when I was younger…. You want to give this one a spin?” She is hit with several memories of her dad helping her onto a handmade swing then him pushing her as high as she wanted to fly. It brings a tear to her eye and she is more than happy to pass on that joy onto Sole while she giggles and squeals through the air.

Codsworth: “Well look here! A swing set, and a rather finely crafted one to say the least. It wouldn’t hurt to have some good o’l fun once in awhile, shall I give you a push?” He is wrapped in warm memories of children laughing and playing on the playground at Sanctuary during the prewar days, Sole being one of them. Sad to say that those times have passed, but that doesn’t mean that it can’t happen now. He takes care to push her to an acceptable height, reminding her over and over again to hold on tight and to not let go.

Preston Garvey: “Nice! I’ve been seeing these things pop up all over for the children at settlements to play on. Would you like me to give you a push?” He figures Sturges built the swing so he has no question in its reliability and is willing to let her fly as high as she wants. Sole is soon whooping and whipping through the air in delight while Preston stands aside to watch her with a grin. Maybe one day there will be more kids like Sole who are having a more carefree time without worrying much about the Commonwealth dangers that might possess them.

Curie: “My how adorable! Someone left a swing for all the little children to play on! Would you like me to give you a push, Mademoiselle?” She finds it absolutely delightful that someone had a nice enough kind thought to install a swing in the woods for the people of the settlement to use. She gives Sole three heaves with all her might before stepping back to watch her go up into the sky and back again, fully planning on asking for a turn once Sole has had her fill.

Cait: “I think I’ve seen one of these before growing up. Of course I wasn’t allowed by me parents to go near it, but I still dreamed. You need a push?” She gives Sole several big pushes and watches as the kid giggles and cheers while she reaches for the stars. It makes her throat a little lumpy to see her having such kiddish fun. She will totally want a turn once Sole has hopped off and has maybe left the area while it’s completely dark, but for now she’ll just hang back and let Sole enjoy her time.

Deacon: “Looks like the aliens left us another gracious gift from the sky’s above. Much nicer than the one they left last year, want me to give you a push?” He may or may not be joking on the first part, but before Sole can ask questions he is already giving her a big heave into the air. He can’t deny the smile on his face and the sparkling behind his sunglasses while he watches Sole happily zoom through the air without so much of a care in the world.

Danse: “Are you certain that swing is sturdy enough to sustain the force? Alright then, I’ll give you a push.” He is a little a wary about the skill of craftsmanship that went into building this swing. If it breaks with Sole on it, she’ll go splat on the ground and it won’t be a pretty sight with all the sticks and rocks scattered around. Slowly, he builds the confidence on the thing as Sole is swung higher and higher under his guided pushes. He figures to himself that they can stay here awhile before returning to their mission, there is no serious rush to complete it anyways. (He wants a turn, let Papa Bear have a turn!)

Hancock: “Hehe, I should have Fahrenheit find someone to build one of these in Goodneighbor. You want me to give you a big push sister?” After some critical thought process and seeing just how high Sole can go, he realizes that it may not be the best option to install such a thing where it’s within easy access to crazed chem-heads who will probably use it as some sort of slingshot. But he can enjoy it out here all he wants anyways, so there is not much of a loss. (It probably should not have taken much thought to come up with that conclusion)

MacCready: “Haven’t seen a working one of these in a long time. Oh, you want to go first? Fine by me, but once I count to one hundred it’s my turn!” He really wants to have a turn on the swing, but Sole is bubbling so much that he gives her several nice big pushes before slowly counting to one hundred. Now he can’t wait to bring Duncan over and have him enjoy such an enjoyable and breathtaking experience. Of course, he won’t be pushing his son to the extreme height he swung himself, but it’ll still be fun.

X6: “I don’t see how this isn’t a complete waste of time. We should be more focused on-…. Very well then.” He gives in after seeing Soles wide eyes look into him with a kind of excitement that he has never seen before in a human. He just stilly watches her fly through the sky after giving her a decent push, deciding after a moment to wait until she’s finished to leave.

Strong: “Why tiny human excited over strings in the woods? Push? Strong gives big pushes!” He can’t seem to figure out the appeal of the object but gets hyped when Sole challenges him to push her as hard as possible. (Fly me to the moooon!!) They are stopped by a responsible and concerned companion minutes later.

Dogmeat: Borks with excitement and jumps on his hind legs to push Sole with his front paws and all his doggy effort. She doesn’t go that high, but she still gives her appreciative thanks to the pooch.

