#but on the bright side. i will never have to hear about that one former dodger ever again in my life lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stsgluver · 5 months

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟐 — gojo satoru

synopsis. another installment of the first years going through old videos of their teacher and his friends

wc. 4.1k

tags. gojo x reader, reader in the same class as gojo, ft. nanami and haibara

an. do I have any idea where im taking this? no. still think its cute though (let’s hope the next part doesn’t take me another couple of months 🤭)

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“good evening boys,” nobara burst into megumi and yuuji’s room. the former who was shocked awake from his nap and the latter who had two big bags of popcorn in either arm. he’d been waiting for an hour for the orange-haired girl, a bright grin on his face.

“you can’t just come into our room,” megumi grumbled, pulling his pillow over his head and rolling over in his bed. nobara and yuuji ignored his complaint, dragging both chairs in their room in front of yuuji’s desk. nobara set up the laptop whilst yuuji ran to nobara’s room to grab a third chair. after five minutes of rustling, their movie night was read.

“come sit all, it’s movie time!” the orange-haired girl said excitedly, pulling megumi’s comforter off of him. he sported his usual frown but sleepily complied nonetheless, dragging the blanket around his body as he sat next to yuuji (who then forced the dark-haired teen to share some of the blanket with him).

“we’re in detention.” the screen opened up with you – hair pulled back into a ponytail as you wore your usual uniform. the three students could recognise the wall behind you as one of their own classes.

“not our fault,” shoko added, fixing gojo’s glasses on the top of her head. the two of you spoke in hushed whispers, glancing towards the door where, presumably, yaga was on the other side. you had shoved your desk closer to shoko’s so it was basically one big desk and the camera was balanced in the middle.

“never is,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, shooting the person next to you a glare.

shoko lightly shifted the camera so that geto could come into frame. he raised his hands up in surrender, “it’s not mine either.”

“satoru is getting yelled at by sensei right now,” you whisper shouted, pointing towards the door. if yuuji turned the volume up any louder, they’d be able to hear yaga yet again scolding gojo for another mistake he’d made on a mission – an order he’d probably disobeyed the more confident he grew in his own ability.

shoko frowned, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “he literally knows it was that idiot. why are we being punished?”

“maybe yaga thinks if we get annoyed at satoru he’ll stop,” geto reasoned with a sigh, as if though he wasn’t gojo’s partner in crime and equally as complicit when he entertained his antics.

“no he won’t. he thinks by punishing us, satoru will have some epiphany about his actions impacting other people. like he thinks far enough ahead to come to that realisation,” you dropped your head down onto your desk. geto laughed quietly, giving you a ‘comforting’ pat on your shoulder.

shoko leant close to the camera, a sharp pencil in hand that she lightly jutted forward, “count your days, gojo satoru.”

the classroom door slid open and the camera was abruptly dropped as yaga walked in, a head of white hair only seconds behind. “is that a came–?” his voice was muffled and cut off quickly as the clip ended.

“bagsy my turn,” yuuji practically jumped from his seat, almost spilling the popcorn everywhere as his half off the blanket dropped from his lap.

megumi grumbled at him as he grabbed the blanket and bag of popcorn from his excitable classmate. “oh no i was in such a rush,” he sarcastically quipped and nobara lightly nudged his shoulder.

gojo behaved as a god now, untouchable to all as he alone was the strongest. even though their teacher had never been anything but overtly childish, his cursed energy wasn’t something that could be ignored. seventeen year old gojo was as human as they come, lovesick and reckless and happy. the balance of the world was yet to be forced upon him.

yuuji grinned as he sat back properly, having only taken a fraction of the time to find a video he wanted in comparison to their previous snooping session. taking back his bag of popcorn, he settled himself back under the blanket. “want some?” he offered megumi, who shook his head in response. “your loss.”

as per usual, it was shoko’s face up close and personal with the camera as she adjusted the lens and made sure that it was on and focused. once she was satisfied, she spun the camera so that it was facing nanami – yuuji could hardly contain himself at seeing his beloved teacher look so… not muscular and scary. small giggles filling the dorm room.

the two were in one of the tokyo classrooms, and sat on desks on opposing sides of the room. nanami had his head deep in a book that would probably kill any of his classmates from sheer boredom alone.

“who do you think the first of us to die will be?” shoko asked indifferently as nanami’s eyebrows furrowed and he slowly looked to his left with an unimpressed expression. even as a sixteen year old, he was set in his rigid mannerisms and beliefs and often saw his four seniors as pains in the ass. whilst you and shoko were definitely ranked higher in his list of people he could tolerate than gojo and geto, questions like this made him contemplate his future in jujutsu sorcery if this was who he was going to be working alongside.

“why are you asking me that?”

“answer,” shoko demanded, zooming in the camera on nanami’s face. his blonde hair was held neatly in his side parting and he looked like anyone but the nanami the students were familiar with.

it looked like he was contemplating telling shoko she was odd, or completely blanking her and opting to finish his book, but the thoughtful silence was interrupted by a sudden thud outside of the classroom. their heads darted up to look at the door and peer through the open doorway into the hallway only to hear gojo’s faint ‘i’m okay!’.

nanami let out a drawn out sigh, shaking his head. “him.”

“none of us!” haibara’s voice called out as he peered out of the classroom’s cupboard that he’d been reorganising (it had been gojo and geto’s job but they’d left it worse than when they’d arrived and he really didn’t want to get told off again by yaga).

shoko eyed the camera in disbelief, not even trying to entertain the young teen’s impossible ideology. “you know the mortality rate of a sorcerer right?” she called back to haibara who didn’t falter in his cheeriness as he affirmed his point.

“and? geto and gojo are almost special grades already! you’ve got to have some faith in us,” he grinned, slipping his jacket back on as he finished up his tidying. his footsteps held a skip that the older students had lost – an innocence that was rarely allowed to exist in the jujutsu world.

yuuji had stopped giggling at the younger appearances of the sorcerers he now knew because he didn’t know him. it was a reminder to the three that no matter how positive they remained against the hardships that would come, it wouldn’t matter. it was kill or be killed and one tiny little mistake, one movement a fraction of a second too late, was the difference between getting paid and coming home in a body bag.

“lame,” shoko rolled her eyes. she tapped her twin twice as she pondered her own question before pointing at the blond opposite her, “my guess is nanami.” despite his disinterest in the question itself, he shot a look of offence to shoko who raised her free hand in surrender. “imagine this: you’re put on a mission with gojo. you’d ask the curse to kill you.”

“i’m getting killed by a curse?” the special grade in question peered into the classroom, glasses pushed up onto his head and revealing his renowned dazzling blue eyes. there was a small scratch on his cheek – presumably from whatever he’d hit into a few minutes prior.

“no, nanami is to avoid you.”

gojo gasped, one hand on the door frame and the other over his heart as he cried out that ‘that couldn’t be true’ and nanami was his ‘bestest bestie for life’. he only halted his dramatics when you and geto forced him out of the doorway so you could join the rest of your classmates.

you sat in your usual seat next to shoko and geto sat on top of your desk. gojo, on the other hand, remained at the door, jaw practically on the floor as he aggressively pointed at the annoyed blond. “guys, nanami is going to die so he doesn’t have to be friends with me, defend me!”

“at least one of us is brave enough to end our suffering,” geto teased, pinching the bridge of his nose with a grin as you lightly hit his arm, scolding him for entertaining gojo’s behaviour.

instead of giving the white haired sorcerer’s antics any more attention, shoko turned the camera so that it was only a couple of inches from your face. “who do you think will die first?”

“satoru,” you said in unison with geto, eliciting another gasp as gojo dropped onto the floor, faking death.

when he didn’t get the sympathetic reaction he wanted, he abruptly sat up, pointing a finger directly at you and geto, “did we all just forget five minutes ago when i kicked your asses in training?”

“i’m literally a grade two sorcerer, what sort of flex is that mr i’m-practically-special-grade-please-worship-the-ground-i-walk-on?” you scoffed. the video ended a few moments later, cutting off laughter and satoru bickering with you.

there was a brief moment of silence – mixed feelings towards what the three had just witnessed. of course it was fun to watch their teacher and his friends but death was a sobering event.

“megumi?” nobara gestured for him to take his turn on choosing their next video but he shook his head, cradling what remained of the bag of popcorn (he’d stolen it back after yuuji nearly spilled once he saw nanami).

“no thanks, you can take my go,” he offered and nobara grinned, worries set aside as she leant forward to find the next video. it was like watching a tv show but it was real life and she knew the characters.

yuuji tried to argue it should be his go – megumi did steal his popcorn after all – but megumi didn’t care enough to aid his argument and there was no way yuuji could overpower the orange-haired sorcerer without his support. nobara was a force to be reckoned with and yuuji was scared to make her mad.

“is that the teacher from kyoto?” nobara asked after several moments of silently scrolling.

yuuji leaned forward to look at the thumbnail of the video she held the cursor over and in between two tall cherry blossom trees was utahime iori. “it is!” he said excitedly; he’d never seen her without the scar before.

the video opened with utahime running towards the camera from the pink trees. they were fully bloomed and in the background there were tourists taking photos.

“did you get a good picture? does my hair look okay?” utahime asked whoever was behind the camera. the questions were so mundane – the questions of teenage girls worried more about their social media than if they’d survive their next mission.

“yeah don’t worry it always does,” shoko’s voice was heard speaking. her hand appeared in the frame a moment later as she handed utahime back her phone. “here’s your phone.”

“you never say that to me,” you grumbled.

“take the hint,” shoko threw a handful of cherry blossom leaves at you and there was the sound of rustling as you tried to shake what you could out of your hair.

“shoko ieiri!” you whined, followed by some incoherent threat and a complaint that you’d just had your hair done after some curse had ruined it the other week.

utahime picked up the camera, lifting it high up to show off the trees and bustling streets of tourists and commuters. “i thought we specifically didn’t bring gojo and geto to avoid childless arguments.”

“yn’s fault,” shoko countered, jumping away into the frame of the camera as you tried to hit her arm. she giggled, half behind utahime, “do you at least have gojo’s card?”

“you mean this gorgeous thing?” you appeared on the other side of utahime, sleek black card between your fingertips that you showed to the camera. “today is on him ladies.”

“you truly are taking one for the team being with him, i retract all earlier insults.” shoko held her hand out for a truce, bowing her head as you took her hand.

“i appreciate it, it’s not an easy task,” you dramatically wiped a fake tear away from the corner of your eyes. gojo had given you the card before you’d embarked on your monthly trip to the city, telling you that as long as you brought back a bag of sweets and kikufuku from that one cafe, he didn’t care what you spent.

you froze a moment later, a look of deep thought crossing your features, “can you guys hear that?”

“no,” utahime frowned, a look of concern as she glanced around at the crowd. if your day was about to be ruined by a curse, or worse yet, curse users–

“sounds like the card is saying we need to buy overpriced starbucks.” the three of you broke out into grins at the potential that the black card had given you.

“oh my god, you’re so right and wait,” shoko grabbed your wrist and brought the card close to her ear, “it needs cigarettes to be bought too.”

“shoko! you said you were quitting,” utahime nudged her and shoko blew her an apologetic kiss. the nicotine patches she’d bought to try and quit were still sealed and in a draw she hadn’t opened since she put them in there several weeks ago. quitting was nothing more than a fantasy considered once every blue moon.

“she’s a liar–”

“–and proud,” shoko finished your sentence with a nonchalant shrug.

“i wish sensei would give me his card for a day,” nobara said wistfully as the video ended, twisting a strand of her orange hair around her finger as she mentally plotted the order in which she’d go to all of the shops in tokyo. all she’d need was a full day – 9 to 5 – and she’d never have to shop another day in her life.

“you’d max it out within an hour,” yuuji scoffed, scooping a handful of the popcorn into his mouth. nobara scrunched her nose up at him as he messily chewed down.

“actually it’s a lot harder than it would seem,” megumi noted.

nobara raised a brow at him – megumi and shopping? “you’ve tried?”

“we tried multiple times,” megumi spoke without much of a second thought. his jaw clenched slightly as he realised his mistake and the consequential curious eyes . pointing to the dark screen, he lightly elbowed the boy next to him’s side, “yuuji take your go quick before i kick kugisaki out so i can sleep.”

“welcome to yn’s kitchen- don’t touch that,” you whacked geto’s hand with a wooden spoon, stopping him from dipping his finger into the bowl of chocolate icing. the dark haired sorcerer cradled his ‘injured’ hand though it was comical to believe you’d actually done any damage – he was at least an entire six inches taller than you.

“today we made a cake,” you held your arms out in a jazz hands manner to show something that… resembled a cake? if the students squinted maybe they’d agree.

“for satoru’s birthday,” geto added, pulling out the big ‘18’ candles that would eventually be used.

it was pretty obvious that neither of you had any real baking experience, but the thought was definitely there. the shape somewhat was cylindrical, only a small clump had chosen to stay in the pan and had to be ‘surgically’ glued back to the rest of the shape with a large scoop of nutella. you were hoping that the icing would disguise the bitterness of the burnt edges.

“taste it,” you smiled at the camera, shifting the plate towards geto like you were on some cooking show and that pile of sponge was something to be proud of.

geto pushed the plate back without any hesitation, “i don’t want to.”

“do it.”

“you do it.”

your smile dropped and you flashed geto a glare before composing yourself by clearing your throat. taking a deep breath, you broke off a tiny piece of the top layer of the cake, “so i’m now going to trial this small bit for research purposes.”

you barely had chewed twice before your mouth was scrunching up in disgust and you were disappearing off camera to find a bin to spit it out into.

geto, unfazed and unsurprised by your joint failure, picked up the spatula and began dolloping it onto the top of the cake.

“that’s horrendous-” you came back in view with a glass of water in hand. “what are you doing?”

“hiding that with icing,” he stated obviously.

“we’re still giving that to him?”

geto grinned, directly at the camera as he hoped gojo would find this video after he too ate this. “obviously we’re still giving it to him.”

“it’s weird,” yuuji hummed once the video ended, “those two were sensei’s closest friends and yet he doesn’t speak about either.”

“can you blame him? have you ever spoken to maki about the attack geto led against the school last year?” nobara pointed out and yuuji’s eyes widened as he’d nodded. maki was a woman of few words but when it came to yuta? she’d spend all day ranting about how much she disliked geto and that he’d gotten what was coming to him.

“my turn,” megumi placed the now empty bag of popcorn onto the floor as he scrolled and clicked on the first video that he could find. you weren’t a conversation he was ready to have yet – he could bearly speak to gojo about it, let alone the two loudest mouths in the school.

the video opened to the loud sound of the subway. shoko and geto were sat on one side whilst you and gojo on the other – with you holding up the camera as your beloved boyfriend stood up in the middle of the subway carriage.

“fit check!” gojo did a little spin, showing off his basic hoodie and baggy jeans that he wore almost every time the four snuck out of the high school – or in fact, did anything together for that matter. for someone so rich he really did not use his wealth to its full capacity.

after his little twirl and bow, he dropped back down next to you, looking over the camera into your eyes as he seeked your validation. “i look hot right?”

“you always look hot,” you flipped the camera to face yourself as you not-so-subtly-whispered, “his mum paid me to say that.” the students knew their teacher well enough to know that the dramatic gasp they heard was almost definitely followed by an overexaggerated display of anguish. your giggles and geto’s laughter only confirmed the conclusion.

“i think i need a kiss to recover. or i’ll spend the rest of my days as a ghost, heart broken and never able to leave this subway as i haunt it and all the other coup–” the lens view was obstructed by their teacher’s hoodie as you gave into his demands, cutting off his pathetic rant.

a loud groan was heard from shoko as she snatched back the camera and held it up to her unimpressed face and geto gagging. “i prefer it when they’re broken up,” she grumbled.

before megumi could interject and tell nobara to get out now (he didn’t care if yuuji teased him for his ‘need for beauty sleep’), the video ended and automatically opened onto the next one. his words were caught in his throat at the oh-so-familiar apartment.

“get that out of my face.” you were older now, only be a few years but there was a scar on your neck that hadn’t been there in any of the other videos. gojo’s laugh could be heard as he ignored your request and instead held it up high enough to capture you both in the frame.

“you don’t remember this old thing?” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your forehead, securing you before you could duck away from him.

“we’re twenty one stop acting like we’re ancient,” you crossed your arms in front of yourself as you accepted that maybe just possibly you didn’t quite the match the strength of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer.

“we may as well be. we’ve got two kids.”

your eyes widened and you shook your head, “we do not–”

“yn!” a small megumi appeared in the corner of the frame and you quickly shut up as gojo gave you an i-told-you-so look. “gojo said he’d help me with my maths homework. an hour ago.”

the smugness almost instantly vanished from the sorcerers face as you glared at him for once again avoiding his responsibilities. because apparently there was more to looking after children than feeding them and taking them out for the day as a reward when they beat up bullies in school.

“i’m a busy man megumi, saving lives, helping–” gojo winced as you elbowed him in the side, allowing you to slip from his grasp.

“ignore him megs, let’s go into the living room,” you said, ushering the small boy out of the room. two years of this and you were surprised that megumi even still bothered to give gojo a chance to act his age.

“don’t take my sweets!”

you halted megumi purposefully, “do you want gojo’s sweets?” the camera although kind of forgotten now, still had the young boy in view and picked up his smirk in full as he nodded.

“i’d love them.” gojo winced again, pretending like tears were about to start falling. as if though he couldn’t easily afford to replace anything they did eat by the thousands.

“perfect,” you exaggerated in a condescending tone. as the amazing parent that you were, you made sure not to forget about the other child that was staying with you. “tsu! do you want a treat?”

“yeah!”

“even better,” you clapped your hands together and gestured for megumi to continue on into the living room again. “have fun with your camera love. i’m very busy adulting here.”

“this isn’t over,” the white haired sorcerer shook his head, betrayal clear on his features.

you mouthed the words ‘i love you’, blowing him a little kiss as you disappeared around the corner. gojo gave you a fake grin, narrowing his eyes at the camera.

“jokes on them, i pay the bills. no more electricity for them.”

“you were so cute!” yuuji practically squealed as he and nobara jumped up

“your hair was so spiky!” nobara reached out to poke at his less bold spikes that he sported nowadays. they had earnt him his nickname of ‘sea urchin’ but still couldn’t beat his younger hairdo.

