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reiding-writing · 10 days

Note

Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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tongue-like-a-razor · 8 months

Text

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Note

Hi I know this is silly but what if soap and ghost had friendship bracelets and someone stole soaps and ghost who said he didn’t care about them (he never took his off) goes feral tracking it down for soap who was inconsolable because he lost something ghost trusted him with.

Have a lovely day

firstly!! apologies for getting to this so late. secondly!! not silly at all this is so cute

There’s nothing particular about the day other than the fact that Ghost’s first thought upon seeing Soap, is that the sergeant looks like shit.

His mohawk is unkempt in spite of the risks Soap already runs bordering the edge of what is considered regulation, and there’s bags under his eyes that tell Ghost he hasn’t slept, at the very least since the day prior.

Ghost waits too long for his liking for a moment available to pull him aside and sort out the matter. No matter the issue, a distracted sergeant isn’t ideal for carrying out their duties.

When Soap barely reacts to Ghost grabbing his arm, Ghost figures there must be something properly wrong.

“What’s going on with you?” Ghost asks, his voice kept low.

Heartbroken, Ghost thinks, is the right word to describe how he feels when Soap looks up at him with a deep exhaustion.

Soap only shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, LT. Just a bad day, s’all.”

Ghost huffs. “You and I both know that’s bullshit, Johnny.”

Soap sighs, shrugging off Ghost’s hold. He scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms, and while that might otherwise help to disperse some of his worry—Soap only seems to tense further.

“I know you said you don’t care, but…” Soap sighs again, his shoulder slumping as his arms fall back to his sides in defeat. “I lost the bracelet. Someone took it or somethin’ and it’s… it’s missing. I’m sorry, I—“

“Johnny,” Ghost cuts in, “you don’t have to apologize. It happens.”

“Aye, but it’s still—“ Soap suddenly pauses and shakes his head, arms wrapping around himself. “I still feel bad.”

“You said someone took it?”

Soap’s eyes snap to Ghost’s, widening just momentarily as he processes the question. Slowly, though, he nods.

Ghost hums. That’s something he can certainly work with.

“Then don’t let it mess too much with your head,” Ghost says. “You’re not helpful to anyone like this.”

Soap’s brows drawn together, the pout on his lips pulling into a frown—but he doesn’t have the chance to get a word in, not before Ghost is patting his shoulder and stalking off with a new task in mind.

* * *

Guilt, Soap thinks, has always been an ugly emotion.

It’s not something he experiences often, and while this seems like something far too small to feel such anguish over—he can’t help but feel like the shittiest person in the world. He’d lost something Ghost had given to him, trusted him with, even if he had said he doesn’t care what Soap does with it.

It had been on top of his things when he went to shower. He knows it was, because it always is, but this time when he goes to get redress it’s gone. And he panics. He worries the rest of the day and doesn’t sleep trying to find it.

Then Ghost notices, Ghost finds out, and that guilt increases with ferocity. Even when Ghost seems so calm about it, so unbothered.

Soap’s feet drag throughout the day, even after his talk with Ghost. He tries to act like everything is fine, and can’t help but feel immense relief when he’s finally allowed to return to his room, about ready to collapse from exhaustion.

And there, sitting neatly on his bed, is the bracelet.

No note accompanies it, nor is there any sign of anyone having really been in his room beyond the bracelet, but it’s still there. It isn’t lost.

Though weary, Soap can’t help the small smile that appears on his face.

He supposes he should’ve known better than to think Ghost didn’t care.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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genshin-side-piece · 1 month

Note

I have a yandere Neuvillette concept that has been haunting me, especially in regard to how you write him cause I really loved your series on him :3c

So imagine a Neuvillette after he kidnapped darling. He understands why you're upset, and though he will not let you go he does feel a little guilty about keeping you with him. He justifies it by telling himself (and you) that it is for your own safety and protection.

BUUUUUUT imagine Neuvillette judging a trial where the defendant did the EXACT same thing. They kidnapped someone and help them against their will for several months. The defendant implores to him and the audience that they did it to protect the victim, they did it for love.

I think Neuvillette has overseen many trials where the defendant broke the law but still had a sympathetic reason to do so - like a person who killed in self defense or someone who stole to survive. Unfortunately, I don't think there is any canon material that explores this (as far as I know - hopefully I am wrong), but I think a non-yandere Neuvillette would not let his judgement be completely clouded by the defendant's motives. They still broke the law so off to Meropide they go, but he knows when to be lenient and understanding about it.