Moral Of The Story: Don’t take, “We are going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship,” seriously when you are on a swing. (Do not learn the hard way plz)

#Don’t ask what went down to make me put that as the moral of the story. #Lol idk why I called Danse Papa Bear. It just seemed to fit. #And he probably acts like one when he’s with kid Sole. #fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout #nick valentine #john hancock #piper wright #curie #fallout 4 companions #maccready #robert joseph maccready #paladin danse #dogmeat #danse #strong #cait fallout 4 #cait #deacon fo4 #deacon fallout 4 #x6 88 #codsworth #preston garvey

[koishua]

𝐊𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒. will i ever get to finish them this year? who even knows.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒

starring: lee heeseung, female reader, park jeongseong

genre: grumpy-sunshine your honor, heavy heavy angst bc it would not be a koishua heeseung fic without it, sprinkles of fluff and humor between friends.

synopsis: lee heeseung had been twelve years old when he’d felt the worst pain in his life, a wrist snapping back as it came into contact with the rough surface of the playground after a fall from the swing. the world had seemed smaller when he’d swung back and forth on the seat, soaring above the horizontal pole the chains had been securely attached to. the adrenaline rushing through his lanky body had been immense, urging his feet to push him higher and higher until he could feel the sky with his outstretched fingertips.

he’d overdone it and the swing had snapped him back, sending him flying off the narrow plank he’d been sitting on. the trip to the hospital had been far too prolonged in his state of agony, tears constantly running down his chin as he had tried his best not to move his arm with the broken wrist despite the jostling vehicle.

that had been his first trip to the local hospital and coupled with the events that had led him there in the first place, he’d developed a distaste for the facility. funny, considering the fact that the ride from the city to the large building would become some of the most familiar paths to him from that moment onwards.

𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

starring: park sunghoon, female reader.

genre: idol!au, exes-to-lovers did you see that coming.

synopsis: love had been beautiful back then. love had been easy, carefree, and heart-fluttering even at the mere thought of the four-lettered word itself. love, for you, is no longer something you find joy in. it had been that way ever since the day you’d turned eighteen; naive and wearing your heart on your sleeve for anyone to come and break it. sunghoon had taken the liberty to do just that, however unknowingly and unintentionally he may have done it.

you were fifteen when you’d first fallen in love with your childhood friend, seventeen when you’d called him your boyfriend, and eighteen when you lost him to life. broken apart by circumstances and necessity, everything you’d built up with him had fallen apart overnight. by the time the dawn of your nineteenth birthday had arrived, you’d no longer have the name park sunghoon present in your everyday life, only contained dearly in your memories and a journal, his name scribbled mindlessly on each and every corner of the aged pages.

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄

starring: choi beomgyu, female reader.

genre: teenage sweethearts turned bitter im sorry my babies, angst, romance bc teen beomgyu has more cute game than i ever will, maybe exes-to-lovers but they never really became exes.

synopsis: three years ago, choi beomgyu had stuck a hundred little stars on your ceiling using a wobbly ladder that could barely support your cat’s weight, let alone his. he’d said that they would glow in the dark— all hundred of them— so that you would not feel lonely. true to his words, they had glowed (for over a thousand nights) and you would stare at your ceiling full of stars for hours and hours on end, though the hollowness in your heart would remain. a million of those plastic stars wouldn’t have been enough for you to not wear his name on your lips to yourself every night like a lullaby.

beomgyu had given you a bouquet of red roses four years ago and you’d put them up to dry, so that you’d still have them with you for a long while. they now sit in a dry vase on your desk, the petals now a deep maroon and the stem having lost all saturation. it had no life, but it was still there with you. beomgyu never called (not even once) after he had left you.

on february fourteenth, exactly five years ago, he’d gifted you a small magnolia tree he’d named after you. he’d said that he would love you for as long as the sapling you’d planted together would live. he’d even said that he would watch as it grew bigger and older with both of you taking care of it. 

“in about ten years, this will the prettiest one in town.”

you’d believed him.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃

starring: lee taeyong, female character (kang jinah), kim doyoung.

genre: comedy i swear to you the more i think about this fic the more i bust a lung, fluff, angst bc obviously i had to it's a cupid au duh, you will either love me or hate me for the ending i planned.

synopsis: desperate to have his feelings of two years reciprocated, he finds a leather-bound book falling by his feet in the old campus library containing a guide on how to summon the very real and very quirky god of love and desire, cupid. in his next life, taeyong would come to write a book on why you should read holy contracts thoroughly before signing your name off in blood.

#wips #enhypen angst #enhypen imagines #nct imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #enhypen x female reader