“can we meet her?” yuuji asked, the poor boy having been oblivious to any of the social cues that nobara already had. nobara coughed at his request, eyes flicking between the two boys.

megumi shook his head. “i think that’s enough for tonight. please, kugisaki,” he nodded his head towards the door. the girl gave him a quick salute, completing her secret handshake with yuuji before she grabbed the laptop and disappeared from their dorm back to her own.

the dark haired student ignored yuuji’s complaints as he dropped himself back onto his bunk bed, reaching for his phone. upon opening his messages, he scrolled to a contact and pressed on the chat.

all of the messages displayed on the screen were sent from him to the unknown contact. there was never a response, or even a read message. just ‘delivered’. he knew that if he scrolled up it would be much the same. the last message he’d ever received was one on his 14th birthday; a simple ‘happy birthday. i love you. i’m sorry’.

hi. we miss you. i hope you’re doing okay.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts

#snapshot !#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #gojo fluff #gojo angst #geto x reader #shoko x reader #utahime x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

2K notes · View notes

rogueddie · 2 years

Text

One small glimpse had all it took for Eddie to be completely hooked. Just one little glimpse, just enough to get him curious, just enough to get him in the store.

And then he'd truly seen Steve Harrington, dressed in a cute little sailors uniform. The shorts weren't anywhere near as sinful as the ones he wore in gym but... something about them being part of his uniform, something about the fact that someone is paying him to wear them, makes it seem so much more... dirty? Eddie isn't sure, something about it immediately riles him up.

They're so flattering too, somehow make his legs look better than the gym shorts did. When he turns around, bending over to grab something out of the lower cabinet...? Eddie is just glad it was loud, no one could hear the quiet noise he made.

Of course he'd teased him. How could he not? Former King of Hawkins high, reduced to serving ice cream in a slutty sailor suit.

"It's not slutty," Harrington had hissed, flushing bright red. "It's just a uniform."

"Mm, and you wear it so well."

It was just a short little visit. Got some ice cream, said a few teasing things, left within five minutes.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd always found Harrington attractive, who hadn't? He wasn't necessarily ashamed of that. But, even then, it had never been this bad. A fleeting thought that the guy looked good, sure. Waking up in the middle of the night, fantasizing about him in his work uniform?

A week later, he's sure that he's remembering wrong. He's probably just having a bad week, weirdly hormonal and didn't realize that he was into sailor uniforms... or something. Because there's no way Steve Harrington looked so pretty in that uniform that it warranted this much thought.

So, later in the day, he goes back to the mall. Picks up a new album first, heading inside Scoops Ahoy- he'd pass it by on the way back, it gives him the perfect excuse.

Harrington is serving, but he's turned around, talking to his co-worker. It gives Eddie an unfortunately good look at how the shorts pull a little too tight in all the right areas. It doesn't help when he shifts his stance as he talks, leaning forward a little more so his back almost arches, hips tilting to the side and-

Eddie ducks his head to stare at the album in his hand like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, shuffling so the girl in front of him still waiting at the counter blocks his view.

After he finally carries on doing his job, serves the girl so Eddie can sidle up to the counter with a smirk, he rolls his eyes. "Anymore inappropriate comments?"

"Yeah. You sure those shorts are the right size?"

Harrington frowns, looking down at said shorts. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. Sure, I believe you." Eddie glances at his co-worker.

She's a decently pretty girl, he assumes- but she's giving him a knowing look, pretends to tip her hat at him with a wink. Huh.

"Same as last time," Eddie drawls when Harrington finally stops frowning at his uniform.

He stares at him for a moment, squinting a little. He snaps his fingers when he finally remembers, grinning. It's almost criminal- to look that good on a normal day, but then also wear that sailor uniform and also be cute?

Someone up above must hate him.

"Here you go, that's $1.55."

Eddie reluctantly accepts the ice cream, hands him the money in far too many coins. It's the right order. "Is that the right amount?"

Harrington grumbles, annoyed, as he slowly starts counting each cent. Shakes his head when he's done. "5 cents short, sorry dude."

"Damn." Eddie pushes the ice cream back at him so he can dig through both pockets.

"Just- stop, here," Harrington holds the ice cream out. Eddie had very nearly wiggled out what felt like a quarter stuck in his pocket too. "You can pay me back later."

"You sure?" Eddie cautiously takes the offered ice cream. Hesitates for a moment- he's being nice, actually nice. Eddie isn't sure teasing is the best way to repay that but... he's not told Eddie to back off yet. "You just want cash or what?"

"What other type of payment is there?"

"Goods and services," Eddie wiggles his eyebrows.

Harrington splutters for a moment, flushing red again. So Eddie takes the opportunity to leave, not waiting for a response.

Whilst it's only 5 cent, Eddie has learnt the hard way that every penny counts. But he's been given the perfect excuse to come back. He's practically been invited back.

Eddie tries not to feel too giddy. Tries not to let it get to his head.

He holds out exactly three days. Three days of absolute hell! He can barely concentrate half the time, mind constantly wondering back to Harrington in that stupid uniform. The way he'd blushed, again, so easily. Seemed to almost welcome the teasing, too. At least, he didn't seem put off by it. It's almost too good to be true.

He'd been busy all day though. Band practice had run later than they'd planned and everyone else had things they needed to get to afterwards as well. It didn't go well for anyone.

Eddie is lucky he arrives at the mall in time, the stores only just starting to pack up for the evening. Most stores are completely empty- including Scoops Ahoy.

But it's completely empty. Not even Steve or a different employee stand at the counter, or shuffle around the tables cleaning up. For a moment, Eddie is sure that they must have closed up early and he really has arrived too late.

But then the 'staff only' door swings open, Harrington shuffling out. He freezes moments after he steps out, just as surprised to see Eddie.

"Hey," he eventually says. He even gives Eddie a little wave. "Sorry, uh, didn't expect anyone else in. Most of the ice cream is, uh, packed up. I don't... we might still have yours?"

"It's ok if you don't," Eddie offers, sauntering over to the counter. "I'll take a recommendation."

Harrington nods, shuffling over to start rooting through... things. Eddie isn't sure. He keeps up his bad habit of just bending over instead of crouching though. Eddie isn't sure whether he's happy about that or not. It is a nice view.

"We have, uh, the U.S.S Butterscotch ice cream? It's the closest we have available."

"That's fine. As long as it's not vanilla. How much is it?"

"Oh, right, sorry. It's $1.99."

Eddie roots through his pockets, dumping his change on the counter first. He's pretty sure he doesn't have enough- and he's right, he's just about 34 cent short.

"Shit. You got anything cheaper?"

But Harrington shakes his head again, already pulling out the scooper. "Just pay me back. It's fine."

Eddie raises his eyebrows. One time, 5 cents, isn't anything to take note of. A second time, now adding up to 39 cents?

"What if I can't afford to?"

Again, he shrugs off the question. "You're the one who suggested goods and services."

"You know what I was implying with that, right?"

He shrugs again, but he keeps his head down, focusing on fiddling with the ice cream scooper. He's blushing.

Eddie leans forward, onto his elbows, tilting his head. He pats the counter. "Come here then."

"What?" Steve tries to ask. But Eddie just pats the counter again. So Steve steps a little closer, leans on his palms though, keeping straight and upright. "What?"

Eddie looks over him for a moment, considering... it'd be worth the punch, he decides.

He grabs the little red tie of Steve's uniform, pulling him down. He leans up to meet him halfway, unable to hold in his pleased hum when Steve tilts his head to the side as he allows Eddie to pull him down.

His mouth opens just as easily when Eddie immediately deepens the kiss. The noise he makes when Eddie nips at his lower lip too- so high, needy. Irresistible. He just has to bury his hands in his hair, holding his head still so Eddie can take what he wants. Rewards Steve with a little tug on his hair.

He's panting when Eddie finally lets him go, blushing all the way down his neck, eyes a little glassy.

"That enough, sailor?"

Steve blinks at him for a moment, looking a little out of it.

"Steve."

"Oh, uh, yeah... right, yeah, that- yeah. I'll just, um. I'll get your order."

This time, Eddie let's his eyes linger. Doesn't bother hiding it when Steve looks back round, feeling almost gleeful at how Steve almost seems to preen.

... can you tell that I've been thinking about this post too much?

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #ficlet #scoops ahoy #altorprecanon

3K notes · View notes

revasserium · 2 months

Note

Zoro and the hunter's heart (as, you know, he's a former pirate hunter... nudge nudge)

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

a hunter's heart

opla!zoro; 6,553 words; fairytale retelling!au, fem!reader, no "y/n", hunter!zoro, fluff and angst (only a bit), hurt/comfort (kinda), mentions of witches and magic and curses

summary: there are some stories that the world can't stop telling

a/n: i should know better by now than to think an opla zoro fic could be anything but too involved... ╮(￣▽￣"")╭ tagging @dira333 bc its ur request and @bby-deerling bc u were kind enough to ask <3

It is a sordid tale, to hear the villager’s old witch tell it — one near and dear as the rise of the sun in the east, the set of the moon in the west, old as time itself. Because you see, there are some stories so ancient and so integral to the world that it bears, nay demands, retelling, reliving. Stories so stanch and certain that they wear groves into the truth of the world by the tracks they trail, over and over and over again. Stories that the world can never stop telling, no matter how hard it might want to or try.

This is one such tale.

“Take her into the forest — and bring me back her heart,” commanded the Queen.

The hunter had knelt before his queen and bowed his head, his swords heavy at his side. Inside his chest, his own heart was thundering, thundering. A storm brewing within the depths of his soul. But he’d schooled his expression straight and taken his orders.

You were nothing more than a kitchen maid, but you had the most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. All morning, he could hear it echoing through the cool stone halls as you went about your baking of the day’s fresh bread, your churning of the week’s soft butter. He’d lean against the wall just outside the kitchens to listen, to let the music of your voice wash over the ragged edges of his soul, to soothe his frayed ends, to mend what parts might have been broken.

Sometimes, he’d find himself wandering toward the gardens in the back of the castle grounds just to catch an echo of your voice near the wells, where he knows you’ll be in the early afternoons, collecting water for the day’s dinner service. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear it over the clink and clash of swords as he spars with his fellow knights and hunters, and he’d catch himself slowing, almost stilling, and those are the only times anyone’s ever managed to get the upper hand on him.

“C’mon doll, give us another tune.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, sing us a sea shanty! Or another one of your show tunes!”

Zoro frowns as he rounds the corner one day to find a few young knights leaning against the castle wall, towering over where you’re standing, a half-filled bucket of water clutched in your hands. He’s about to intervene when he hears the sound of splashing water, and a second later, the young knights are stumbling back, squawking with indignation as you huff, wiping your hands daintily on your apron.

“So sorry, seems like my hand’s slipped —” you drop into a rather sardonic curtsy before marching passed the stunned young men, leaving them blinking and drenched in your wake. Zoro chuckles, the sound making both of them whirl around, color rising ruddy into their cheeks. They sober immediately as they meet Zoro’s eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow, looking them over.

“S-sorry sir… we just — we were uh —”

“Just leaving,” the second knight supplies as he grabs the first by the arm and tugs him back out into the courtyard.

Zoro watches them go with a muted amusement twisting his lips before turning back to find you peering up at him with a bright, steely light in your eyes. Your shoulder is pressed to the edge of the wall, your body half-hidden behind it as if you’re uncertain of what he might do. As if you’re uncertain of him.

“Sorry about them…” Zoro dips his head, suddenly very aware of how he must seem to you — just another one of the Queen’s toy soldiers, gilded in gold, touched by the sly silver of her cool, slithering magic. Would you think he’d be like them — like those bumbling idiots who couldn’t tell a board sword from a longsword? Who thought braveness and bravado one and the same? And suddenly, the thought that you might sickens him, and he swallows hard, hurrying to explain.

“Not all of us are…” Zoro’s voice trails off as he casts about for the right word — idiots? “Like them”? Neither seems to do it all justice.

He watches as you take half a step out from behind the stone wall’s cover and drop into a slight curtsey.

“I know.” And there’s a bright sheen to the soft whisper of your voice, a certainty that Zoro can’t quite place. And he knew then as he knows now that you — you are just a bit different. Just a bit more than he’d ever given you thought or credit for. Perhaps that was his mistake — he makes a mental note not to make it again.

“I know you’re not…” you wave a light hand towards where the other two knights had stumbled away, and the pinkness in your cheeks makes Zoro’s stomach do a few choice flips he’d never remembered his own stomach capable of till now.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then — you both break into laughter at the same time — him, a tad self-conscious, you, unbidden and bright as birdsong.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Your sparring form is really nice.”

You both speak at the same time, and in the startled quiet that stretches right after, Zoro finds himself held still by the weight of your eyes, the heaviness of your gaze as it rests on him, wide and startled and… almost pleased. He clears his throat and tries again —

“I hear you all the time —”

“I see you sometimes —”

It happens again, and when you both pause this time, he can see the burgeoning smile threatening to spill over your petal-pink lips; he can feel his own smile breaking like ice in spring’s first thaw.

“I don’t know much about music but —”

“It looks like you’re dancing —”

By the third time, Zoro’s starting to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, or perhaps he is — because what wouldn’t he do to keep on basking in the sunshine of your laughter, to soak in the brilliance of your smile? What stars and moons and planets wouldn’t conspire to align just for another chance to glance into the midnight dark of your eyes, as depthless as any sea, as wide as any self-respecting night?

“Well —” Zoro clears his throat; you purse your lips and wait for him to finish, “I’ve never danced…”

Mischief hinges on the edge of your smile as you peer up at him through your lashes, “You should try it sometime. I hear it’s quite the workout.”

And there’s something singing beneath the sweetness of your voice that hints at a darker, more intimate meaning to the word dance, but Zoro stops himself before his mind can unspool entirely. He sucks in a breath and chews over the words now sitting solid and unwieldy on his tongue —

“I’ve always thought dancing… required music and —” he swallows and forces his sentence onward like shepherding a stubborn and reluctant bull, “a partner.”

You let your held lilt sideways, watching him like a bird on a branch might consider a squirrel on the ground.

“It’s just… I’ve never quite had either before,” he hurries to explain, feeling heat creeping into his cheeks and finally, he forces his eyes away from you, glancing up towards the piercingly blue sky, completely devoid of clouds. He curses inwardly, his eyes wandering for something — anything — to latch onto that’s not you and your mesmerizing eyes, with the universe caught behind them, or your lips, shaped so much like the answer to a question he hadn’t realized he’d been asking for his whole, entire life.

He watches as you square your shoulders and take a half-step into his personal space, just the tips of your toes grazing into the proximity of too close and at the same time not nearly close enough — then, you dip into a curtsey, lowering your eyes so he has nothing to ground himself on except for the brief breath of your skin, the waft of your hair sweeping down over your shoulders, smelling so much like cotton and milk, salt and honey.

“But now, from where I’m standing…” you look up, and your smile is so much poisoned apples and cyanide, “you’ve got both, don’t you?”

Zoro sucks in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his head spinning for a second too long and he almost stumbles. Almost. But he catches himself, and when he does, his body moves as a marionette on a string — as if his arms and legs already knew what his mind had for so long kept from him —

He dips into a bow, sweeping one arm over his stomach, the other out to the side. And there’s no dull, discordant clank of armor because hunters and soldiers are made different. Fighters, both, but hunters require a different kind of bloodlust, are a different strain of heartless.

You let out a soft laugh and Zoro wonders if there’s any better music in the world as he offers you his hand. You take it, and he draws your body near with reverent palms, exhaltant fingers — he can almost feel the wild birdwing beat of your heart fluttering in your chest, supplemented by the thundering of his own much more well-trained heartbeat, but even so, the dull pulse of it makes him feel heady with excitement — thump, thump, thump.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the pair of you begin to dance. At first, just to the soft inhale and exhale of your breaths and his. And then, you smile up at him, a startling, chest-piercing, swan-song thing — as you begin to sing.

His first step is hesitant, and the second less so. By the third, Zoro feels his shoulders flattening out and his chest rising as he clasps your palms against his and takes the lead. You let him, with a tinkling laugh, your smile light and bright as daybreak. Your feet skip like pebbles across a mirror lake, and by the time he lets you go, the midday sun is beating down over the castle grounds and the lunch bell is ringing off in the distance. You skip out of his reach and drop into another curtsey —

“Seems like it’s past time for me to go.”

“But —” Zoro bites back the urge to chase after you, his body surging forward to try and stay within the warmth of your orbit.

“Tomorrow,” you breathe, your cheeks a bit too pink, grinning up at him with mischief in your eyes, “after the morning meal… I think I might have some more water to collect.”

You shoot him a meaningful wink as you sweep by him, humming beneath your breath as you go. You brush by him with a sweep of skirt-tails, and it’s a full minute before Zoro can form a coherent thought, whipping around to see the shadow of you disappearing around the corner of the long corridor that leads down to the kitchens.

Up above, neither of you sees the Queen with her blood-red nails clicking against the wide windowsill, her eyes trailing the shape of Zoro as he sucks in a long breath, and shakes himself, before heading back to the training grounds, his earrings catching the afternoon light in a series of gold-gilded sparks.

The next day, Zoro finds you dancing to a two-step by yourself, a bucket of water propped on your hip, the late morning sun caressing your skin like a lover’s fingers. And he finds himself held still by the sight of you, your eyes closed, your body swaying to the rhythm and breath of the earth, the sound of your voice filling the air as water might an already-full glass — spilling over and over till it soaks the earth between you both.

He clears his throat, and you open your eyes. You smile.

Almost sheepishly, he offers you a hand. You take it, and the half-filled bucket is left to teeter precariously on the well’s stone-worn edge as you laugh, letting Zoro pull you in, his palm pressing to the bend of your waist, fingers skimming the small of your back.

Three days, you dance. Three days of blissful mornings and sun-soaked afternoons. Three nights of moonlit walks and roses dipped in starlight.

Because the best things in the world always come in threes — but it just so happens that so do the worst.

Zoro feels his skin crawling when he receives the summons from the Queen. There is only one reason the Queen would summon a hunter like him — she’s found something (or someone) worthy of being hunted. He prays it will not take him away for long.