Back to yandere Neuvillette, this trial puts him between a rock and a hard place. This defendant did the exact same thing Neuvillette did to you, he understands their motives very well. If this is a post-Archon quest Fontaine then he has complete control over the defendant's fate. Should he judge this defendant fairly, as he had with millions of ever? If he sends the defendant to Meropide, then doesn't this mean Neuvillette is guilty in the eyes of the law as well? Deep down, does he secretly think he is above the law? That his darling's well being is more important than any legislation?

But if he declares the defendant not guilty then what will this mean for the future of Fontaine? Other criminals may see this and realize that doing things for "love" is a morally sound motive to the fair Iudex. Crime, especially kidnapping related ones, might increase! The people would question why the Chief Justice declared someone not guilty when they CLEARLY committed a heinous crime. Victims of similar crimes in Fontaine might not see Neuvillette has a pillar of justice, but of someone who undermines it (a harsh realization that you had to go through when he kidnapped you).

I imagine that whatever Neuvillette's decision is, he's a little shaken up after the trial. He goes home and seeks your (unwilling) comfort, pulling you into his arms for an embrace, even if you protest and try to slip away. He treats you a little differently afterwards; maybe he relaxes on the rules and regulations he enforced on you and gives you a bit more freedom, or maybe he doubles down on his decision to keep you and gets more frustrated when you fight back.

This made me so happy! TY for sending! 😊 I love to talk about this kind of stuff. I wish I got to do it more. I'm placing this under a cut, with warnings just to be safe.

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Neuvillette's grey area. It's my favorite thing about him.

Here's what makes him fun. He knows how to work the law(s) to his advantage. We see that with the traveler in 4.1. Neuvillette "invents" charges for the traveler to be sent to Meropide. He does so by getting them to commit a petty crime in the form of eating Furina's discarded cake. The traveler is unaware of said crime until they're sent to the actual fortress. Only then do they realize that Neuvillette pulled a harmless fast one on them. Later, we see him do it again when he goes behind Furina's back for the sake of the nation. I'm sure he felt horrible about it and tried to apologize afterwards, but he still went through with it because there was a greater good that needed to be fulfilled.

Same kind of principle applies here. Your safety is everything to him. Up until he finds you, he believes you to be in mortal danger. I imagine the moment of you just walking out all fine was a bit anticlimactic for him, but he would definitely take that over the alternative.

Through the power of his office, Neuvillette tricks the reader into coming with him vs taking them by force. The confinement portion gets a little stickier in terms of the laws. Neuvillette's reasons for taking you are sound. Those same reasons carry through to him keeping you. He was worried. He was concerned. As one of the leaders of Fontaine, he's merely performing his duty in protecting you. He can't guarantee your safety from the perceived threat if you go home. No, it's better if you stay with him until the threat passes, which could be never btw. Just because the serial k*ller has been caught, doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to do you harm. The mafia/cartels or even the fatui are still lurking. All it would take is one report that lists potential targets with a description that vaguely matches yours and he's set with his excuse.

Just as an aside, in my mind, Neuvillette carries some built in immunity. He has a sterling reputation. It’s not fully mentioned in the story, but even if he were accused of a crime, who would believe that person? He’s the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Someone who is purposefully written above reproach in the eyes of the population. He’s not infallible, but I feel like it would take a ton of convincing for anyone to believe Neuvillette had broken the law. Then there’s the matter of who judges him? Neuvillette is the judge. Who judges the judge in a nation with no archon?

In terms of the poor soul that has found their way before him, Neuvillette would 100% find that individual guilty regardless of his actions. Laws are laws and Neuvillette's main purpose in the story is uphold those laws. Where it gets iffy is how that person is sentenced. What is the appropriate level of justice for the crime? One could argue that the reader has already extracted a specific level of justice from Neuvillette based on how they treat him. How he feels about the trial afterwards is an interesting debate. Where Neuvillette and you start vs where you end in the series are two very different places. Since we’re talking specifically about the post-archon quest relationship between the two, I’m not sure how shaken he would be. The relationship is in a very different place from where the first story picks up. I can see him visiting his past feelings on the subject and briefly questioning specific things, but in the end it doesn’t matter to him based on how the series ends.

Still, for the purpose of this though, I can see him going home and bringing you close. How willing you want to be is up to you. 😊

#genshin impact #genshin #genshinimpact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette #chief justice neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #anonymous asks #anonymous

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n3ptoonz · 4 months

Text

'In For It'

THANKS FOR 200+❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Liu Kang/GN!Assassin!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: SMUTTY EXPLICIT IM TALKIN NASTYYY, pwp, spanking, BJ/face-fcking, reader is bound in chains, fingering, reader is a traitor!!, crying, begging, rough seggs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, hair pulling, you pissed off a god bro WHAT WERE YOU THINKING

reference post

Word count: 2.3k+

Explicit content below the cut

Were you crazy? To be swayed by a man like Shang Tsung was a punishable crime by God, and it certainly was about to be. You didn't exactly choose war with a God, but you were in for it. You defied peace the day you chose to not learn from Bi-Han's betrayal and go off on your own selfish path.

You were caught slipping. Making the foolish and arrogant decision to bring yourself back to his mansion. Thinking you could sneak in and take him out per Shang Tsung's request. He set you up for failure, and he knew this. However, instead of being sentenced to death like he thought would happen, there you sat: on your knees before the God of Fire and tears in your eyes. The cold chain around your neck and wrists behind your back clanging around in the silent room made shivers run down your spine.

Your weapon of choice was split in half on the ground behind you, nearly everything knocked over in the room. Any mortal that was able to piss off such a merciful and gracious God had to be out of their mind, and Liu Kang had no shame letting you know that.

"You disobey me, run off with the same sorcerer that tore apart Earthrealm's main defense, and come back here with the foolishly arrogant idea that you could kill me. Am I getting that right?" he said, pulling you forward as you were in between his thighs. He sat above you with his glowing eyes burning through your gaze, and the cloth that barely covered his dick sat right next to your face.

You had nothing to say. Humiliation ran its course throughout your entire body. What the hell were you thinking? Defeating a God? Seriously? Shang Tsung's words must have really been sweet like honey in order for anybody to just up and believe they could take out a God that was once betrayed by someone he thought highly of.

"Nothing to say? You only planned to bring my head to him as a gift, and no witty remark? Open your mouth." he demanded. You looked up at him confused and beads of tears at the corners of your eyes. Was he asking you to say something? Or literally open your mouth?

Your tears meant nothing to him. Neither did the shivering of your bare body in front of him. He used his free hand to grab both sides of your face and physically part your lips.

"I said to open your mouth." he repeated, gesturing for you to follow his orders. You slowly did so and waited for his next commands.

"Tongue out." he said. As soon as you did that too, he simply removed the cloth and took his dick in his hand to hold it in front of your face; right between your eyes.

"You don't want to be my warrior? Fine. You want mercy? Earn it." he continued, pulling you forward and directly over his lap. The mere sight of him half flaccid and still looking relatively big enough to fill your entire mouth made your head spin. It didn't help that the man before you was full of tattoos that complimented his figure and personality so well.

You slightly leaned forward and attempted to take all of him in your mouth in one go. You had stopped just an inch above the base before the tip kissed the back of your throat. He groaned at the warm wet feeling of your tongue sliding against the underside. Before you could go back up, he kept your head there for a moment. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of you regulating your strained breaths.

Tears began to form in your eyes again, but the power he was asserting over you was turning you on to another level. You couldn't help but softly moan against him, earning a chuckle rumbling through his chest.

"So you enjoy this? I should've know you blatantly went against me for a reason other than glory." he said, pulling your head up by your hair and hearing you gasp at the new air that filled your lungs. Your eyes were teary, nose was sniffing, and yet the smug smile was back onto your face. It was starting to excite you, and he knew this.

He dipped you back in again, this time at a set pace. The grip on your hair never let up. This was your punishment whether you liked it or not, and he wasn't going to be any nicer anytime soon.

You could literally feel him fully get hard as you sucked him off. The lewd sounds you made every time you went down deliciously filled the room, alongside the chains of course. The pace only got faster and faster as he used you as he pleased, and you honestly started to wonder if you could get off untouched like this. Anyone would be a lying fool to say Liu Kang wasn't sexy as fuck. So to be used like this by him? It'd be crazy if you didn't get off.

He was getting closer to his climax as he bobbed your head up and down. It was up until now when he decided to stop your head at the base again to cum down your throat, the tip bypassing the uvula to successfully not escape your mouth.