“Zoro…” the Queen purrs, barely turning to look at him as he bows his head, holding the pose for three beats before straightening. She reaches up to grace her fingers over the edges of an ornate mirror hanging on her wall — a mirror she covets. Zoro has seen its magic, the dull, rough-edged ache thrumming through the earth and the air like poison. He schools his expression into one of flat disinterest as he squares his shoulders.

“Your Highness.”

“I trust you’re familiar with my mirror?”

Zoro makes a soft noise of consent, cold slipping down his spine like cool fingers.

“Then… I trust you know what it does?” the Queen asks, peering at him through it’s dark, onyx reflection.

Zoro glances down, “I can’t say I do, Your Highness.”

“Well then, I’d say you’re in for a treat today —” she chuckles, the sound soft and slithering, her painted lips twisting up in a cruel smirk, “this is a magic mirror, you see… and it’s magic… tells the truth —”

Zoro remains quiet, waiting, waiting.

“Mirror, mirror…”

Zoro feels the air around him condensing, the temperature dropping as the heat siphons from the room into the mirror. The darkened surface swirls with a sickly, purple light before a pallid face appears, empty eye sockets and a hollow mouth. The skeletal reflection peers imperiously back up at the image of the Queen standing before it.

“… tell me, who is the fairest in all the land?”

The Queen preens in front of the mirror, and Zoro feels his stomach filling with lead weight at her question.

Once upon a time, he’d met a kindly old witch in the woods. Her hut had been made of something that looked curiously like gingerbread, and the flowers that decorated her windowsill had glimmered with the shine of tempered sugar. He had offered to help her carry a basket of waxy red apples from the market to her hut and in return, she’d offered him the answer to one question.

“What… exactly is magic?” he’d asked, young and uncertain.

She’d laughed a laugh that might’ve once been high and imperious but then had only sounded like an amused old woman faced with a question she hadn’t quite expected.

“Magic… well — I’ll tell you this — magic is always more than meets the eye, and never what it promises.”

Zoro had blinked, frowning as she’d peered up at him with a pair of mismatched eyes — one milky and filmed over, the other dark as crow’s feathers.

“What does… that mean?”

“It means… that sometimes, magic lies. Sometimes… magic only tells you what you want to hear. Sometimes, magic is more about what you think is true because in the end… that’s the only truth that matters.”

The magic mirror contemplates the Queen’s question as Zoro stands behind her, holding his breath.

“There is but one fairer than Your Highness —”

Zoro’s vision tunnels, the voice of the mirror thickening around him as if his head were suddenly submerged in water. Heat creeps up the back of his neck like spider’s legs, quick and skittering, and he knows the answer before the mirror says your name.

“I see…” the Queen muses, though Zoro can hear the hard edge in her voice, the light catching on it like a twisting blade as she turns back around to face him. And she is beautiful, there’s no denying — the Queen’s face was, up until very recently, what Zoro had thought true beauty must be like.

He’d understood it only in the most abstract, academic sense — beauty — had only ever nodded when the other knights and hunters had wolf-whistled at the rosy-cheeked maids that dotted the castle, scattered along the halls like handfuls of sugar.

The first time he saw the Queen, he’d wondered at the perfect proportions of her eyes and nose, the dark, certain arch of her brows, the cruel tug at the ends of her painted lips and he’d thought — ah, is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he’d seen you, hadn’t he? And your face — he knows it is not perfect, he’s leaned in close enough to see the texture that mars your cheeks, the way one side of your mouth always lilts up first in a smile, the flecks that adorn your eyes like lost shards of sunlight caught beneath your lashes —

Beautiful, he’d thought.

Later, he wonders if that moment might’ve been your doom.

“Take her into the forest,” the Queen says, smiling her cruel, cruel smile as she watches Zoro lower his head, “and bring me back her heart.”

Zoro swallows hard as he bows.

You are waiting for him the next morning, just after breakfast, your hands laced behind your back, an empty bucket resting precariously along the edge of the well.

“No dancing today,” Zoro says, his voice clipped and low, his gaze darting away toward the darkness of the forest behind you. You blink up at him before following his gaze.

“Then… will you accompany me on a walk?”

Zoro frowns, nearly wincing away from you as you lean in, grinning your sly fox’s grin.

“But…”

“Oh, don’t tell me a hunter like you’s scared of the forest.” You dance away from him before he can protest, reaching for the bucket and propping it on your right hip, “C’mon, I promised the head cook I’d pick some berries for the feast tonight. Didn’t you hear? The Queen’s finally found a spell for eternal youth and beauty.”

Zoro stares after you as you pick your way across the garden, making for the wrought-iron gates that separate the castle grounds from the wilderness beyond.

“A spell for…” Zoro’s frown deepens as you glance at him over your shoulder with a sad little smile.

“They say the Queen was cursed by a powerful witch to always search for that which she can never have.”

Zoro keeps behind you as you meander into the shadow of the trees, seemingly following a trail only you can see, occasionally stopping to bend over a burst of bright red berries, picking a few and tossing them into your bucket before pressing one to your lips. He watches as berry juice dark as blood tints your lips and trickles down the edge of your mouth.

“Did you know… that there are only three ways to break a witch’s curse? One is for the witch herself to lift the curse.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, your eyes shine like twin stars.

“Another is to kill the witch and all those who cared for her.”

Here in the darkness of the forest, the lopsided lilt of your smile flashes white, and sharp, dripping dark red —

Zoro’s sword is in his hand before he realizes, and suddenly, every twig-snap and leaf-rustle sets his bones on edge. The wind tastes sweet on his tongue, swirls thick with magic as he whirls around, searching for the silhouette of you and finding nothing but endless, pressing dark.

“Zoro?” your voice nearly makes him stumble as he twists around, eyes wide, chest heaving, only to find the tip of his sword resting against the delicate hyphen of your clavicle. Your breath hitches, soft as he’d always remembered it, but you don’t pull away; you don’t even flinch as you stare up at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

“Are you going to kill me?” your voice is low and smooth, without a single flicker of fear.

Zoro’s grip loosens as he forces himself to pull back. He hisses out a breath and shakes loose his shoulders.

“No,” he says, his own voice coarse, clipped, “I’m not. But —”

“Oh good — that would’ve made things rather awkward for our date.”

Zoro gapes as you laugh, twirling around to continue on your way through the forest. He hastens after you a few seconds later, brushing aside low-hanging branches and shouldering passed thicker bits of underbrush.

“D-date?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sounding very pleased as you lead him on, and on, and on, “you wouldn’t want to miss it — grandma’s baking pie.”

“What… ” but his words trail off once more as you turn and make towards a clearing that he’s certain wasn’t there a moment ago — a clearing with a tiny hut that looks as if it’s made of gingerbread. The flowers on the windowsill glitter jewel-bright and candy-hard.

“My grandma’s house,” you say, smiling as you push through the door with your bucket of blood-red berries still perched on your hip.

Zoro’s frown carves ever harder into his brows as he follows after you on hesitant feet, though he can’t help the way his muscles loosen the second he steps over the small hut’s threshold and catches a whiff of something wonderful in the air — cinnamon and sugar and apples.

“Ah, you’ve made it just in time!” the old witch looks up from where she’s tending a vast fire that casts the entire hut in a warm, ethereal glow. Zoro glances back at the open patch of cloudless blue sky somehow visible in a small gap between the trees before stepping in.

“Apple pie again, grandma?”

“Your favorite,” the old witch replies with a grin as you set the bucket on the small wooden table, “And I see you’ve brought a guest, though…” the old witch’s single black eye catches the firelight as she peers are Zoro, still standing just inside the doorway.

“It’s nice to see you again, young man.”

Zoro bows, rather awkwardly, and though it’s been many years since he’d helped the old woman with her apples, she looks exactly the same. He can’t say quite the same for himself.

“Come, sit! Have some berry wine,” you say, ushering Zoro towards the table, where you’ve somehow replaced the bucket with two jars of red liquid that glimmers like garnets in the flickering firelight. You pour a glass and nudge it towards Zoro, who simply stares, trying very hard to wrap his head around what must be happening.

A dull, thrumming ache is gathering at the base of his skull, but the pie smells so sweet and the wine looks ever so tantalizing.

He reaches out and takes a sip, letting the cool liquid slip down his throat. He feels it slither through him, sending tiny pin-pricks of heat trailing along his limbs as he swallows.

“Ah… so he’s not like the rest of them.”

He blinks down at the wine in his cup for a second more before you reach out and tug it from his hand. A soft palm cups his cheek and forces his face up. He meets your eyes and finds them searching.

“You weren’t lying… you really hadn’t planned on killing me.”

You sound almost surprised as your grandma chuckles behind you, the noise like the clack of old stones against one another.

“I told you he was different,” the old witch says, slowly slicing a bit of pie and putting it on a plate.

“All men think they’re different,” you say, your voice resigned as you take the slice of pie and set it in front of Zoro, “Right, now eat — it’ll make you feel better. I’m sorry about that… just… you can never be sure.”

The old witch tuts, shaking her head, “A broken heart is it’s own kind of curse, you know.”

Zoro blearily takes a bite of cake and feels his senses returning to him one by one; he takes stock of them as if he’d forgotten entirely that he’d lost them in the first place. As he chews and swallows once, twice — by the third time he can feel the tightness in his muscles returning as panic and confusion flood his system.

He jerks up from the table and reaches for his sword.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” you say, though you sound hesitant as you hold up a hand, your expression earnest as you take half a step back.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he seethes, looking between you and the old witch, uncertain of who to aim his anger at.

“I had to be sure,” you say again, your voice imploring as you inch forward, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah well —” Zoro gulps past the dryness in his mouth as he narrows his eyes, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

You wince ever so slightly, looking away, “No, you’re right but… please,” you say again, and the word works like magic as it settles over Zoro’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s actual magic, but no — there’s no strange sweetness in the air, no thick fog threatening to cloud over his judgment.

“It might be quicker to show him,” the old witch suggests, still watching the pair of you with her one oil-black eye, sounding pleasant and entirely unfazed.

“Right… yes —” you sigh, motioning for the door, “The sty is just out behind the hut — you can go out first if you’d like,” you offer.

Zoro looks between you and the door before inching back and edging open the door with his foot, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you follow him with light, muted movements.

The air outside is crisp and cool and Zoro can’t help sucking in a breath as he steps out from the halo of the firelit hut. Grass crunches beneath his feet, birds sing overhead. There’s the lingering heat of magic still crackling in the air, but when his gaze falls back onto you, he finds you no less lovely than he’d done the first time.

“This way,” you say, rounding the edge of the hut and leading him towards a sizeable pigsty that he’d completely failed to notice the first time he’d been here as a young boy.

A looming sense of dread calcifies in the base of his stomach as he approaches the pigsty on heavy feet. The pigs all jostle against one another, snorting and snuffling with their noses pressed into the long feeding pen. From the pockets of your skirt, you produce a handful of bright red berries and toss it into the pen. Zoro watches with mixed fascination and mounting horror as the pigs tumble over each other to forage for the fruit in the dried hay and mud.

“Have you ever heard the saying that… there are some stories the world never stops telling?” your voice is quiet and sad as you reach over to skim your knuckles along the pale pink snout of a snorting pig.

And suddenly, Zoro understands — he doesn’t know if it was a trick of the light or perhaps the magic still working its way through his system but the understanding comes like a rainstorm, a few tiny droplets before the downpour. And were he a weaker man, he might’ve back and tried to make a run for it. But instead, he stands and stares with a strange pity welling up inside him at the lolling tongues and flopping ears.

“These were all men — hunters,” he says, his words slow at first, but picking up speed as he continues to speak, “Who tried to lure you into the wood to —”

“To kill me, yes, so that they could give the Queen my heart. Because you see, the heart of a witch would give her what she so desperately desires —”

“Eternal youth,” Zoro breathes.

“And the first time, I was heartbroken,” you turn away from him, pressing a hand to your heart, “But I managed to get away. And instead of going back empty-handed to face the Queen’s wrath, the hunter caught a wild boar in the forest and cut out its heart instead. Only — an old she-wolf had been hunting the boar for days, and was robbed of a meal. She and I… we came across each other and I was so — so hurt that I offered her my heart in return for putting me out of my misery.”

Zoro presses his lips as your words rush from you in a great wave, pieces of truths crystalizing before him even as they continue to shatter the world he thought he’d known.

“She told me then that… no man is worth dying for, especially not one who would lie to you just to steal your heart. And she offered to teach me —” you wave a hand at the pigsty, “And the rest…”

The soft silence that stretches between you is thin and pained. You cradle your hands to your chest as if trying to stem the hurt of some unspeakable heartbreak.

“And… the wine?” he asks.

Your face lifts and a strike of that familiar, mischievous light returns to your eyes as you grin.

“That was something I brewed up on my own — if the drinker bears me any ill intentions, then it’ll turn them into something a bit more… fitting of their true hearts. But if not then…” you grace him with a soft smile, “Then it’ll only ever just be wine, though a bit on the stronger side.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

A brief silence falls between the pair of you as the sky above begins to shift from blue to a soft lavender.

“You said… the first time,” Zoro says, curiosity now burgeoning from beneath the receding shock of the day, “Do you make a habit of luring men into the woods, then?”

You scoff, “Luring? Hardly. Magic can only do so much, and though the odd enchanted trinket will sell well at the monthly market, people still tend to be wary around witches.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Zoro says dryly, his eyes flickering toward the sty where the pigs, finally satisfied that there are no more berries to be found, have settled into the thick stacks of hay, grumbling and snorting.

You allow him a derisive smile, “Yes well — a girl and her grandmother still have to eat and bathe, and you can only stand so much apple pie before it starts to get a little old. So… I keep a job at the castle. Believe it or not, serving a self-obsessed Queen pays well. And all those… men —” you force out the word like spitting out poison, “Had seemed… good. At least at first.”

Zoro remains quiet as you pause, looking down at your own hands. It’s the first time he notices the light calluses that mar your palms, not so different from his own. He wonders at the smoothness of the handles on the wooden bucket you’d carried so easily through the woods, at how long it must’ve taken for a pair of hands like yours to wear them down so. The old witch’s words echo in his mind — a broken heart is it’s own kind of curse.

“Is that how you got so good at dancing?” he asks.

You grin, giving him a sidelong glance, “Perhaps.”

Zoro sighs, tilting his head back to look at the small patch of visible sky, now a deep, bruising purple.

“So. Now what?”

You echo his sigh, looking up as well, “You can go back, if you’d like.”

“And what? Tell the Queen that you got away?”

Your smile hardens ever so slightly, “Or, you could kill something else in the forest and offer her it’s heart instead.”

“But wouldn’t she know? After she ate it and doesn’t gain eternal youth?”

You shrug, looking away, “You’d be surprised what a person can trick themselves into believing, if they just try hard enough.”

Zoro nods, letting his eyes fall back down to his hand, resting idle against the hilt of his sword.

“Or, I could stay.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it — and perhaps it was the darkness of the forest, the close, flustered whisper of the leaves, or perhaps it was the lingering sweetness of your home-brewed wine and the tantalizing smell of magic and cinnamon still in the air. But he says it, and he finds that even the strange, still shocked moment after, he doesn’t regret it.

“You… you want to stay?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so uncertain before.

“Why not? I can’t go back and…” he motions at the hut and the soft ring of warm firelight seeping out from the tiny windows, “The wine’s not bad.”

And perhaps for the first time, Zoro thinks, he sees you smile — a smile that isn’t sharp and full of hidden teeth. A smile that’s helpless and hopeful and just a little bit pained. He smiles back and hopes —

“C’mon then… you can help with the fire. And carry the water.”

“Hn. But you seemed so good at it.”

You shoot him a slight pout as the pair of you duck back into the hut to the smell of roasting vegetables.

There are some stories the world can never stop telling, stories so old that the sing harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

Once upon a time, there was a wolf, a grandmother, and a girl in the woods. Once upon a time, an old witch built a house of gingerbread to lure in the lives of unheedful children. Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic mirror. Once upon a time, a witch lived alone in a secluded hut and lured men to her table only to turn them into the pigs they’d always been inside.

Once upon a time, a boy asked a girl to dance.

Once, a boy told the truth and the girl didn’t believe him, because all the boys who’d broken her heart before had given her no reason not to. And a heart can only be broken so many times before it, too, gets tired.

Once, she thought that broken hearts could never be mended.

But she should’ve known that stories, like the magic they hold, very rarely tell the truth. Or perhaps, they too only tell the truths that the listener wants to hear, or is ready to hear. Never more, never less.

So, here is another story — one that’s not so frequently told, but is just as true as the others —

Once, there was a boy who was born with a sword in his hand, who had never know that his body could hold so much music or laughter. Then, he met a girl with the most beautiful voice in all the land, and he, like so many before him, fell in love. Only, the girl had been hurt by all those before him, and no longer trusted the words of boys with sword-hilt smiles and rough, callused fingers. But when he asked her to dance, she agreed anyway, and when she introduced him to her grandmother and offered him wine, he did not hesitate. Instead, he asked if he could stay the night.

That was a long, long time ago.

There will always be another girl with a pretty voice and a viper’s smile at the castle beyond the woods, and always another young knight too eager to please his Queen. There will always be apples at the morning market and magic in the air. But perhaps the pieces don’t fall right where they ought to; perhaps they never did. Perhaps the stories we tell are only ever stories.

“You told me once that there were three ways to lift a curse,” Zoro asks one day, a wooden bucket in one hand, three swords strapped to his opposite hip.

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking up from the large pot of soup bubbling over the fire, a song threading beneath your breath as you sway back and forth.

Zoro grunts as he puts the bucket on the worn wooden table, walking over to slip an around your middle and hook his chin over your shoulder. You laugh as you let yourself be pulled back into his embrace.

“You only ever told me two.”

“Ah… right —” you smile, a smile that is no longer jagged but worn soft around the edges, as if all the sharpness has been smoothed over by years and years of tenderness, years and years of trust, of love.

“So?”

“So…” you place down the wooden spoon and turn to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders as his large, callused palms settle around your waist. The pair of you sway to a song that only the two of you can hear, a song that sings harmony to the very tuning of the universe.