"Ahh yes, take all of it." he said, fully letting go of your hair to let you breathe again. But your "freedom" didn't last very long as he took your jaw into his hand. "You think I didn't notice you desperately trying to squeeze your thighs together for friction? Poor soul."

He released the chains around your neck, but not your wrists, so they remained behind you. You shakily stood up as he told you to, feeling the blood rush back to your legs, but quickly got pulled over his knees. He had you across his lap and ass up, letting his warm hand palm your ass with no shame. You surely knew how to keep your ass maintained if nothing else through training, and he secretly loved that the most about you.

"Do you want me to take you? Yes or no?" he asked, squeezing at the soft flesh. Your next words would've surely came out shaky, as it was difficult to think straight with the most powerful man in the world caressing your ass like this. All you could muster was a whimper, but he didn't like that.

His hand came down harshly on your left cheek before he rubbed it, causing you to writhe and wriggle in protest, but his other hand was able to keep you in place.

"I will ask one more time. Do you want to be taken by a God? Once you experience heaven through sex with one, you'll come crawling back when I'm finished with you. I won't be doing any of the sort until you verbally express your feelings."

You pant and whine beneath him. You so desperately needed to be fucked by him so badly, you couldn't even recognize yourself. Just an hour ago you swore to the Elder Gods you hated his guts. And now you wanted him to rearrange yours.

"Please, Lord Liu Kang..." you said, voice just above a whisper. You hadn't called him that in a while, and how easily it rolled off the tongue after you claimed you wanted him dead just as bad as Shang Tsung did, it was really a mystery.

"Please, what?" he asked sternly, purposely running his ring and middle finger along your hole. He knew this would elicit brain fog further into your mind. He could feel you shudder from this, even your teeth slightly chattering.

"I need you...to fuck me...I-I want to experience good dick from a God, please- I can't-" your words slurred as you kept talking, and the room around you became fuzzier by the second. You were dangerously in need of this man inside of you and you needed it now.

He hummed in satisfaction from your response, allowing his two fingers to enter you slowly just to see what would happen. He'd be glad to fulfill your desires, even if you were a traitor to your own realm. But who would he be if you just gave in so easily? You still had to learn your lesson.

You silently cursed the deeper he went. The way you swallowed his fingers was a wonderful sight to him on its own, so he had even more reason to drag this out as long as he wanted to.

"Please- Fuck-" you mumbled, now remembering this wasn't supposed to be a straight up fun time for you. You were still the same one who dared to go against Fire God Liu Kang.

He didn't acknowledge you and just kept going at a slow pace. In, out, in, out. Subconsciously your body lifted to meet his rhythm and get him to somehow get a little deeper, but he pulled back and slapped your ass again.

"You will wait." is all he said, soothing the spot he just hit. You want to cry and throw a tantrum. You'd think the normal way of torture--something like getting beaten up or slapped around for your wrongdoings, maybe even a death threat--would be easier to handle than whatever the fuck this was. He's just too good at this. It made you start to rethink your life decisions.

He fingered you once more, this time faster so you could reach climax quicker. You moaned loudly with every pump, not knowing you'd feel that burn in your abdomen so quick. You pleaded over and over again just for this release.

Right as he felt you squeeze around his fingers...he stopped. There was no time to express the devastation that was the sudden emptiness as he quickly picked you up and pushed you against the nearest wall with your back facing him. You lightly winced at the cold feeling of it pressing against your cheek, but was all too focused on getting demolished.

He pressed himself against you, letting himself hang between your ass to hear you whimper and softly cry. "Some assassin you are. Begging for me to be buried deep inside you, I should've had you beg for your life, but that time has passed, hasn't it?"

He wrapped one arm around you as he quickly and harshly slipped inside without warning, waking you from whatever trance he had you under. He kept his hips still while you adjusted to his size. Everything around you was becoming warped and blurry, there was some drool already forming at the corner of your mouth.

"There was no need to disobey me. Had you expressed this dire need for me before, there would've been a chance at me considering it." he said, pulling back and thrusting into you again with the same force. You cried out in pleasure mixed with pain, but you wanted more. You squirmed in his hold while squeezing against him to signal for him to move. With that action alone, you were met with a dark chuckle behind you.