“The third way to break a curse is the easiest… but also the hardest way, depending on who you are,” you say, smiling and swaying in Zoro’s arms. Like this, you can see the late afternoon light as it pours through the small window and catches on the dull gold of his triplet earrings.

“It’s a simple thing, really,” you say, as Zoro leans down to press his forehead to yours, your breaths dancing in the negative space between your bodies. Outside, an old witch sits on a rocking chair and admires the sunset. Occasionally, she reaches into her skirt pockets for a handful of berries to toss into the pigsty to her right.

“Oh yeah? How simple?” Zoro asks.

“Why…” you lean up on your tiptoes, your nose brushing his, your lips mere inches apart. Behind you, bottles and bottles of home-brewed wine sit along the mantle of the great stone fireplace, the color bright and true and freshly spilled blood.

“It’s as simple as a kiss from your one true love, of course.”

179 notes · View notes

margotw10bis · 1 month

Text

Pretty Baby.KNJ [m]

(former) sugardaddy!namjoon x (former) sugarbaby!reader

Genre: smut; short-story

Words: 3.5k

Synopsis: Namjoon is your sugar daddy. However, you can't deny how your heart is jumping in your chest when he calls you his "pretty baby"… But what happens after?

Warnings: angst; unprotected sex; oral sex ; Namjoon is huge 😳; he loves ass; use of "daddy"; pregnancy kink/breeding kink

1 → 2 → 3 (Bonus : Memories ; Doubts & Possibilities)

This part takes place after chapter 3.

This can't be happening. There is no way. You have been careful, very careful even. So why is the pregnancy test positive?

You don't know what to feel right now. You're panicked but also beyond happy to know that you have Namjoon's baby in your belly. However, panic takes the most of you. How will Namjoon react? Yes, you have known him for over a year now but it only has been four little months since you have confessed your feelings and started a 'real' relationship. Won't he think you're trying to cage him? It's way too soon to have a baby. Too soon in your relationship and too soon in your life.

You already imagined your future, and Namjoon was certainly a part of it — a huge part of it. You imagined that, someday, maybe in a few years, you'll get married and then, a few years later, you could have children together. You don't want a family with someone other than Namjoon but it wasn't supposed to be now.

You need time to think. You're way too overwhelmed right now. That's why you send a text to Namjoon, saying that you're too tired tonight and you prefer to stay in your apartment. Well, the apartment he has bought you. Fuck, if he doesn't want the baby, where are you going to live?

You spend the evening crying and caressing your belly in where a little human being already has all your love until you fall asleep.

————

"Are you serious?"

Seokjin looks at his friend with rounded eyes. He has known him for years and he has never thought that Namjoon would tell him that one day. He definitely has to take another sip of his whiskey. He doesn't even hear the lounge music of the bar.

"Yes, I don't want to wait any longer. I think it could be a great Christmas present"

"I'm happy for you, man" Seokjin starts with a wince "But don't you think she wants to wait?"

"What do you mean?" Namjoon frowns

"You're 36. You have been crazy, you have lived your youth. It's just normal you're ready to settle down" Ironic when Seokjin is older than Namjoon but absolutely not willing to settle down "But she is, what? 26?"

"25" Namjoon mumbles

"25! Just think about how you were at 25! Did you want to get married?" Seokjin asks

He is not wrong. When Namjoon was 25, all he could think about was fucking hot chicks. He would run away as fast as possible if a girl wanted to even have a date. But you're different than him, right? You don't want to fuck around and you won't run away when he asks you to marry him. Right?

"Look, I'm not saying that to hurt you but I just think you should wait a little longer. She could feel pressured" Seokjin adds as he pats his friend's shoulder

Namjoon sighs and decides that he would get drunk tonight.

————

A loud noise coming from the entrance wakes you up. You look at your phone: it's almost three am. You hear a deep growl and recognize Namjoon. You walk to him and witness a very drunk boyfriend of yours — soon to be your baby daddy. He almost can't stand on his feet and he is swinging dangerously as he is trying to take off his shoes.

"Namjoon?"

He lifts up his head and a bright — yet, drunkly lazy — smile paints his face. Your heart melts of how happy he seems to be.

"Baby!"

You quickly join him to prevent his big body from hitting the floor.

"Let me help you" You say before taking off his shoes

You tug him onto your side and lead him to the bed where he falls immediately.

"You seem to have had a great night" You tell him, caressing his blond hair

"Awful" He pouts

"How come?" You smile, amused of how young he looks

"You weren't there" He genuinely answers

Fuck, you love him so much. But a lump chocks your throat when you think that, maybe, he will reject you soon. You instinctively put your hand over your stomach. Thankfully, Namjoon is too drunk to notice it.

"You should take off your clothes and go to bed" Your voice is weak and broken

"You little hussy"

You roll your eyes and try to unbutton his shirt but it's not easy to do when Namjoon's hands find their way underneath your top. You start to panic a little when you feel his fingertips on your stomach, which it's ridiculous since your belly is completely flat. You stop his palms and push them away. You are not in the mood for sex. And Namjoon is way too drunk anyway. He is half sleeping by the time you finish undress him. You snuggle against him and try to forget everything else except him.

————

"Is something wrong?" Namjoon asks you with furrowed brows

"No" You lie

You try to give him a smile and hold your towel tighter against your body. You definitely knew he was going to notice something's off: you haven't had sex since you found out you were pregnant and confirmed it with an appointment with your doctor — you even had an ultrasound of your four weeks little bean during which you cried like a baby. That means nine days. You have never spent nine fucking days without sex if Namjoon wasn't gone for a business trip. Never. Especially since you've become an official couple. And more than that, you don't even let Namjoon touch you. Like right now, when he saw you naked in the bathroom and you quickly covered your bare frame with a soft and fluffy towel.

If you are doing that out of an irrational fear of Namjoon finding out the truth, in Namjoon's head, Seokjin's words start making sense. Maybe his friend was right and you just want to have fun. You're young. Maybe you don't want a serious relationship and you are planning of breaking up with him. The last days without sex might be your way of sending a message and letting him down slowly. It's so painful to imagine his life without you. It took him thirty-six years to find you and the year he has spent with you is not enough. A whole life wouldn't be enough.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N. Tell me what's wrong" Namjoon's voice is soft despite the whole earthquake of panic inside him — he is not ready to be brokenhearted

"I'm just tired, that's all" What a terrible liar are you

Namjoon's fists clench. Why don't you tell him? Don't you trust him? Or are you trying to push him away for good? The thought is so painful.

"I love you" He suddenly says

You look up at him in surprise. He just needs you to know that. No matter what happens. He loves you. Even if you're going to break his heart. Fuck, he is such a good man and your hormones are messing with you. You start crying so loud, big rounded tears rolling down your cheeks. Namjoon begins to panic, did he say something wrong? He hugs you tight and rubs your back which makes you cry louder.

"I'm so sorry" You sob in his chest

"What do you mean?" Namjoon asks with a white voice, his brain imagining all kinds of scenarios of you falling in love with another man

"I'm pregnant" You whisper with a broken voice

It's worse when you feel Namjoon's body tensing against yours. Did he hear well?

"You what?" He asks, gulping

"I'm pregnant" You repeat with difficulty

When you're about to convince yourself that you're going to end up all alone with a baby due to his painful silence, Namjoon surprises you by hugging you tighter.

"I love you so much, Y/N" His voice is shaky due to happy tears

Are you really going to make him a father? Sure, he wanted to have kids with you but not now. He just had his fantasy deep in the back of his head but it was like a distant dream. However, he couldn't be happier right now. You, the woman he loves more than anything, have his baby inside you.

He pulls away just to kiss you deeply. He looks into your eyes and he sees the relief in them. That's why you pushed him away lately, because you were afraid. If you knew how happy Namjoon is right now.

"I love you so fucking much" He repeats, making you smile

"I love you too" Your tears shift to happy and relieved ones

His reaction is better than anything you could have imagined. You wonder why you didn't trust him. Namjoon is a good man, he is the man you love. And now, you can't wait to have his baby.

He presses his forehead against yours but his euphoria takes control over his body. He unwraps the towel around you and looks at your stomach, still flat despite the fact you have his fucking baby in you. He didn't think he could love you more and then, he does. His hands caress your belly and then move to your ass. He moans at the feeling of finally being able to squeeze it after nine days.

"Now, I'm going to make love to you" He announces with a raspy voice that goes straight to your pussy

He lifts you up, making you gasp in surprise, and leads you to the bed. He lays you there delicately and starts kissing your neck. Your hands find his soft hair. You missed his touch so much. Shivers run through your body when Namjoon's lips travel down to your boobs. Your nipples are already erected and he rolls his tongue around it. His hand grabs your other tit, twisting and pinching your sensitive nipple. You moan and feel your pussy getting impossibly wet.

Namjoon creates a wet path with his kisses, going down. He stays more than usual on your belly to kiss and rub it. The gesture is so soft that you almost cry.

"I love you little one" He whispers "And I love your mom so much"

Your heart jumps in your chest. It's the first time you realize that you're going to be a mom. The fact that Namjoon calls you that creates all kinds of emotions inside you. You can't describe it but it's very intense.

Namjoon keeps going down and reaches your soaked pussy. He kisses your clit, making you open your mouth by pleasure. His expert tongue draws patterns that make you feel so good. Your back arches to feel him more. He takes big laps of your juices, moaning against your pussy of how good you taste. One of his hand takes a full grab of your ass while the other one teases your entrance. You clench at the emptiness but Namjoon still doesn't enter you.

"Please" You beg

Namjoon smirks and finally digs one finger into your wet pussy. The nine days without sex made your cunt tighter than usual. You groan loud when he quickly adds another finger. He is fingering you fast and deep, making sure to find your g-spot.

You whimper when Namjoon sucks on your clit harder. Pleasure is fogging your brain. You roll up your hips to meet his fingers and tongue better. You grab Namjoon's hair and basically rub your pussy against his face. Nine days without his touch were like torture and you can't wait any longer. You need him, you need all of him. And you moan when you know that you can have it.

"You love fucking my face, don't you baby?" Namjoon teases you

His words are so scandalous but you love it — both his words and fucking his face.

"I want to cum" You shout with a high pitch voice

"Do it, baby" Namjoon says while he presses deeper on your g-spot

"Right here!" You gasp

Namjoon knows you so well, he presses even more, digging his fingers deeper into your pussy. Your walls clench around his digits and his tongue is crazier on your clit. Fuck, he is good. Your toes curl and you bury his face deeper between your legs as you are reaching your high. Namjoon's name escapes your lips in a scream impossible to withhold. But you start shaking when Namjoon doesn't stop nor slow his moves. The overstimulation is too much to bear and you tug on his soft hair harder, making him growl. When spams run over your body and your legs try to close around his head, Namjoon stops his delightful torture.

"I missed you cumming" He tells you before reaching up to kiss you, giving you a taste of your juices

He gets rid of his clothes fast and you blush at his huge cock. Your hand moves by itself and you delicately wrap your fingers around his fat length. The velvet skin is so smooth and Namjoon seems to love your touch since he twitches in your fist. You slowly jerk him off and he closes his eyes in delight. Yeah, he missed having sex so bad.

You guide him to your entrance and Namjoon pushes his tip inside your pussy. You moan as you feel him filling you. He buries himself deep inside you. He kisses you as he is resting without moving a few seconds, knowing how much his cock is stretching you right now. He intertwines your fingers on both sides of your head and you wrap your legs around him to hug him tighter. His slow pace is so good, building up the tension inside your body. You feel him and all his moves into your pussy. He is so intense, yet so soft, his thumbs caressing the back of your hands.

"I guess you'll get to call me daddy again" He jokes but it actually makes you clench around his cock

"Fuck me harder, daddy" You moan, to tease him but also because you do love when he fucks you hard

Namjoon growls and lifts up to pound into you faster and deeper. His sensual pace is long gone and he just fucks you rough like you love. Your tits bounce at each dick stroke, attracting Namjoon. He can't help grabbing one of your boobs, pinching your nipple hard to make you whine and clench your pussy.

"My little baby mama" His words make your walls tighten and moan "Shit, you love this, don't you?" Namjoon says in a breathe, surprised and pleased

Fuck, why does it make you so horny? Your walls tighten and Namjoon loves how you react. Having his baby is making you clench around his big dick and he loves it. His eyes lock on your belly and he can't wait to see it big and round, full of his baby. He almost cums when he thinks about everyone knowing he fucked you so good that he put a baby in you.

He pounds deeper, making your skins clap in a sinful way. You caress his flexing abs with your fingertips and you still can't believe Namjoon is your man. He is so fucking handsome. He fucks you so good. You gesture him to kiss you and he does. Your lips connect in a messy way but you don't care as long as you can kiss him.

"I love you" You whisper

"I love you too, pretty baby"

You feel Namjoon's hand on your belly and your orgasm is close. Your moans get choked and your head roll back.

"You gonna make me cum" You say, making Namjoon pump rougher into your tight and dripping cunt

"Come on baby, cum on daddy's cock"

Your legs squeeze Namjoon's body and you pussy clenches, your orgasm very much on the edge. He gives you a last hard pound and you fall down into high.

"Fuck, Namjoon!" You scream when a huge wave of arousal washes over you, making you forget your name

Namjoon kisses your neck and shoulder, waiting for you to reach down to Earth. You lazily caress his sticky hair and hum in happiness. You are happy right now. Because of him, because of his love, of his touch. And also because of the little baby inside you.

Namjoon rolls over and places you on top of him. He slaps your ass to urge you to ride him. His huge cock is deep in you, immediately touching the right spot. You take support on his buff chest and start jumping on his dick. Little whimpers escape your lips as your head rolls back in pleasure. Namjoon looks at your perfect body: your jolting boobs, your soft belly, your thighs around his pelvis and your glistening pussy taking his cock so well.

His hands grabs your asscheeks to settle the pace. He makes you ride him rough, wet clapping sounds echoing the bedroom.

"Fuck" You moan

"You are so beautiful" He praises you and your heart melts "I can't believe you're having my baby"

You tenderly smile at him, slowing your pace so you can caress his cheek with one of your hand. Your tenderness is definitely one of the things Namjoon loves the most about you. He kisses your hand before you place it back on his chest.

"I can't believe you put a baby in me" You reply and you get the hint that Namjoon loves it since you feel his cock twitch in your cunt "You fucked me so good that I have your baby now"

You have never seen Namjoon so proud, happy and horny at the same time. He lifts up his torso so he can stay in a sit position. His hand grabs the back of your neck and he presses his lips on yours, claiming you.

"I'm going to put so many babies in you, Y/N. Everyone will see who fucks you" He growls and you clench

Fuck, his words are so crude yet so tempting.

"I can't wait to see your big belly full of my child"

Namjoon starts thumping into your cunt and you have to grab his shoulders to stay still under his rough moves. Your walls tighten again and you bring one of your hands down to rub your clit.

"That's it baby, make yourself cum" Namjoon spurs you

"Fuck me harder" You beg him

Namjoon delivers a harsh spank on your ass, making you clench as he pounds harder and deeper. At each rub of your fingers on your clit, your cunt gets tighter. You are so close, you can't even breathe evenly.

"I'm gonna cum, Joonie" You say breathlessly

"Go ahead"

Namjoon kisses you, swallowing your loud moans as you're cumming all over his cock. Your body shivers and Namjoon keeps his pace. You whimper when you feel how sensitive your pussy is after three orgasms but you want Namjoon to cum too. You roll your hips as he fucks you, spurring him to fill you up.

"Put another baby in me" You tease him

He hides his face in your neck and bites your skin gently. You don't know how much he loves it. He is close too, his unsteady moves making you know.

"My baby mama" He whispers with a last, harsh, deep dick stoke and throw his hot shots of cum inside your wet and messy pussy

Both breathless, you keep hugging each other tight. Tears fill your eyes again when you realize that Namjoon is by your side and that he loves you and the little human inside you.

"Hey, baby, don't cry" He soothes you as he kisses your nose

"I love you so much, Namjoon. And I was so stressed the last days" You confess, feeling finally lighter

"I love you too. Believe me when I say I'm so happy. The happiest man alive. You make me so happy. Actually..."

Namjoon delicately pulls out and makes you sit on the bed. He goes to his abandoned suit vest on the floor. He grabs a little thing you can't identify. He quickly goes back to you and gives you a little box. Your heart, your breathe and pretty much everything stops as you open it and discover a beautiful and shiny ring.

"I wanted to give it to you on Christmas but you've beat me at the best gift" He says, playfully but also emotional

"What does it mean?" You ask in a whisper, you don't want to misinterpret it because your heart won't survive it

"Marry me. Please?" Namjoon's voice is soft but a little shaky

"You can't ask me to marry you after sex!" You exclaim, crying of how happy you are

"You told me you loved me while I was fucking your ass" Namjoon replies with a pout

"Namjoon!" You gasp, still embarrassed by the memory

"Can you please give me a respond? Because I'm not sure I can handle the stress anymore"

"Yes!"

You jump at him, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. Everything you can. You laugh and cry at the same time and Namjoon is nothing better. He grabs your shaky hand with his shaky one and slided the diamond ring onto your finger.

"I love you so much, Namjoon" You say with emotion cracking your voice

"I love you, pretty babies"

@gimeow @whoreseok723 @wecanpretendit @missbangtangirl @dprmoon @baechugff @parkinglot-nights @nikkinik485 @hoseokteardrop

#bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #fanfic #knj smut #knj #knj x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjun #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #sugar daddy fanfic #sugar daddy namjoon #bts rm #rm #rm bts #bangtan rm

152 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

Text

Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #drabble #jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #series #au #brother's best friend #second chance

113 notes · View notes

cocomi · 18 days

Text

the pink bows you wore. . . (WIP)

a/n: this is a work in progress.. it's been a lil bit since i posted smt, and i can't really figure out an ending yet soooo lmk what u think.😭🙈

synopsis: after a fatal accident, the memories of your lover seemed to have faded.

cw: character-color-trope, angst/hurt w barely any comfort, fem reader, tighnari x readerrr, i've never written for him before so bare with me please🙏🏾

a/n pt2: TY TO MY MUTUALS WHO HELPED ME CHOOSE!! @mwahkazu & @sl-vega 🫶🏾

TIGHNARI had never been so distraught as he sat at your hospital-bed side. His ears were dropped, his eyes a little puffy and red, it seemed like he'd just finished crying for the nth time this week.

as you laid there, all he was left with was his thoughts, and the occasional beep of the heart monitor; which seemed to ease his worries a tiny bit. at least he knows you're alive.

if someone were to ask him what happened, all he could say was "an accident."

"an accident?" he'd say to no one in particular when the interaction was done, and he was once again alone.

more like tragedy, he thought, face palming himself. even though it had been a week, he could remember the incident like it was yesterday.

"'nari!!" you exclaimed, waving at him from the top of the akademiya stairs. you were visiting because of an event for former students, and you decided to bring him as you plus one.

he greeted you with his usual smile, waving right back at you.

as you ran down the stairs to greet him officially, all you could hear was a "watch out!" before you were falling.

falling. it was all you could register before the world went black.

he couldn't stop thinking about it. you falling, and him not being able to run fast enough to catch you.

the wounds on your head were fatal, was one of the only things he remembered from the doctor's report about your condition.

he couldn't help but blame himself for them, even though it was his fault.

if i was faster, maybe i could've caught her, he thinks, feeling like he was going to cry again.

he then sighed, shaking his head. he knows you wouldn't want him thinking like that but he can't help it.

you looked so pretty up there with your sun-dress and pink bows tangled in your hair and around your outfit.

your smile was bright like the sun, you looked so happy till it happened.

the bows nestled ever-so-gently in his hand were the only things that gave him an ounce of hope.

hope that you'd wake up, and that you'd forget this thing even happened.

and he'd happily place them back in your hair.

but it seems that fate had other plans for him.

you groaned, opening your eyes, and slowly blinking to adjust to the dim hospital light.

you felt a slight pain in your head as you lifted your head up to see something—or rather someone on your bed.

who is this?, you thought, and decided to speak up. you coughed to get his attention.

"um, who are you?" your voice was hoarse, and some parts of the sentence came out a bit higher in tone than you liked it.

when the stranger looked up at you, he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

to your dismay, he didn't answer you question, and immediately rushed out the room.

you sat there and blinked, until the door opened again, and a person who you presumed was a doctor, and the stranger walked in again.

in the course of a few minutes you were bombarded with questions from the doctor, which you tried to answer to the best of your ability.

the stranger seemed to know most of the answers better than you. like "what's your name," birthday, etc.

it didn't bother you that much though, since your were supposedly waking up from a coma, and you didn't really feel like going the extra mile to recall details.

when the doctor finally finished their verbal analysis, they left the two of you alone.

"[name]! i can't believe you're-!" you cut him off as he engulfed you into a hug.

"uh," you started, stiffening at the sudden contact.

"i don't think you heard me but, who are you?" you finally asked, pulling away from the hug.

"what.." his voice barely above a whisper.

remember this is a WIP,, so abrupt ending for now🙈

#!! [ ꕥ ] watatsumi island chronicles #wip #work in progress #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact tighnari #genshin x reader #angst #genshin #genshin angst

81 notes · View notes

ariundercovers · 2 months

Text

Traffic Jam (When Paths Cross Pt. VII, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3.5k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: A loaded question and some heated conversations.

Chapter Warnings: no porn only plot, ANGST, spanish nicknames, idiots in love, Chucho being a Dad to two idiots in love (the poor man omg).

A/N: I know this series is moving FAST but I'm so determined to actually finish this one that I'm writing quickly and just rolling with it! I hope the time gaps that are written in aren't too bothersome.

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (VI) HERE

You walk into work the next morning with a bright smile on your face, lost in the dreaminess that is Javier Peña. Your head is stuck in the clouds, still giddy from his admission to you last evening.

He loves you.

Javier Peña loves you.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this high. Sure, you’ve felt you were in love before, but it’s never been like this. Never this intense, sudden, unexpected. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

One of your coworkers notices your giddy mood and you end up gushing everything out to her, a stupid smile on your face when you tell her what he said about the necklace, and how he made you panic when he didn’t say “I love you” back right away. She smiles at you, tells you he sounds like a good man, and that she’s happy for you - happy to see you so excited and happy. She says love looks good on you.

And that’s how it goes for the next few weeks. It’s all love and butterflies and perfection and heart eyes and everything else gooey and good. But something keeps nagging at you - a question left unasked, unanswered. You need to know, and eventually, you can’t keep yourself from putting it out there.

When it happens, you’re at the mall of all places, looking for some jeans for Javi and a new suitcase for an upcoming work trip for you, given that you broke one of the wheels on your old one on the last trip. Eventually, you decide to take a rest with some overly sweet Chinese bourbon chicken in the food court. It’s pleasant and simple, but your mind can’t stop whirring, won’t stop thinking about all the possibilities, trying to piece together what your future might look like, what your future could look like.

It’s been long enough, right? You can ask. You can have an adult conversation.

You shared ‘I love you’s, for fuck’s sake. You can ask him this question.

You do your best to settle your nerves before speaking up, finishing up a bite of chicken before setting down your fork and looking up at Javi with a curious glance.

“What do you think about, when you think about the future?” Javi’s brow furrows as he regards you, head ticking to the side as he tries to wrap his mind around the question.

“What do you mean?”

You shrug slightly, thinking nothing of it. “I mean… the usual stuff, you know? Do you want to be in Laredo? Married? Kids? A House of your own? Still on the Ranch? That stuff.”

Javi blinks back at you for a long moment before he shakes his head and averts his eyes back down to where he’s picking at a pile of fried rice. “Yeah… I don’t think any of that is for me.”

You’re taken aback. That’s not the answer you were expecting, and not by a long shot. “Oh… I, uh… what part of it?”

He shakes his head again, looking up at you this time as he sets down his fork. The expression on his face is unreadable to you - like he’s suddenly a different person altogether. “All of it. I don’t… want that. Any of that.”

The two of you are completely silent for a long, long moment. You’re not sure how to phrase the miserable thought and emotion that’s bubbling up inside of you, but you eventually manage to put a few words to at least part of it.

“Does that mean you don’t want me, either?”

Javi looks taken aback as he answers, “No, that’s not what I said.”

“But… if you don’t want to get married, or kids, or a house, or any of it… ever, what’s the point of this? What are we doing?”

He grunts, frustrated as he reaches up to pinch at his brow with his finger tips. “Isn’t this enough?”

You sigh, shrugging. You’re not sure how to answer him. “I mean… for now, but…”

“But what?” He cuts you off before you can even finish the thought. You’re taken aback, again, and you lean forward as you try to muster up a coherent response.

“I’m not a child anymore, Javi. I want to be thinking about the future, I don’t want to keep wasting time with people and situations that don’t want anything to do with me in the long run. You really don’t ever want to get married? Or any of it? Nothing?” He sighs and rolls his eyes at you a little bit, the frustration in his face wildly apparent.

“No. I really don’t.”

It’s hard not to have a horrible expression glued to your face. This is not how you expected this conversation to go. In fact, it’s quite possibly the furthest thing from it.

“Ever?”

Javi slams his hand down on the table, and you’re taken aback by the frustration and power he puts into it. He’s never lashed out at you like this before, and you’re just not sure what to make of it. It startles you at best, maybe scares or frightens you at worst.

“No. Never. Can we move on, now?” You try to blink back the fear and frustration you’re feeling, because you know if you dwell on it much longer, you’ll end up crying. You can feel it brimming quickly behind your eyes.

“O-okay.”

You finish your meals in a terse silence that feels very uncomfortable and out of place for the two of you. You’ve never had this tense of a moment between you before, and you’re not sure how to get out of it. Eventually, you wait long enough without speaking that you just settle back into a relative normal as you’re shopping through the mall, looking for the right style and brand of jeans Javi wants.

It’s stuck in the back of your mind the entire time, however, so much so that you can barely focus on the questions Javi is asking you. You’re so fixated that you walk past several stores with luggage in the front window without even registering it, and Javi has to keep pulling you back to go in and look. Eventually, you give up.

“Javi, can we go home? Maybe we can look another day.” He looks at you quizzically, confused.

“Are you alright, muñeca?”

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling it. I’d like to go home.” He nods and takes your hand, turning around to head back to the exit where he parked the car. Nerves are bubbling up inside of you in a way that you haven’t felt since your final interview for the job at the arts center. Few things have made you freak out this badly, but you just can’t help repeating it in your brain, over and over again.

I don’t… want that. Any of that.

He didn’t want you long-term, either, that much was clear to you. You wondered what he was doing in all of this if he had no plans for longevity. Why keep leading you along like this? Why get you so attached that it’ll just hurt worse the longer he waits to end things? The feelings quickly turn to panic, and turn the contents of your stomach rancid.

You felt hopeless.

Javi leads you to the car, closing the door for you before getting into the driver’s seat and heading out, driving off in the direction of the ranch. The usually lovely winding roads that lead you back to the Peña farm house make you feel sickly and near-ill the entire ride there. It takes everything in you not to vomit in Javi’s passenger seat, holding it in as best as you can until he finally parks in front of the ranch. You hurry inside, past Chucho laid up in his recliner chair in the living room and lock yourself in the bathroom down the hall. You lean over the sink, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. After a few minutes of steady breathing, your stomach settles, and you look in the mirror to be confronted by red-rimmed eyes. You might as well have been crying the entire ride back to the house with how awful you looked.

You turn on the tap and splash some cold water on your face, the chill helping you feel a bit more settled and present in the moment than you had been. You’re still unnerved, your stomach unsettled, but you feel more like a human than you did on the road, certainly. It hits you suddenly that you’re going to need to bring this back up with Javi again to get some clarity. You wouldn’t be able to sleep or hardly even think without it.

Strolling back into Javi’s room, you find him pulling his new jeans out of the bag and removing the tags before tossing them in his hamper to wash. He turns to you with a half smile and a tilt of his head.

“Cariño. You feeling alright?” You nod somberly and have a seat at the end of his bed, waiting for him to finish. He wraps you up in his arms, pulling you down into the bed so he can tuck you in properly. “A nap, perhaps?”

You nod, curling into his arms with relative ease as he strokes your shoulder gently.

It’s keeping you wide awake, so you turn in his arms and look up at his face, sighing as you realize how awful this conversation might be.

“Javi?”

He doesn’t respond at first and you worry he might be asleep already. Eventually, he groans and asks, “What is it, muñeca?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath before you continue. “Javi… can you please talk to me about this no marriage and no kids thing?”

You can feel his body go rigid beneath the sheets - soft arms turn to violent blades wrapped around you as he stiffens. “What is there to talk about? I don’t want it.”

“What if I do? Can’t we just talk about it?” You roll onto your back, hoping a little bit of distance might help the tension you’re feeling between you. He turns and looks at you seriously, blinking a few times before he sighs and drops his head.

“I guess… you’ll just have to figure out how to deal with that disappointment.”

You scoff, his words grating at you. “What? Disappointment? We can’t even have a discussion about it? About the possibility, even?”

He shakes his head, looking back at you for a moment before he responds. “I don’t want it, cariño. I’m sorry.”

You huff, sitting up in the bed and crossing your arms over your chest. The anger inside of you is threatening to bubble up and lash out, so you do your best to temper it before you speak. The last thing you need to do is make all of this worse than it already is. But, the anger is bubbling up too quickly to be able to temper yourself fully. Your words still come out like a knife, sharp and targeted in a way that you’ve never spoken to him before. “So that means you get to make universal decisions for us now, too, huh?”

He’s taken aback as he sits up, as well, looking at you with a confused scowl. “What?”

You inch away from him, eyes boring holes into his skill. “I thought this was supposed to be a partnership.”

“What? Why are you getting like this? Things have been easy, good. I don’t know why you have to complicate it with this.” He shifts, reaching toward you, but you shirk away, his words seeding themselves deeply into your chest.

“Complicate? Is that what I am? A complication? Fuck. That’s not… that’s not what I’m in this for, Javier. I want to be more than a good fuck. I deserve to be more than that.”

“Cariño, that’s not what I said-”

You don’t let him finish his thought before you’re lashing out again. “Isn’t it? You’re not interested in anything more than what we have right now. And what we have right now is a lot of sex and casual conversations. We might as well be friends with benefits if that’s all you want out of this.”

He glares at you, frustrated, and shakes his head before standing up and pacing the room, from door to headboard, back and forth. “That’s… No, fuck. What the hell? You don’t know anything. You don’t fucking know anything.”

“And why is that? Because you won’t talk to me, Javier.”

He throws his hands up in frustration, his voice elevating as he responds. “It’s my business. I’m entitled to not talk about it if I don’t want to.”

You shake your head in disbelief at his obstinance and sigh. This wasn’t going anywhere. Shifting in the bed, you swing your legs over the side of it and stand, looking back at him briefly to respond. “Sure. Whatever. Screw this, Javi. I’m going home.”

Home.

There’s that stupid word again. You were starting to feel like it was more here, more with Javi and with Chucho, than it was anywhere else.

You suppose you were wrong.

Javi’s voice shifts as he starts to plead with you, “Wait, cariño, hold on-”

His begging falls on deaf ears as you collect your things from around the room and head out as quickly as you can, slamming his bedroom door behind you as you rush out, flustered. By the time you get to the front door, you remember you don’t even have your car. Javi drove you here earlier this afternoon. You pause, hand hovering over the doorknob, and you hear someone clearing their throat behind you.

Fuck. Chucho.

You turn around to see him sitting up in the recliner, head tilted to the side as he regards you. His rough voice soothes you after the piercing tones of Javi’s frustration.

“Heading out, mija?” You sigh, visibly deflating at the kind and caring tone he always offers you.

“I was going to, but-”

He cuts you off so you don’t even need to say it yourself. “You need a ride?” As you nod in response, he starts to stand, slowly, knees creaking as he rises. “Come on. I’ll take you.”

You’re grateful beyond belief that he doesn’t push further, doesn’t ask why Javi isn’t out in the living room, or why you need a ride from someone not his son. He just gets up and silently throws on his boots, grabbing his keys from a hook behind the door as he pushes outside, holding the door for you. You climb into the passenger seat of his pickup truck, fastening your seatbelt as he starts it up and pulls around the driveway, heading back onto those same winding roads you had come to love.

A few minutes into the drive, he clears his throat, his wide-brimmed hat tipping in your direction. “I’m not going to ask you if you want to talk about it, because I’m sure you don’t. But I have a few things I’d like to say, if that’s okay.” You turn toward him, eyes trained on the side of his face as he clears his throat again, reaching down to take a sip of the water bottle sitting in the cupholder between you two.

You nod with a small, under-your-breath ‘okay’, and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to begin.

“First, I hope he hasn’t scared you away from me and from the house. I’d be lost if you stopped coming by.” You shake your head vehemently, floored by the suggestion.

“No, never, Chucho. Nothing’s gonna keep me away. I’ll figure out how to deal with this.”

He nods somberly, fingers tapping on the large steering wheel. “Good. That’s good. Now… in the case of my son, I know he can be a lot for many reasons. He’s quite the stupid boy when he wants to be. But he’s been through the wringer since he was young. There’s a lot I’m sure he hasn’t told you, and it’s not my place to say, but just know that he comes to you with a lot of baggage. He’s misguided sometimes, and I can only set him so far in the right direction. He’s been lost for a long time.”

You blink back at him, not shocked by the news nearly as much as you think you should be. It makes sense, given his reaction to you today, and especially given the horrible things that came out of his mouth. They didn’t feel like your Javier.

“Now I know that I’m an old man, and it’s been a long time since I fell in love, but I can see when two people are right for each other. You two… you are right for each other. You’re good together, and you make each other better. I’ve seen it firsthand, especially these last few weeks. Javi is much more pleasant to be around these days.”

You smile at the compliment and lean over to squeeze his shoulder lightly in gratitude.

“Just… give him a chance. Please. I know he can be good for you, too, if he can just get his act together.”

You nod and sigh, shoulders dropping as you take in his words. “I want to. I want to so badly. But I’m afraid that I’m scaring him away, Chucho. I’m not what he wants… he doesn’t want someone this serious, this willing to move things along.”

“Ask him about it, mija. Make him talk to you. There’s so much there. You can help him, I know it. You’re only the second woman he’s ever brought home.” You’re shocked by that admission, to say the least. It was easy to tell that Javi was more into flings than serious relationships given his highly flirtatious personality, but in almost 40 years… only one other person? It surprises you, makes you start trying to rethink the experiences you’ve had with him so far, rethink every comment and frustration. You’re vaguely curious who that other person was, what happened with them.

“I’ll try, Chucho. He just makes it so difficult, sometimes.”

“I know. Believe me, I know he does. But he loves you - I can see it in the way his eyes light up when you arrive, and in the way he pines over you when you’re away. And you do, too. That’s something real - when you have it, don’t let it go. Fight for it. You’re lucky if you find something like that even once in your life.”

Is it really that obvious to Chucho?

You’re more than shocked - you’re amazed by the suggestion. Here you’ve been thinking the whole thing has been one-sided, all stuck on you and your overly ambitious heart.

“Then why does he make it so hard for me to be able to love him back? The right way? Why does he have to make it so difficult?”

Chucho sighs and shrugs, glancing over at you briefly. “That’s Javi’s story to tell, mija, but he’s a fool if he’s trying to write you off completely.”

You thump your head back against the bench seat, arms crossing over your chest. “I just don’t know how to make him see me. See any of this. It’s like he has blinders on or something.”

Chucho nods along and answers, “he does, mija. Installed by a host of events that I can’t disclose on his behalf. But he does have blinders on, absolutely. He’s not seeing straight, not thinking clearly. He’s running on fear and anxiety if anything.”

You’re shocked by that suggestion. “Fear? He’s afraid of me?”

“No, mija. He’s afraid of putting himself out there.” He pulls onto your street, finding a place to pull over next to the sidewalk in front of your apartment and putting the truck in park.

“I don’t think he’s going to listen to me, Chucho. He’s dead set on destroying things all on his own.” He sighs, turning and placing a hand gently on your thigh.

“Just give him a chance, mija. Please. I’m begging you. If anyone can do it, it’s you. Just give him another chance.” You nod back at him and offer him an uneasy smile.

“I will. If he’ll let me. I don’t know if he’s going to let me, though, Chucho.”

He looks at you very seriously at first, but then the serious look morphs quickly into a smirk. He winks at you. “Trust me on this one, if you can.”