He gave in this time by moving his hips, but the pace started agonizingly slow. "When I first got word of your treachery, I thought you incorrigible. Now? I should've figured you acted out to get me out of character. Do you regret coming back here to finish me? Hm?"

"N...No..." was really all you could say. Before all of this came to be, you two had fought it out. You were certain you could at least hurt him well enough to report back to Shang Tsung. A small part of you was okay with losing to him though...From the moment his hand was on your throat, your quest to defeat him was a lost cause.

"Didn't think so." he said while increasing the pace. Your legs were on the brink of collapse with how good he felt; him hitting that spot effortlessly.

"Ah! Liu Kang, please-!" you pulled against your restraints, only seconds away from release. Right at the last second, Liu Kang pulled right out, but didn't let go of you. Your eyes were now full of tears once again, being reduced to a sniffling mess. He shushed you as he rubbed circles on your waist.

"Tell me one thing, and you'll have your release." he said, "After today, are you going to come after me again?"

"No! No, I swear, my Lord. I won't do it again! I learned my lesson, please! I'll even break ties with Shang Tsung!" you frantically said. Satisfied with your answer, at the snap of his fingers the chains fell off your wrists and you gasped.

"Perfect." he whispered as he grabbed under your knee and pulled your leg up. Both your hands met the wall to keep balance, and he just shoved himself right back in.

It didn't take you long to cum with how fast and accurately he was hitting your sensitive areas, but he never slowed down. You scratched against the wall as your senses went crazy. Getting fucked through your high by a God was never something you thought would happen in this life, but you're almost glad you pissed him off.

Almost.

After another good 30 seconds, he slowed down and your body was starting to become limp. All your energy reached depletion. He gently lowered your leg and carried you to sit in his lap. He could feel the heat emitting from your skin as he wiped the sweat from your face.

"Worry not, I will take care of you. Just promise not to go behind my back again." he said. You closed your eyes as your head laid upon his chest and whisper,

"Promise."

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #smut #liu kang x reader #liu kang mk1 #liu kang #mk smut #mortal kombat smut

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thecuriousquest · 5 months

Note

B (brand) with yandere sanemi x shy reader ?

The Wind Pillar’s Tsuguko

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, possessive tendencies, controlling tendencies, jealousy, dominant behavior, FULLY CONSENSUAL SEX, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, branding (by sword), blood, spanking threat, minor spanking, nipple play, nudity, coming on someone

Request: “I will engrave myself into your very being.”

Note: You didn’t tell me if you wanted NSFW, SFW, or Platonic Yandere, so I’m doing NSFW because this sounds like a sexy prompt.

Yandere Alphabet Prompt List

Master List

Request Rules

—————————————————————————

As his Tsuguko, you’re expected to train with him for a large portion of the day. Today is a regular day, a fair morning with not too much going on. You meet with Sanemi, sword on your hip, hair pushed back how you usually like it when you’re doing heavy exercises.

“Hello, Mr. Shinazugawa…” You greet him with your eyes cast downwards. You play with your sword’s hilt, acting like you’re looking at something so that you don’t have to look at him.

You’ve never been able to bring yourself to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. Even when you’re in trouble and he has to grip your chin to make you face him, you always end up looking anywhere else but him.

He’ll never admit it, but your timid nature is what drew him in so close like a pheromone.

Sanemi can’t help how the corner of his lips tug upwards. You’re just so adorable, like a little mouse.

“We’re going over defensive techniques today. Have you been working on your breathing?”

You nod instead of giving him a verbal confirmation. It’s not that you hate talking, not exactly. You’re more of a listener. It’s just that when someone looks at you, it makes you want to crawl under a rock, wait for night to fall, and then run to your room and hide under the covers.

Honestly, how have you made it this far in life?

“SANEMI!”

You both look in the direction of the booming voice. Kyojiru strides over to the both of you with that great smile plastered on his face.

“It’s a lovely morning, Sanemi! I see you’re training with your Tsuguko! How are you, young lady?”

You can’t help but hold your bicep, pressing your nails into supple flesh. It creates a canvas of half moons as your eyes fixate on your shoes.

“Hi…Mr. Rengoku. I- I’m okay…thanks.”

“I’m off for a mission! Have a good day, Sanemi. Take care, Y/N!”

His exclamation startles you. By the time you look up, he’s already gone.

What you miss is the way the wind Hashira clenches his teeth at you as you turn your attention away from him.