You chuckle nervously but smile and respond before getting out of the car and heading up the stairs, back to your lonely apartment.

“Alright. I will.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A/N: And here be the angst. I promise it doesn't linger for too long, but Javi's been through too much to just have things go easy the entire time! These two still have lots ahead of them!

Let me know what you think! Your interactions and comments and criticisms and all of it are so so so very appreciated!

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

NEXT PART (VIII) HERE

#writing #javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #no beta we die like men

47 notes · View notes

disappointmentthemusical · 13 days

Text

Draco is a racist in the most literal sense. (Well, former – reformed? – racist, that is. He wouldn't identify as one anymore.)

But he'd nonetheless been a racist – literally. He'd subscribed to the Pureblood notion that Wixen and Man are two separate creatures, made distinct by the inherent magic to one and the lack thereof in the other, which made the latter inferior. It'd taken no less than a week of critical thought to rid himself of the philosophy.

Indeed, his stint in Azkaban between his arrest and trial had been rather enlightening. It'd given him the perfect amount of time to grapple with himself, his identity, and the very fiber of the world as he knew it.

In preparation for his hearing, he attempted to shift the blame for his racism from himself. He'd been a child after all. A child very susceptible to the whims and fancies of his parents, as many children are. So, really, it's his parents' faults for impressing upon him their obsession with blood purity, and no one could fault him – sweet, innocent, young Draco – for taking up family business of slur-hurling and the mild torture of innocents.

Yes, he'd be a free man, for sure.

But then he'd unfortunately remembered that his parents had once been children, too. And at what point did the blame shift from them to their own parents, and then the generation before them?

At what point did Draco become responsible for his actions? Was it between second and third year, the transition into teenager-hood? Or was it when he got the mark? Could he blame his parents – his mother who'd begged him not to – for that decision?

What about the cabinet?

What about Dumbledore?

He'd stared at his cell wall for hours, wracking his mind for an answer other than the one he had. None came.

The day of his trial, he resigned himself to a guilty sentence.

But then, of course, Harry Potter had to muck everything up, as he always did – does. Within hours, Draco was not returning to his cell, but standing in front of the Ministry with all of his worldly possessions cradled between his arms.

Well, then.

The next five years were rather boring, full of strife and struggle. He knew poverty for the first time in his life, an experience he never wished to repeat, and despite the horror that was ages 15 through 18, he learned that it had not been rock bottom.

No, rock bottom was much, much worse.

On the bright side, his Wizard upbringing had been good for a few things. For one, his complete ignorance of the concept of sexuality meant that his open homosexuality made him "cutting edge" and "interesting." Secondly, his impeccable aesthetic taste made him hireable.

At 25, he's the most popular stylist at a bougie London salon, and he's made quite the name for himself among the rich housewives of South Kensington. Gone were the days of dumpster diving and petty theft.

Draco Malfoy is, once again, a god among mortals.

And like any god, he is a master of keeping up a facade, which is why he's able to not visibly react when the last person on Earth he wants to see walks through the salon doors.

Harry sodding Potter.

Draco should have anticipated this. Of course, Potter would show up the moment Draco's life was going well – the prick was justice incarnate. He must have a sixth sense for undeserving people experiencing happiness, and like a good hero, he sweeps in to strip the perpetrator of the feeling.

Draco refocuses on the appointment he's in the middle of, thinking invisible thoughts in hopes that it would prevent Potter from spotting him.

As anyone could've predicted, it doesn't work.

"Draco?"

He spares half a glance toward Potter, who stands only a few feet away now, having bypassed the front desk girl. He looks back to the foil in front of him, checking the color.

"Potter."

"What are you doing here?"

He pauses, gives Potter a flat look, and then continues working.

"Oh," Potter says dumbly, "right. But, I mean, um, what are you doing here, like, in, um, this side of London."

It's a lame and fumbled attempt to ask why Draco was in Muggle London, in a Muggle salon, doing a Muggle's hair, and Draco latches on to the opportunity to turn the conversation around.

"What – you think I don't deserve to be here?"

Potter's brow furrows in that familiar way that says he understands that he's just dug himself into a hole, but he hasn't a clue how to un-dig it.

"No," he denies too aggressively. "You know what I mean. I just didn't expect you to work at a place like this."

He winces at his words, and Draco doesn't bother hiding his triumphant smile.

"I'll have you know," Draco's client, a middle aged woman named Siobhan who has that eccentric look that only works on the uber rich, says with a pointed finger at Potter, "that Draco is a very talented young man, and we here are lucky to have his skill. I'm not sure how you two know each other, but I won't stand to have Draco's talents diminished in my presence."

Potter's face turns bright red, and his shoulders shoot up to his ears. "No– I, I– I wasn't trying to–"

"It's all right, dear," Draco says to Siobhan with a hand on her shoulder. "This just shows how far I've come, the success that I've achieved; I won't let others' prejudice stop me."

"Prejudice?!" Ah, there's the outrage that Draco coveted so much when he was younger. It remains unfairly amusing.

Biting back a smirk, he gives Potter a stern look. "If you'll excuse us."

He doesn't wait to for Potter to leave to guide Siobhan to the back wall where the sinks are. Behind him, he can hear Potter awkwardly shuffle out of the salon, and the tin bell above the door announces his departure.

Draco asks one of his coworkers to take over while he has a quick smoke break. Once outside, he allows himself exactly three minutes to panic before straightening his shirt, wiping his tears and heading back inside with his head held high.

If he knows Potter as well as he thinks he does, this won't be the last time they meet. Potter's horribly stubborn like that. So all Draco can do is prepare and hope that the next time Potter shows up, it'll satisfy whatever morbid curiosity he has.

And maybe next time, Draco won't notice how handsome he is.

#harry potter #drarry #harco #drabble #fuck jkr don't support that bitch

39 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 9 months

Note

Okay hear me out. What if the darling is like the goddess of fate, luck and constalations and she is close to other gods but most especially other celestial gods (yes, even apollo) so what if she decided that when buddha announced that he would fight for humanity, she got up, people thought that she is angry that one of her close friends decieded to abandon her but instead walk until she reach the human side, shocking everybody.

What are the characters reaction that she just basically on the human's side (lmao I bet during the voting stage both her and buddha didn't attend the voting due to the fact that he is a former human and she is busy since she is the goddess of many things. They would for sure vote no lol)

-You were known by many titles, Goddess of Luck, Fate, Constellations, Celestial Figures, Sun, Moon, Stars, and many more, making you not only a very busy goddess, but a very powerful one as well, but most knew you simply as Y/N.

-Since you oversaw so many different things, it made it a little hard for personal time for you, so you couldn’t go to parties like others could or attend the ‘mandatory’ meetings of the gods.

-You had friends, mainly other gods and goddesses who oversaw the things you also oversaw, like Apollo, Artemis, and the Seven Lucky Gods, as you were gentle and sweet to all you met, even crass beings like Ebisu or flirty beings like Apollo, something they all respected you for.

-Many knew not to cross you- as you wouldn’t hesitate to put anyone in their place, even Zeus, and you would do so with a bright smile on your face, which was honestly more intimidating than if you were just glaring at and scolding them.

-When you heard about Ragnarok, from Apollo of all people as he was bragging about how easily he was going to win his fight, you were absolutely furious.

-You hadn’t attended that meeting, due to your busy schedule, but had you been there, you would have fought for humanity, as you loved humans- they were hard working and never seemed to stop learning and growing.

-Seeing you in attendance made many of the gods worry, mostly in fear, as you weren’t hiding your anger or displeasure at this, as you had been telling Zeus and the other gods that, as gods, you all should have done more to manage and guide humanity, because it wouldn’t have gotten to this point, and now they were just trying to take the easy way out of wiping humanity out rather than dealing with the problem they created, refusing to acknowledge or manage them.

-When Buddha announced his desire to fight for humanity, you smiled, standing and many gods were quick to dive out of your way, thinking you were going to deliver divine punishment to this traitor.

-Buddha grinned up at you as you walked down to the edge of the arena before hopping to the ledge and walked along it to the side of humanity, where many were quick to make room for you, seeing such a beautiful goddess coming.

-Buddha roared with laughter as you took a seat alongside the humans, a smile on your lips as many of the gods shouted their outrage at you now.

-Your eyes lifted to meet many of their own, making their complaints die easily before you looked up at Zeus, who flinched, panicking lightly as you spoke, your voice carrying around the arena, “I’ve been telling you all for years to be the gods you claim to be and manage and guide humanity- but obviously you’ve ignored that and now you want to take the easy way out. I fully support your decision, Buddha.”

-He sent you a wink, flirting up at you, “Thanks for the pep-talk gorgeous.” Buddha grinned more as many of the other gods began to scream at him, furious that he was flirting with you, while you had just smiled, thinking it was amusing.

-While you couldn’t interfere directly with humanity, you silently prayed that humanity would win, earning their salvation and earning the respect of the gods, who, hopefully, would finally listen to you and do what they needed to do as gods.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror buddha

141 notes · View notes

shootingstarpilot · 3 months

Note

WIP Game, Mimic Lives AU? I admit I'm very intrigued by it

Mimic, my DARLING. Copying some of a former ask to provide context:

So this is an AU where 99 managed to sabotage some decommissionings. Not a lot. Not all of them. But some. And if there is anyone who knows the absolute ins and outs of Tipoca City, knows the lines of sight of every security camera, knows the loose vent covers and the concealed nooks and crannies, it is 99- who only escaped decommissioning himself because he made himself useful, and the practice had not been quite so stringently encoded into standard operating protocols yet.

So. The rescued live their lives in the lower levels of Tipoca City, in the nooks and pipes and vents, small and shadowed and silent. 99 brings food and stories when he can, of what goes on outside.

Mimic is robbed of his words and his brothers. 99 is kind but he is very busy, he has no time to give Mimic words to use. But there is one name that Mimic knows how to say, always and always and always--

"Helix?" he asks 99, every time he comes down. "Helix? Helix?"

And 99 tells him of the fearsome CMO of the 212th Attack Battalion, who serves under the legendary General Kenobi. Tells him of Geonosis and Felucia and Laviod and every other battle that Helix has survived and dragged other brothers through with him, and Mimic carves every story deep into his memory and waits to hear of the next thing that Helix survives, and the next thing, and the next thing.

Fast forward. The CRA passes. Finally, finally, the Kaminoans are to be held to account. The Jedi and the troopers get to storm Tipoca City, get to assert full control--

And long-dead brothers begin to emerge from the bowels of Tipoca City, blinking in the sunlight.

Mace and Helix are standing together when it happens. There is so much to coordinate, so much to ensure, so many to keep safe-- but this, this is the best kind of work, justice in its truest form, and the future is bright and sharp but for once it's not them on the other end of the blade, for once they get to wield it--

Mace registers it first.

A new presence, largely unfamiliar, and, well, that on its own wouldn't be surprising, he hardly claims to know everyone--

Except this particular signature, unfurling like a sunflower, is shrieking HelixHelixHelixHelixHELIX in the Force so loudly it's almost dizzying.

He looks up. Behind Helix, who's scowling as he scrolls through his datapad, muttering something about having to up the guards on the long-necks' cells, 99 emerges from a side entrance, holding the hand of another brother.

"Helix," Mace says slowly, "I think someone's looking for you."

99 points towards them, saying something, and a blinding smile blooms across the other clone's face, and he drops 99's hand and breaks into a run--

"Oh, sure," Helix says, grinning wryly, "what else is new? Who else is grievously injured--?"

"HELIX!"

Helix drops the datapad.

He doesn't turn around.

Mimic trips over himself, stumbles, slows-

(He doesn't turn around. He bends down, picks up the datapad-)

Is he-

Is he still angry?

He drops his arms very suddenly.

Maybe-

He had screamed, after all.

Screamed and screamed and screamed and broken all the rules.

"Helix?"

Quieter, this time. No more screaming.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. So sorry-

Yes. Yes. He remembers the rules, and the rules work because Helix turns and sees him and Mimic rocks from foot to foot and back again and waits waits waits because there is a pattern to these things that he hasn't forgotten for years and years and years, all the rules to keep them safe, first is empty hands-

(The datapad drops from nerveless fingers-)

Then the open arms-

(And Helix will never turn away again, not even for a ghost-)

And then Mimic hurls himself forward, because he doesn't have a lot of his own words but he thinks there could never be enough for how much he's missed Helix and his hugs and Helix catches him, catches him like he had a thousand times before, and they're both bigger now but he still fits just right and Mimic loves loves loves him, and the words won't come but that's not new so he just hugs him, tight as he can, and says-not-screams Helix Helix Helix-

And the world goes right again when Helix hugs him back.

#shoulder the sky #oh mimic my darling #i just think him and helix deserve to hug okay

41 notes · View notes

thebluestbluewords · 16 days

Text

An offer she couldn’t refuse…

I don’t know what’s going on with the new Rise of Red trailer, and at this point I’m too afraid to ask. I’m not too afraid to speculate though!!

Uma grinds her boots on the carpet as she walks into Mal's office. It's not muddy enough for her to track much in, but she's still got old blood on her heels, and bloodstains never really come out.

It's petty. Evil knows it's petty, but after all this time, Uma's pretty sure she deserves a little petty when it comes to the new queen. She's not the one with the ostentatious royal sign on her door, and she's certainly not the one putting kingdom business on hold so she can host the fluffy, stupid wedding of her dreams.

Not that they're here to talk about that.

"Princess."

Mal spins around. "Uma."

Uma steps closer. There's a desk in between them, but that's not a problem. The little queen is short, just like her wicked mother, and Uma's got practice looming over people taller than her. With Mal's fairy stature, it's not trouble at all for Uma to lift her chin and glare down her former archnemesis. In fact, it's a pleasure.

Mal drops her gaze first. Hah.

"Thanks for coming," she says, dropping into her fancy fucking desk chair. "I appreciate it. I know you're busy, what with the pirating and all. It means a lot that you came."

Uma drops into the other chair that somebody has so conveniently placed on the visitor's side of the desk. "Cut the shit, princess. You called me here for a reason, and I'm here because I want to know what it is. No more, no less."

Mal's eyes flicker back up to meet her own. They're bright green. Magical bright green.

Well, shit.

"I have an offer for you," the Queen of Auradon says slowly. "Which I think you're uniquely qualified for. You can turn it down if you want, but I'm asking you to hear me out first. Fair?"

Uma lifts a finger up to tap her mother's necklace where it sits hot against her collarbone. The problem with magical items is that you can't always turn them off. It's not that she wants to take advantage of her mother's ocean magic and use the locket to steal whatever spell Mal's got sitting behind her eyes, but sometimes the magic just slips out, and she ends up absorbing spells that weren't intended for her.

Sometimes they're even useful.

"Life ain't fair, princess," Uma drawls. "But sure, I'll hear you out. What'd you got for me?"

"Headmaster. Of Auradon Prep."

"No."

Mal's eyes flash. "Hear me out, Uma."

"No way. A school full of royals is never gonna listen to a pirate from the Isle of the Lost. You might as well ask an orge to be headmaster."

"Good to know you consider yourself on the same level as ogres," Mal snaps. "But you said you'd listen to me. I need someone from the Isle to serve as acting headmistress while Fairy Godmother is on sabbatical, and I want it to be you."

Uma swings a foot up to grind her boot heel on the chair too. "Why me? Why not Princess Blueberry, or your precious Freddie Facilier?"

"Freddie's busy. Evie's not available. And they're not the leaders of a pirate crew. They don't have your experience with managing idiots.”

"If you only brought me here to insult my crew, I can leave." Uma offers, jerking a finger over her shoulder towards the door.

She takes a special satisfaction in making the queen of Auradon grind her teeth. Sure, her ex-girlfriend can just grow her magical dragon teeth out bigger and better than before, but Uma's got to make her use those magic powers. No easy roads out for the princess who grabbed freedom with both hands and left the rest of them behind.

"Please," Mal grits out. "Uma. I wouldn't be asking you if I had anyone else that I thought could do it, you know this. Auradon Prep is--"

She cuts herself off.

Fascinating.

"Auradon Prep is what?"

"It's-- look, I can't give you the details unless you want the job."

Oh, she wants the job.

"I can't accept the job," Uma says carefully, letting each word slip out like a pearl from her mother's oysters, "Until I know what it entails. I have a whole crew relying on me, and I can't just abandon them for just any old headmaster role. I need to know it'll be worth my while."

The office door clicks shut.

Uma leans back in her chair as Mal's eyes glow green, greener, and slip closed.

"Swear that you won't speak of this to anybody outside this room," Mal intones in a voice that is both hers and not her own. "Swear on the ocean."

Uma scoffs. "I'm not swearing anything. I tell my left hand man everything that I know. It's why we work. Honesty, princess, ever heard of it?"

Mal's eyes crack open. They're glowing scary green, like the bioluminescent algae that Uma pulls up from the sea floor sometimes when she's bored with waiting for the Southern Isles' trade ships to appear. Sort of a freaky color if you're not ready for it. "You can tell Harry. But that's it, and if he tells anybody else, I get to send my crows after him."

"Deal."

Her eyes slip shut again. That voice, the creepy double-edged rasp of magic, creaks out of her throat. "Then swear it, daughter of Ursula. Swear that what you hear today will not leave this room, except to confer with your second in command."

Aw, hell.

"I swear." Uma says, mostly just to get her to shut up. "Swear it on my mother's watery grave."

"It is done," Mal intones. "Remember your promise, daughter of the sea."

Uma rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Give me the deets, Mal."

Her ex's head flops forward. The light cuts out abruptly from her eyes. It's creepy, but they were born and raised in creep central, so it's not like Uma's freaked out by the frankly gratuitous display of magic bullshittery.

Her head snaps back up before Uma can think to poke her with one of her knives. "There's a time distortion."

#my fic #descendants #descendants: blasphemy edition #rise of red #for those of you who are blacklisting the tag #I’m just SO fascinated by the original concepts we were teased with the whole time travel business #and yea sure I’ve been reading a lot of SW fic with jedi fucking with the time stream #but descendants deserves some time fuckery. As a treat #mal bertha #uma triskelion

21 notes · View notes

mybrokenveins3000 · 8 months

Note

Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

85 notes · View notes

dwonfilm · 1 month

Text

Cowboy take me away. | Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: Beau, [Y/N], Cassie and Jenny enjoy a night out together at a karaoke bar. Inspired by the song ‘Cowboy Take Away’ by The Chicks.

Warnings: none, purely fluff.

If she’d have told her younger self that as an adult she’d be living in Montana, she’d have laughed in your face. She was born and bred a city girl and that’s how it had stayed. Until about a year ago when she’d had a pretty rough time at work—enough to give her two week notice at that. What made her settle on Montana? Honestly, the distance. She just wanted to put as much distance between herself and her former life that she decided, maybe it was time to take a break from city living. She’d had a love for older country music and maybe she could be that girl in the songs she always sang as a child and on karaoke nights.

Speaking of karaoke nights, that’s exactly where she was right now. Cassie Dewell and Jenny Hoyt, two of her best friends, sat at the table as they smiled and laughed with her—you’d met Cassie first while applying for jobs in town. She’d offered a friendly face and a helping hand which eventually led to the job [Y/N] held to this day. During the day she was a baker, working at the best bakery in town but her other passion was music. If there was something that [Y/N] loved as much as baking? It was music. Of course befriending Cassie led to meeting and becoming friends with Jenny, Denise and there he was—sauntering back from the bar with two drinks, one in each hand. It was through this group of beautiful women that she met the man who was now her boyfriend: Beau Arlen. He wore a bright smile that always delivered [Y/N] a warmth that she’d never before felt. Approaching the table and placing her drink in front of her, he’d then move to sit down before leaning forward to press a kiss to your hair. “There you are darlin’, nice and cold.” He’d speak as she leaned forward to take a sip from the glass. “Thank you, baby.” She spoke, Jenny and Cassie chuckling. They were all too used to the two of you acting like no one else was in the room. “What’s so funny?” Beau asked with a light chuckle himself, Jenny shaking her head. “Nothing, I just don’t know why you guys keep including us in your dates—feels like we’re watching mom and dad.” Hoyt replied before taking another swig of her beer. Cassie couldn’t help but to laugh. “She means that with all the love in the world.” Beau and [Y/N] look at one another with little smiles. “We’ll try better to behave.” She added, Cassie taking another drink. “Are you gonna get up and sing [Y/N]?” Dewell asked, Jenny and Beau both moving their gaze to where she sat with her eyes wide.

“You sing?!” Beau asked, turning towards her with a twinkle in his eye. “I need to hear this immediately.” Jenny added, her own eyes trained on the woman sat across from her at the table. [Y/N]’s eyes moved to Cassie who had just outted her without a second thought. “I don’t know..” she spoke, taking another sip of her drink and desperately hoping that they’d change the topic of conversation. Her hopes were not the case as Beau leaned into her side with a smile. “Sing something for me.” He whispered. Her eyes turned and met his, that beautiful green twinkling with love and admiration. Reaching to pick up her drink now, [Y/N] lifted the glass to her lips and took a moment or so to down the contents. Lightly burning her throat to which she’d make a funny face, causing everyone at the table to laugh softly. Slowly she pushed the chair back, taking a deep breath into her lungs and pushing it back out again. Lifting herself from the seat she’d walk over towards the booth where the man operating the karaoke for the evening sat. Beau’s eyes followed her every step of the way, watching as the bar lights danced off her [Y/H/C] locks. She spoke to the man who nodded, Cassie and Jenny were watching her at first to see what she’d be doing—their eyes moved towards Beau slowly however, watching the way he looked at her. Briefly they shared a look themselves, silently having a conversation about both Beau and [Y/N].

Speaking of [Y/N] she’d climbed the small staircase that led onto the main part of the stage. She’d been wearing light blue skinny jeans that evening, a worn out graphic T-shirt clinging perfectly to her torso. Tucking some loose strands of [Y/H/C] behind her left ear. Still sitting at their table, the three people she’d come with had their eyes on her with pride and smiles upon their faces. “You ready?” the karaoke man asked, to which she’d nod in his direction. Holding the microphone loosely in her hands she’d look out amongst the crowd, doing a sweep before her eyes landed back at her table. Smiling at Cassie and Jenny who gave her a little wave and two thumbs up, it settled her nerves a bit. Next her eyes found the man that made the rest of the world disappear. Beau smiled up at her with the most genuine of expressions, already immensely proud despite the fact she hadn’t sang a note yet. Now the speakers would come alive, the first few notes of ‘Cowboy Take Me Away’ by The Chicks playing. Jenny looked back at Beau, Cassie kept her eyes on [Y/N] at first. She held the microphone firmly and began to sing.

“I said, I wanna touch the earth. I wanna break it in my hands. I wanna grow something wild and unruly. I wanna sleep on the hard ground, in the comfort of your arms—on a pillow of blue bonnets in a blanket made of stars. Oh, it sounds good to me.”

[Y/N] voice was soft, but everyone could tell she was a good singer. There was a little hint of twang buried within her voice, likely from a little too much time with a certain Texan man. If Beau’s eyes hadn’t been twinkling before? They sure were now, watching this woman who’d easily captured his heart.

“I said, cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you—closer to you.”

Chills filled the arms of her friend group, but especially her boyfriend. [Y/N] had looked around a little bit at the various patrons of the bar, onlooking and smiling—enjoying the song she’d picked and enjoying her singing it. Now it was Cassie’s turn to look back at Beau, Jenny turning her gaze forward to watch [Y/N]. Cassie just watched the way was looking at you, so full of life and so full of joy. It was nice to see him so happy after all he’d been through both before Helena and since moving here. There was no catch, no waiting for another shoe to drop, just.. [Y/N] loving him as best she could and showing him humanity was still alive. Maybe more importantly than that, showing him that he could still have happiness and love without ulterior motives or forcing something that just doesn’t work anymore. Once [Y/N] looked at Beau, any nerves she had about him not enjoying the song choice, or her voice or anything had completely vanished. So, she continued to sing while her eyes were locked onto the sheriff.

“I wanna walk and not run, I wanna skip and not fall. I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall.”

She and Beau had this conversation a couple times, about how being here brought [Y/N] an inner peace she didn’t know could ever exist. Admiring the vast blue sky in the daytime and being able to see the stars at nighttime—noises of nature and calmness rather than constant sounds of vehicles, horns honking and various sirens at all hours of the day.

“I wanna be the only one for miles and miles—except for maybe you and your simple smile. Oh, it sounds good to me. Yes, it sounds so good to me.”

Often times, nights were spent with Beau and [Y/N] blasting music from a speaker and dancing around the open field in front of his trailer. Slow dancing, silly dancing, maybe the odd dance that was a little more raunchy if anything. All of it under the blanket of the Montana sky with the beautiful stars shining bright. These kinds of memories were ones that she would hold near and dear to her heart. Other nights were spent watching movies outside—whether it was the weekly friends movie night, with Emily, or just the two of them. [Y/N] would bring home some of the treats she’d baked and take some to Beau, who was always more than happy to receive them.

“I said, cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you—closer to you.”

[Y/N] sang directly to Beau, eventually moving to look around just a little bit—though her eyes never stayed away long. Of course she’d give Cassie a little wave too, smiling between the lyrics of the song. Taking a soft breath again, [Y/N] would lower her voice a little to sing the bridge of the song. It was beautiful to the ears of everyone within the bar, but none loved it as much as the cowboy that she was singing about and singing directly to—that smile seemingly planted on his lips permanently.

“I said, I wanna touch the earth, I wanna break it in my hands. I wanna grow something wild and unruly. Oh, it sounds so good to me.”

[Y/N] had smiled while singing the words, confidence finally and fully setting in while she gazed towards her cowboy. It was the last repeat of the chorus and so it required a little more emotion behind the words. Luckily for her, [Y/N] had plenty of strong emotions for Beau Arlen.

“Cowboy take me away. Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray. Closer to heaven above and closer to you. Closer to you. Closer to you. Cowboy take me away, closer to you.”

Beau stood to his feet, followed a couple seconds later by Cassie and Jenny. Everyone in the bar was clapping, offering their applause to the performance. It was an every day occurrence that someone with some real ability took the stage—it was usually reserved for some drunken, fun loving singing. If you could call it that. However Beau’s feet carried him to the bottom of the staircase by the stage, [Y/N] handing the microphone back to the back behind the booth before turning around. Again her lips were curled upward immediately, walking across the stage and down the couple steps directly into Beau’s arms. “You’re incredible darlin’. Utterly incredible.” He spoke, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. She smiled and gazed up at him with her [Y/E/C] eyes, now they were the ones twinkling with love, admiration and pure joy. “Thank you, baby.” She replied with a soft tone to her voice. Beau didn’t waste any time and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to [Y/N]’s lips. His beard rubbing against her face always tickled a little but she adored it. Now her arms would come up and wrap around his neck—both pairs of eyes being concealed by their lids as the kiss brought that warmth to both of them.

Everyone in the bar whistled or cheered, which brought the couple back to the reality that they indeed were in a room full of people. Both Beau and [Y/N] just smiled after breaking their kiss and walked back to their table hand-in-hand. Cassie and Jenny were smiling and sipping on their beers while the couple sat down in their chairs across from the dynamic duo. “[Y/N]! I didn’t know you could sing, that was beautiful.” Jenny complimented her with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Jenny.” She replied before slowly leaning against Beau’s arm. “How did you know she could sing Cassie?” Hoyt asked, turning to look at her best friend. Cassie simply laughed. “I was helping [Y/N] move some stuff around and clean up the garage and she had the radio on, she started singing along quietly at first but eventually moved to a regular volume.” Dewell explained, opting for another drink of her beer. “I had an idea, except when she knew I was listenin’ she’d get quiet or stop altogether and opt for humming.” Beau added, which had [Y/N] tilt her head up to look at her boyfriend. “You noticed that?” She asked, surprise in her tone. “Honey I’m a cop, attention to details is kind of a necessity.” He replied, to which all four of them laughed softly. “Fair point.” She conceded. “I’ve always been nervous about my singing, I don’t know.” She continued before laying her head back on Beau’s arm. “Well there’s no need to be after that, though your cowboy may be putting in many requests now.” Jenny joked, downing the rest of her beer. “Oh definitely.” He replied to which they all laughed again. “Well we’d better get going.” Cassie spoke and Jenny nodded. “Yep, we’ve got a lot on the plate for tomorrow.” Hoyt spoke while lifting herself up from her seat.

Cassie finished her beer and slowly stood up as well. “Anything I need to know about?” Beau asked, both women shaking their heads. “Don’t think so—but if that changes you’ll be the first to know.” Cassie replied, smiling towards both he and [Y/N]. “Goodnight guys.” Jenny said, Cassie mirroring the sentiment before they placed money down onto the table as a tip. After a couple moments she looked up towards Beau, nudging his shoulder with her chin. “What is it darlin’?” He asked, turning and looking down with his beautiful green eyes. “Does that mean we should get going soon?” [Y/N] asked, noting that for someone who needed to be up rather early in the morning.. it was getting pretty late. “Probably, sweetheart. Hey.. one more dance before we hit the road?” He asked, that Texas drawl very evident. [Y/N] smiled and nodded, quickly standing up and extending her hands towards her boyfriend.

Beau chuckled before lifting himself from his chair, taking her hands and leading her onto the dance floor. If you asked [Y/N] what song was playing, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. All that she focused on was her handsome cowboy and the joy that was overflowing within her heart.

#beau arlen #fanfics #beau arlen x reader #Beau Arlen imagines #big sky #big Sky imagines #Spotify

26 notes · View notes

iouinotes · 4 months

Text

Good gone bad | Corionalus Snow (Part 2)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x female!reader

movie: Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

genre: dark!character, smut

word count: k

summary: You awake from the illusion, Coryo has put you under. Can you escape him?

a/n: @user90288777 requested a part 2, so here you go :))

read part one here

His body feels so good against mine, rays of sunshine are falling through the window onto our bare skin. I smile dreamily as I feel the warmth on my skin.

My eyes try to look at my surroundings and I do my best to concentrate. With heavy eyelids I see the portraits of the former rulers, look at the high ceiling, the marble floor and the documents infront of me, that are laying on his office desk. But I am unable to read them, the letters blur infront of my eyes.

His fingers are lazily tracing my skin, his lips meet my shoulders and continue to place gentle kisses further towards my neck. I hold my breath, when he brushes some strays of my hair aside, wrapping his arms around my waist to hold me close.

I can't say exactly how long we've been in this position. Me leaning against his back, sitting on his lap, while he radiates with a power, that makes me feel uneasy.

It could be minutes, days, even weeks of being near him, touching him, always staying by bis side.

Every little thought makes my head ache, I cant even remember how long it has been since he visited me in my dorm. Since then, the days have merged into each other, it is impossible to keep track of the time that has passed.

The only thing I noticed, is the repetitive contact with something, that makes me feel like I was trapped in a blizzard at first and then I can suddenly only concentrate on needing Coryo by my side.

Only him and no one else.

When that happens, like a rhythm, I feel myself getting lost in my feelings. No thoughts bother my head, the time disappears again and again infront of my opened eyes, but I am still able to feel the presence of him.

And that is most important, he always reminds me of it. Only him, only me. Only us.

Although I'm not sure, I begin to notice changes in my surroundings. The imperfections on the ground, the bright yellow colour of the wall, the cursive letters on the documents and his pale fingers, with which he holds me in a firm grip against his body.

The warm feeling from earlier melts into a shivering cold, when my eyes finally focus and I am able to actually hold on onto one of my thoughts.

What am I doing here?

Warily I try to catch a glimpse of him, but I can only see blue bruises and red traces of nails on my skin, it makes my heartbeat race in my chest. Even though I try to keep my cool, he notices my unnerved movements.

,,Im trying to focus, sit still." His voice makes my blood run cold.

It takes every ounce of effort in me not to move. To not immediately get up from his lap, to hit his perfect face and then flee hundreds of kilometers - no, to another district to escape him.

His proximity to me is unsettling and his voice so stern, that I don't even dare to breathe out too loud. I am so terrified and have absolutely no idea how to escape from this situation.

He betrayed me. I hear these thoughts loud and clear in my head.

And I loved him.

A numb feeling, similar to the dark void of my childhood, wraps itself around my heart, the grip so tight that it feels like my personal death sentence.

I wanted nothing more in this world, then that my wish would be granted and my love for him would dissolve, like his poison on my skin back in the dorm.

I thought about killing him for a second, to feel the relief of his blood on my hands, that could help me too be free. Then, I knew I would never be that selfish. Because I could never kill him, only to make me feel better.

So, I wanted to focus.

First of all, I have to rely on what I do best. Structured and clear reasoning to develop a plan. So I breathe in with my nose and focus on the facts. With an unobtrusive glance, I look around and notice three things.

Firstly, I am in the president's office.

Secondly (and this makes me freeze for whole 10 minutes, I can see it on the clock on the wall), Coriolanus Snow, my traitorous best friend, is the President of Panem.

Third, I'm sitting on his lap in a gauzy purple dress, he's reviewing documents about the regulation of new laws and I exist silently, doll-like beside him.

I want to cry until the Pacific Ocean seems like a river compared to the amount of tears I've shed. My nerves are on edge and even if I'm trying, I can't concentrate anymore. The only thing I am aware of is what he has done to me.

The night he came to my apartment and begged me to trust him again - he poisoned me.

This cold, liquid happiness that he poured over my skin paralyzed me. The more dials on the clock move forward, the more I realize how much time must have passed in reality. Months, because he is the president of our country, I sit on him as if it were a matter of course and everything becomes progressively more absurd.

I no longer know who I am or how long I've been pretending to be someone else. All I know is that he is to blame and the way he sits here - relaxed - shows that he feels absolutely no remorse. I almost think I'm going to throw up.

And then he moves and I freeze. His hands move to my arms, stroking them and I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on something else. When his voice breaks the silence and I understand the true meaning of his words, I have to suppress tears.

"I wish you would talk to me again. I miss you so much."

And then he is quiet again and silence engulfs us again. I can't believe what I'm hearing from him. And then I want to scream and ask "Then why did you do this to me?", but I stay quiet and even if I wanted to, I probably couldn't say a word.

Because it was all a lie. An illusion, a fake honesty. A dishonest love. And I was stupid enough to believe it. I let him do this to me.

Waves of hatred and sorrow so strong that I would writhe, if his arms weren't wrapped tightly around my waist, embrace me. I have to get out of here, away, away, away, away…

But how? He will notice any inconspicuousness. I know he notices every little detail. For the moment, I have no choice, but to continue pretending to be under this spell, even though it's killing me.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Another hour passes and I become more and more exhausted from the strain of trying to stay calm. I struggle to keep my eyes open and don't notice how I'm gradually leaning more and more against him. Then I feel his lips on my cheek and goose bumps appear on my skin.

I'm suddenly wide awake.

"You're so good to me, if only you knew how happy it makes me that you're here with me." His words feel like ice splinters, that are stabbed into my heart and my muscles start to ache the more tense I get.

His fingers stroke my thighs, which is made possible by the slit of my dress. As he gets closer and closer to my core, I want to scream.

"I have to say, love. I admire your acting skills. I almost didn't notice that your calmness and submissiveness were faked."

When I try to jump off his lap, he holds me firmly in place in a tight grip.

"Do you know what your behavior over the last three hours has shown me?" He knew, I realize. He knew the whole time.

His fingers stroke my clothed core, sliding up and down, creating a delicious pressure that makes me twitch on his lap.

"It showed me that you can do exactly what I expect, without Dr. Gaul's concoction. I knew you would be perfect as my first lady of Panem." This statement makes me freeze. He quietly laughs.

"Really? So much time to think and you didn't realize that? You're everything I ever wanted. Of course you'll be by my side. No matter how."

To show me how much he already has me under control, he slowly pushes my panties to the side and drags one of his fingers through my wet folds. I'm unable to move, it's as if my body has gone rigid with fear.

"You are so pretty. Every moment I touch you is like the most precious treasure in the world." He is quiet for a moment.

"I had no choice, you would have never agreed willingly."

His words finally make me cry. Even his warmth and the arms he holds around me for support feel more and more like a prison.

"You're crazy - I loved you!" As I break down, my frustration, sadness and anger are clearly evident in my voice.