Sanemi walks towards the training grounds, and you quickly walk after him. You watch as he pulls his sword out, whirling on you without a word indicating the start of your lesson. You immediately block and parry his attack.

“M-Mr. Shinazugawa! Wait!”

“A demon wouldn’t wait. Fight!”

You regulate your breathing, focusing on your wind technique. Concentrating on formations while being attacked has never been your forte, and while Sanemi knows this, he seems to be taking advantage of your weakness right now.

As he runs you down with his sword, he uses his first formation on you. He knocks you on your ass, lunges at you, and swipes the tips of his sword along your thigh.

You watch the blood spilling from that singular slit in your flesh.

“A demon won’t stop when you’re bleeding. Actually, it’ll just make the bastard want to eat you even more,” your teacher reminds you with his back to you.

He turns to you, eyeing you sharply, so you fix your gaze on the dirt beneath you as your blood drips onto the earth.

“Get up, and start using your damn technique,” he pulls you up by your arm none too gently, letting his fingers squeeze just above your elbow before letting go.

As training continues, Sanemi cuts slit after slit into your thigh. You stifle each and every cry of pain. You can’t help but notice he’s keeping his physical attacks on a very specific area of your body.

When the day comes to an end, and you’re in your room in Sanemi’s mansion, you take a good look at your thigh. There’s a large ‘S’ cut into your body, and you can’t help your wide eyes.

You hear banging on your door, and you’re not quick enough to adjust your pants or tell him to wait. The door opens, and you lock eyes with your teacher. You’re horrified that he’s seeing you in your state of undress.

Hands rush to preserve your modesty as you bend slightly to keep him from seeing anything, pressing your thighs together.

“Mr. Shinazugawa! Please, I wasn’t…why didn’t you wait?!”

He simply chuckles and walks in, shutting the door behind himself. The Wind Pillar sets down a bottle of disinfectant along with gauze and a towel on your bed. He walks over to you, pulling you in close by your hips.

“I didn’t know you had such nice curves.”

You don’t think your face could get any hotter than it is right now. You feel as though Mr. Rengoku has used his breathing technique on you, and you want to curl up and die as you keep your hands against your mound.

“Hiding a body like that from me underneath all those baggy clothes and kimonos. You oughta be ashamed of yourself, kid.”

With his hands on your hips, he pushes you towards your bed. You stumble backwards until the pits of your knees hit the bed. Falling on your back, you sit up on your elbows.

Your teacher now stands between your spread legs.

Without thinking much, you squeeze your knees together.

“Mr. Shinazugawa, what’s going on?”

“Come on. Lift your arms up.”

Biting your lip, you choose to obey. With hands above your head, he takes your kimono and shirt off.

You thought your face couldn’t heat up anymore earlier. Now, your cheeks feel akin to an inferno as your tits pop free of your uniform.

“Hmmm…no injuries other than the one on your thigh.” His pointer finger grazes the area he carved his sword into. “I’m sure your ass is pretty bruised from how many times I knocked you on it. Why don’t you turn over and show me?”

Feeling warmth gather not only in your blazing face, but also between your thighs, you squirm to relieve a little bit of the stress budding in your clit. You hope that he thinks you’re just nervous. You really hope he doesn’t catch onto what you’re doing.

You roll over for Sanemi, still squeezing your thighs together, still feeling the throbbing sensation in your walls.

Oh fuck, you’re in so much trouble right now.

Sanemi can’t help himself. He caresses the soft hills of your ass, sporting soft violet and navy bruises from falling so much earlier.

“Rengoku shouldn’t have been running his mouth with you so much.”

Your head perks up. “Huh?”

“Shouldn’t have been acting so friendly with you. Fucking talking to you like you’re his. You know you don’t belong to him.”

He nudges his way between your thighs and can’t help the smirk upon seeing your glistening pussy.

“You know who you belong to. You know who owns you. I don’t have to mark you up to show you that. You know better.”

His fingers gather up your juices, curling inside of you, pumping in and out of you at a furious pace.

“And you know better than to act like such a slut with him. Fuck, if you ever…if you ever so much as even tell him ‘hello’, I will take a switch to your ass. Got it?”

You hump into the bed, stimulating your clit as his digits control you.

“Yes, Mr. Shinazugawa! I understand!”

Wet enough for him, he pulls his hard cock free from his uniform. Sanemi nests himself inside of you, plummeting deeply, harshly, punishingly. He takes hold of your hair and fucks into you, hips bucking.