"I know, love." His fingers brush the tears from my cheeks, his lips leave loving kisses. But to me, everything just feels wrong. I don't want to be near him for another second.

"Then why? Why did you do this to me?" He won't let go of me, no matter how hard I try.

"Because we love each other in a different way. You were ready to let me go." His eyes are starring daggers in my back.

"I, on the other hand, could never let you leave."

Every word feels like a stab into my heart. I'm not sure I'll ever recover from these wounds. Or if he'll let me recover at all.

"And now what? You're going to keep poisoning me for the rest of my life?" I would rather die than live like this. When he shakes his head after a second, I have hope.

"Of course not. This time I want to give you an option. Either you will stay by my side voluntarily or, unfortunately, I will have to force you to. And we've seen how well that works, haven't we?"

I'm shaking, my head feels like it's going to explode any second. "Why won't you let me go? Please, I want to go home."

He turns me in his lap and for the first time I look at his face again. Notice his hair, grown back and neatly trimmed. The blue of his eyes, which doesn't look at me pitying at all. Then his lips, smiling as if he was giving me a present.

"My darling, you're home now. You'll be safe by my side forever. Your family is taken care of, your future is secure. You are now the most respected woman in the country, I have made sure of that. I'll do anything you want."

"You can't keep me here forever." My voice trembles. And when he starts to move his fingers inside me, my knees weaken. His hand holds my face tightly to keep my gaze fixed on him.

"Oh, but I already have." As he gets closer and hits the spot inside me, that makes me see stars, I can't help but moan uncontrollably.

The rustling of his pants resounds in the room and as he lifts me up for a moment and I gather all my strength to get off him, he lets me sink onto his cock. My warmth catches him, I almost fall onto him and feel a pain that quickly changes to pleasure. As he moves my hips up and down a few times, my eyes almost roll back.

"See how well I take care of you? I've already provided for everything. You won't remember, but we've done this so many times that you'll soon have two heartbeats inside you. Trust me."

I cant breathe.

"This world is cruel and covetous and I'm here to protect you from it." His hands grasp my waist.

If only he knew that it was really him, I needed to be saved from.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #x reader

29 notes · View notes

officialaemondtargaryen · 1 year

Text

Prompt: "We both kinda escaped the same party and there's only one place to effectively hide from everyone else, I'm sorry but could I please hide in this stupidly claustrophobic spot for just one minute, my heels are killing me?" AU

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Trigger warning: Partying, alcohol use, drug use.

Author's Note: Happy New Years! Are all of my fics holiday themed now? See ya on Valentine's Day, I guess. Also, I was torn between writing this for Eddie or writing this for Argyle, but I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to nail the dialogue with Argyle- I need to study his character more (aka watch vol. 4 again). I really hope that you enjoy this 100% self-indulgent, steaming pile of crap.

It was Robin's fault, truly.

Steve had originally asked her to go with him to Tina's party, but she wasn't able to get out of work. You already had plans with your mother, a few VHS tapes, and a giant bowl of popcorn, but Steve promised that he would make it up to you in some way, and having something to hold over him was enough to make you reconsider.

Still, you already felt out of place as you sat in Steve's passenger seat picking at the hem of your skirt while he fixed his hair in his rearview mirror. You weren't a huge fan of parties, never had been, especially parties where you didn't drive yourself and therefore could not leave on your own accord unless you wanted to walk a few miles in freezing temperatures.

Steve promised he'd have you home at a decent time, but it was New Year's Eve, and you knew that 'decent time' wouldn't be until at least after the ball dropped. His main objective was Kimberly Kline; a former varsity cheerleader who graduated at the top of her class and the mayor's daughter. According to your best friend, Kimberly had asked him if he was going to the party when she was checking out at the Family Video last week. Steve obviously took that as an invitation, despite not actually being invited.

You were just there as a buffer, in case things between him and Kimberly didn't work out. If they did, you were on your own.

"Your hair looks fine, Steve." You mentioned as he carded his fingers through his silky, brunette locks for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "My head doesn't look too square?"

You sighed and turned to face him. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your head has always been and will always be square."

His shoulders dropped as he flipped the visor up and pulled the keys from the ignition. "You know what? That's just great. Thank you, Y/N. Way to boost my confidence."

You pursed your lips to keep yourself from laughing. He rolled his eyes and began mumbling to himself as he climbed out of the burgundy vehicle and shut the door behind him. You let out a chuckle as he dramatically marched off toward Tina's house, leaving you to follow.

"Honestly, Y/N," Steve turned back to you sharply and put his hands on his hips. "I was hoping you'd, I don't know, hype me up and make me feel good about myself. I'm already nervous!"

"Clearly," you laughed as you joined him at his side. "Look, Steve," you reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder. "Kimberly Kline would be totally bonkers to not want to hook up with you. So stop worrying about how you look! If that's all she cares about then you're better off honestly."

Steve looked at you sheepishly with a small blush growing on his cheeks. "Thanks, Y/N."

Before you could say anything, an old, white van sped around the corner past the two of you; tires screeching on the asphalt, leaving a trail of exhaust fumes in its wake. You could hear Iron Maiden blaring as the driver came to a hard stop in Tina's front yard, knocking over a large plastic snowman. You rolled your eyes as Eddie Munson slid out of the driver's seat and took a long drag off of the cigarette hanging from his mouth; a bright cloud of smoke hanging in the air as he exhaled.

"What a jerk," Steve mentioned, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Who? Eddie?" You asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "He thinks he's so cool."

"You know, people used to think that about you," You teased, giving Steve's shoulder a little shove as you began walking towards the party.

It didn't take long before you were standing in Tina's kitchen with a plastic cup in your hand. Your head absentmindedly bobbing to the loud pop music playing through the stereo in the living room. The New Year's Eve special was playing on the television but you wouldn't have been able to hear it. Steve had already spotted Kimberly and had downed two drinks before building up the courage to go over and talk to her.

You were leaning up against the counter, making small talk with a girl that had been in the drama club with you for a few years; catching up, talking about work and college, the usual. Steve was on the couch with his arm around Kimberly, talking animatedly with his hands, and she was smiling. He caught eyes with you for a moment and gave you a quick head nod to let you know that things were going well.

A guy you didn't recognize was aggressively making eye contact from his place in the dining room. You looked for a quick exit, knowing that at any moment he would shove himself off of the wall and stagger over to you. Excusing yourself, you tried to make your way towards Steve but were blocked off by a keg-stand in progress. You peered through the party-goers and noticed the guy was just stepping into the kitchen, ducking your head, you didn't have many options other than out the back door or a random door to your left. Wanting to avoid what would absolutely be the most awkward encounter of your life, you slipped through the closest door hoping the stranger didn't notice.

After a few moments, you considered yourself safe and turned to see that you were standing in Tina's pantry, and there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bag of Doritos in his hand, was Eddie Munson; mouth slightly agape, eyes wide.

"Shit," you blurted. "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing in here." You went to turn and leave, your hand was hovering over the doorknob, but the thought of the creep on the other side made you hesitate. "Actually, do you mind if I hang out in here with you for a minute? I'm trying to avoid some weirdo who apparently was never taught that staring is rude."

Immediately, Eddie's eyes shifted to the floor. "Uh, sure." He replied. You sighed in relief. "Unless you just want me to go out there and kick his ass."

You laughed and sat with your back against the wall opposite him. "I appreciate the offer, but kicking off the new year with an assault charge is probably not a good idea." Eddie smiled in reply and the pantry fell silent. "So what is Eddie fucking Munson doing sitting in Tina Burton's pantry?"

He looked up at you through thick, curly bangs and shrugged. "Came here to do a deal," he motioned to his little black box that you had seen a few times before. "But not really feeling the atmosphere," he drew out. "Too many jocks."

"Isn't that your van parked out front?" You asked, he nodded. "You can always leave."

"Suppose I could," he replied. "But then you'd be stuck in this pantry by yourself with a creep on the loose."

"You'd rather stay here at this lame party, despite the fact that you are completely miserable, for me?" His dark chocolate eyes connected with yours for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was shy. "You flatter me, Mr. Munson."

"What about you?" He asked, turning the tables. "You never really struck me as a party girl. I'm sure you came here with someone."

"I did, yeah, I came with Steve." You replied reaching over and grabbing a handful of Doritos from the bag Eddie was holding.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, his brows raised. "Harrington?" You nodded as you shoved chips into your mouth. "Let me guess, you were supposed to be his date but it didn't work out?"

You almost choked. "No! God, no." Eddie's eyes were probing you for an explanation but you were also hurriedly trying to swallow what was in your mouth before you began talking. "He's trying to get laid, and for fuck's sake, I hope he does. He has been such a little brat lately." Eddie laughed. "I'm his shoulder to cry on in case things don't work out for him."

"Hard to imagine that something wouldn't work out for Steve "The Hair" Harrington," Eddie replied almost critically. He flipped open his little box and pulled out a small, metal tin before producing a pre-rolled joint. Your eyes widened as he stuck it between his lips and pulled a lighter our of his pocket. "What?"

"In here?" You asked.

"You afraid we're going to get in trouble, Y/L/N?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction before lighting the end of the homemade cigarette. Eddie took a long drag and inhaled the smoke into his lungs and held it for a few moments before exhaling with a loud cough.

"Well, yeah," you replied but still took the joint from Eddie's fingers when he offered it to you. The smoke burned your chest as you inhaled, you couldn't help but cough, choking on the skunky taste before passing the joint back to him.

"You're adorable," he laughed and you immediately pouted. "Yep, that look right there. Let me just-" Eddie placed the burning joint between his lips and held his fingers up in front of his face to mimic a camera, pressing the invisible button with a click sound. "Commit that to my memory." You shook your head and giggled at his antics. "That one, too." He added, clicking his invisible camera, once more.

Sitting here, in the floor of Tina's pantry, you wondered why you hadn't hung out with him more than just the occasional drug deal. You had started buying pot from Eddie in your junior year when his band started practicing in Gareth Emerson's garage, but you had never actually hung out with him outside of that. You'd stay and watch them practice a few songs, but that was about it.

"So do you have any new year's resolutions?" You asked him after taking another hit, not wanting the conversation to die.

"Yeah, graduating," he replied as he sunk back against the wall.

"Any plans on what you're going to do after that?"

"What like college?" He asked taking one last hit before disposing of the smoldering joint in an empty can of beer, you nodded. "I don't really think I'm the college type. Besides, there's no degree for what I want to do."

"So you're going to hit the road?" You asked, "take Corroded Coffin on tour and sell out stadiums?"

"That's the dream," He replied and immediately frowned. "More like a fantasy, really."

"It's not." You reassured him. "There'll be thousands in the crowd screaming your name one day, and I'll be one of them. If I had a permanent marker I'd ask for your autograph now before you get too famous and eventually sell out."

"Never!" He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say." You teased.

"What about you?" He asked in return. "Any new years plans?"

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. You hadn't really given much thought to the new year and you weren't the type to make any resolutions. After all, you lived in Hawkins, Indiana, a place where people didn't really make plans or have any goals outside of settling down and moving up in whatever dead-end job they were working. Every year you'd hear the same shit; "I want to lose ten pounds", "I'm going to stop smoking", "I plan to be more active", or "I'd like to read more books". They'd start off strong, but before January was even over, they'll forget they even set a goal to begin with.

Eddie had lit another joint, waiting for your response but there wouldn't be one. A silence made itself comfortable between the two of you. You could see Eddie was about to say something else, but outside of the pantry, the countdown was beginning; the last few moments of 1985. If you were to make a resolution, now would be the time to do it.

"Ten, nine-"

"We should kiss," you mentioned with a shrug of your shoulders, deciding that your resolution would be to take risks. "Wouldn't want to ruin the tradition."

"Seven, six-"

"What?" He asked, almost choking on the smoke he inhaled from the joint wedged between his fingers. His brows merged together as he coughed.

"Four, three, two-"

"I mean we don't have to," you answered, knowing that he had heard you the first time.

"Happy New Year!"

Eddie paused for just a moment, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip before he moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you towards him for a firm kiss. Before you had the chance to fully reciprocate, he pulled away; his eyes searching your features for any sign that he should stop- or continue. Without any hesitation, you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him back to you, the kiss deeper this time. His lips were hot against yours as his fingers curled into the roots of your hair. Your tongue tangled with his in an eloquent dance that felt so familiar yet brand new.

You pulled away to catch your breath and looked up into his deep brown eyes which were full-blown with lust as he grabbed for you to come closer. Every few moments you'd giggle and he'd smile as you tried to navigate the positioning of your bodies in the small pantry, but your lips still made their way back to each other. His hands pushed your jacket down your shoulders as his lips left a trail of kisses along your neck. You moved to straddle his lap, desperate to be closer to him, but in the move your head collided with the shelf above, sending a couple bags of chips into Eddie's lap instead.

He couldn't help but laugh; his full pink lips stretched into a smile as he took your face in his hands. "You okay, there?"

"Ow," you winced as you rubbed a hand over your head.

"Let me see," he cooed and you tilted your head down to him. He placed a soft kiss on your tender scalp. "All better?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Just ruined the moment, is all."

Eddie, with your face still in his gentle but calloused hands, placed a lingering kiss on your pouted lips. "You didn't ruin anything," He said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Besides, we should probably get out of here."

It was hard not to notice the dirty looks on the faces of your peers as you and Eddie emerged from the pantry; some of them even pointed as they whispered to each other.

"Do you see Steve?" You yelled at Eddie over the music. "I should probably let him know I'm leaving!"

He scoured the crowd and shook his head. "Maybe things worked out for him!"

"Maybe!" You shrugged and made your way towards the front door; weaving in and out of the sweaty, drunken bodies. Eddie's hand was in yours so as to not get separated from you as he followed behind.

The air was brisk as you stepped out onto Tina's front porch, clearing your foggy mind the second you took a deep breath. You shivered as Eddie stepped in front of you, leading you to his van.

"Your chariot awaits, madam." He said, offering to open the passenger side door for you.

"Wait, one second!" You quickly dashed over to where Eddie had knocked over Tina's decorative snowman and sat him upright. "What, you hit Frosty!" You exclaimed.

Eddie just laughed and shook his head before quickly scrambling around to the driver's side and hopping in. He shoved his keys into the ignition and turned the heat on full blast. "Don't worry, she heats up pretty fast."

As Eddie backed out of Tina's yard you noticed Steve's car was no longer where he had parked it when you first arrived. You hoped that Steve didn't leave alone, and also that he didn't leave without at least looking for you first. Given that you were hiding out in the pantry for most of the night, you gave him the benefit of the doubt that if he had known where you were, he would have given you the heads up.

The drive back to your place was mostly quiet, save for the music coming from Eddie's radio. He had the volume turned low and his window was cracked as he smoked a cigarette.

"May I?" You asked, motioning towards the cardboard box of cassette tapes that sat on the floorboard between the seats.

"Go for it," he replied as he slowed to a stop at a red light. "Find something to put on." He ejected his Iron Maiden cassette and placed it back in its plastic case, giving you free rein to choose whatever you wanted.

You rummaged through Eddie's music selection, marveling at his taste. He had everything from metal to punk, the classics, and- "Hall and Oates?" You asked, almost teasing him.

"What's wrong with Hall and Oates?" He asked, snatching the tape from your hands. "Kiss On My List? You Make My Dreams Come True? Can't help but love 'em, they're catchy."

"I completely agree," you replied, still shifting through the box. "I'm just surprised is all, would have thought that there wasn't enough guitar for you."

"It's not always about the guitar!"

You picked out Bruce Springsteen and gently pushed the tape into the cassette player. Eddie nodded in approval as he began humming along to the melody. The blue lights on the dashboard illuminated his soft features, making you realize how beautiful he really was. A small smile pulled at your lips as your eyes took in the sight of him, wondering how you never saw it before.

"You're staring," he taunted, stealing a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road.

"I'm sorry," you laughed but didn't take your eyes off of him. "I just- I never realized how beautiful you are."

"You think I'm beautiful?" He asked, placing a hand over his heart and batting his eyelashes at you.

"And silly," you giggled. "But, yes."

Eddie shook his head in response, unable to hold back his smile. "You know, I had the biggest crush on you in school."

"You did not!" You gasped.

"I totally did!" He replied. "It was bad. I would take the long way to class just so that I could walk past your locker. Man, those days after school when you'd come over to Gareth's to buy some weed and you'd hang out and listen to our band- fuck!" He was shaking his head; beautiful brunette curls bouncing on his shoulders.

"I had no idea," you replied. "You were always so quiet, I thought you didn't like me."

"You thought I- what? Didn't like you!?" He exclaimed. "Come on! How could any guy not like you? You're so fucking funny! Plus, you're like actually a good person. You're compassionate and kind and smart as Hell."

"Why tell me now?" You asked as your heart skipped beats.

"I don't know, it's New Years, why not?" He answered. "Why'd you ask me to kiss you back at Tina's?"

You shrugged, "because it's New Years, why not?" Eddie smiled at your response as he pulled up to the curb of your house. You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to face him, "I'd offer for you to come in, but I know my mom is waiting up for me."

"That's okay," he replied softly. "I really want to kiss you again."

"Yeah?" You bit your lip under his gaze.

"Mhm," he hummed.

Eddie leaned in to place his lips on yours one more time. It was slow and sweet; soft, like the glow of his headlights reflecting on the flurries of snow falling from the dark, midnight sky. You would have never thought that this night would have ended this way, but you were so thankful that it did. You weren't sure what 1986 had in store for you, but you were determined to make sure that Eddie was a part of it.

"I appreciate the ride home," you said barely above a whisper as you pulled away. "I should probably get inside, I bet-" you turned to look at your house and saw your mother's figure at the window. "Yep, she's watching."

Eddie chuckled and climbed out of the van. You smiled as he rounded the hood of the vehicle to open the passenger door for you. "Let's not keep her waiting." You slid out of his van and gave him a hug before heading up your driveway. "Maybe I'll see you are Gareth's or something?"

"Or," you turned back to him. "Maybe you'll see me at that new pizza place that just opened up? Maybe around 7:00 on Friday?"

"It's a date," he called to you as he brought his hands up to his face in the shape of a camera one last time, taking a mental photo of you before the night ended.

291 notes · View notes