You mewl on his cock, whining for more.

“Please, Mr. Shinazugawa! I won’t be bad again!”

“You were such a bad girl. Such a fucking bad girl.”

Pouting from his statement, you huff. As he continues to drive forward into you, he toys with you by hitting your come spot only to change angles and stay away from it.

“You’re so mean!” you shout as you stomp your foot.

“Yeah, and you’re a fucking brat.” He sinks his teeth into your neck.

Sanemi’s hand comes down sharply on your upturned ass, one smack after another. Yipping with each onslaught of his palm, you can’t help but arch your back and raise your hips up.

The Hashira slides his hand beneath you, feeling and tweaking your nipples with every thrust of his hips. You can’t take all of the stimulation anymore. The nipple play, the length of his cock, the burn in your backside, the wriggling of your clit against the mattress.

It all ends for you when he goes back to hitting the soft bead embedded in your walls. Your mind goes fuzzy as your lids slowly close, and you fall limp against the bed, breathing heavily into your folded arms.

The Wind Pillar gathers your leg up, hooking it behind him so that he can penetrate you even deeper. He moans your name, elongating the syllables. His voice dripping like droplets of honey from a hive.

Pulling away from you, Sanemi pumps his cock, releasing himself all over your back. He stands tall, letting go of your leg. The scarred man sits down beside you and rests a hand on the back of your neck.

“Don’t let me catch you talking with Rengoku again. I will engrave myself into your very being if that’s what it takes to get it through your fucking skull that you’re mine.”

Taking some time to recover, you finally pick your head up enough to nod and answer him clearly. “Yes, Mr. Shinazugawa.”

“Good. Let’s get you cleaned up and bandaged then.”

#triggering content #triggering themes #yandere themes #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x willing reader #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer #yandere sanemi shinazugawa #yandere sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa

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louloulemons-posts · 9 months

Text

Celestial Love

Steve Harrington x drunk!reader

Summary : Just Steve looking after his drunk partner.

Word Count : 1k

Warnings : Not proofread, once again written in the middle of the night, talks of alcohol and being drunk, steve taking care of reader, pure fluff, reader wears makeup but she/her pronouns aren’t used, y/n used a few times, just steve being a good boyfriend.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was a summer, there were parties happening all the time. You didn’t go to many, but as your friends, and boyfriend were going you decided to tag along.

It had been fun, you didn’t have to worry about highschool anymore. And huge celebrations were in order as one of your best friends, Eddie had graduated. Third time lucky, you’d told him.

However, you were now feeling more than just a buzz from the alcohol. After a game of truth or dare, and many many shots you had wandered away from your friends.

Your alcohol hazed mind needed go and see the stars apparently. Steve, your boyfriend, has barely left your side all night, but he needed to run to the bathroom. You found your time to slip away.

There was a cool, crisp breeze. The Autumn wind slowly blowing in, during the later days of August. The sky was clear, stars shining brightly and a crescent moon sat silently, looking down at you.

“Wow,” you sighed to yourself, perching on a chair. Letting your head drop back against the seat, you smiled up at the sparkling sky. It was beautiful.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Walking back into the party, Steve rejoined your group. He quickly realised someone was missing. His favourite person. He looked at Eddie, “Hey where’s Y/N?” he asked the curly haired boy.

“They were just,” Eddies words were cut off in confusion, “They were right next to me!” Steve instantly went into panic, anything could have happened to you.

“How the hell could you lose them? I was gone for 2 minutes!” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked.

“Y/N. Have you seen them?” The metalhead questioned.

Robin hiccuped, she was a lightweight, “T-they um … said something about needing to see the stars,” she slurred. Steve set off straight away, knowing exactly where you were.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You sat silently just looking up. In complete awe, until you heard you name. “Jesus baby, gave me a heart attack. Why’d you wonder off?”

“Stevie!” You squealed standing up, wrapping your arms around your boyfriends neck. “Look!” You extended your arm to the sky, swinging your head back, “‘t’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah baby it’s beautiful.” He wasn’t looking at the sky, he was looking at you. “We should get home don’t you think?”

“Why?” you cocked your head, almost like an inquisitive puppy dog. “Well I think bed sounds really nice. Don’t you think, we can get cosy and cuddle up.”

You hummed and leaned into him, “Sounds great Stevie.” He pecked the top of your head, soft lips touching your hair. “Let’s get going then.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After saying goodbye to your friends and finally coaxing you into the car after you complained you wouldn’t be able to see the stars. You were finally home.

Stumbling as you pushed yourself out of the car, Steve caught your waist. Letting out a drunken cackle as you wobbled. “Careful Sweet one.”

Helping you into the house, you suddenly had a burst of energy. Singing Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears loudly. “Something happens and I’m head over heels,” you sang off key.

“Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” Steve led you to the bathroom closest to his room. “I never find out til I’m head over heels,” you sung at a more regulated level now.

“Guess what?” you said to Steve.

“What baby?”

“I’m head over heels,” it was a matter of fact statement. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Head over heels for you~”

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m head over heels for you too.”You let out a gasp as if it was something you didn’t know.

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Wow.”

“I know crazy right. Now can you hop up on the counter, need to clean your makeup off.”

He helped you get on the side next to the sink and pulled out a packet of cotton pads and a makeup remover he’d seen you use many times before. He had a habit of leaning against the bathroom door, just watching you.

“Close you eyes for me baby.” You complied with ease, feeling the cold pad touch your eyes, making you shiver. Letting out a giggle, Steve apologised quietly. “‘t’s okay Stevie.”

Soon enough he’d cleaned your entire face off, making sure not to rub too hard. “What do you normally use after this?”

“Can just use the moisturiser tonight, don’t wanna do all the steps.”

He picked up a small pink tub, unscrewing the lid. Taking small dollops and placing them on different parts of your face. He rubbed them in carefully, you hummed, almost purring.

“Feel nice?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you replied, opening your eyes to meet his pretty brown ones. Putting your face products away he led you to the bedroom.

You lay on the bed, letting out a sigh as he went to his draws. He passed you a pair of shorts your favourite tee of his. “Can you put these on whilst I get you some water?”

“M’kay.” You took the soft material in your hands, pulling off your own clothes and underwear. Replacing them with Steve own, just after you pulled down the shirt he appeared. “Feeling comfy?”

“So comfy.”

“Good I’m glad. Can you take these for me? Don’t want you to have a poorly head in the morning.” Handing you two pills you popped them into your mouth, accepting the water with a thanking smile.

“Can we cuddle now?”

“I’ve just gotta get my pyjamas on, you get into bed.”

You did as he said, climbing under the covers, snuggling down. They smelt of Steve, his woody cologne, faint smell of hairspray and other products he used.

Soon enough he’d joined you, “Hey there,” he smiled, kissing your forehead. “Hello.”

“Feeling sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his arms to you, “Come here.”

Laying your head on his chest, legs tangling with each other, and arms wrapped around lightly. “Goodnight baby,” he spoke, panting with your hair lightly. “Night Stevie.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” you mumbled, sleep already taking over. He huffed a laugh, kissing your head fondly.

“I love you more than you love the moon and stars. Love you more than the universe.”

Turning the light down to a dim setting in case you woke up and were confused, Steve closed his own eyes, following you to dreamland.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #joe keery imagines #joe keery #stranger things #stranger things imagine #louloulemons #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington fanficton #oneshot #fluff #imagine

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

Text

An interoperability rule for your money

This is the final weekend to back the Kickstarter campaign for the audiobook of my next novel, The Lost Cause. These kickstarters are how I pay my bills, which lets me publish my free essays nearly every day. If you enjoy my work, please consider backing!

"If you don't like it, why don't you take your business elsewhere?" It's the motto of the corporate apologist, someone so Hayek-pilled that they see every purchase as a ballot cast in the only election that matters – the one where you vote with your wallet.

Voting with your wallet is a pretty undignified way to go through life. For one thing, the people with the thickest wallets get the most votes, and for another, no matter who you vote for in that election, the Monopoly Party always wins, because that's the part of the thick-wallet set.

Contrary to the just-so fantasies of Milton-Friedman-poisoned bootlickers, there are plenty of reasons that one might stick with a business that one dislikes – even one that actively harms you.

The biggest reason for staying with a bad company is if they've figured out a way to punish you for leaving. Businesses are keenly attuned to ways to impose switching costs on disloyal customers. "Switching costs" are all the things you have to give up when you take your business elsewhere.

Businesses love high switching costs – think of your gym forcing you to pay to cancel your subscription or Apple turning off your groupchat checkmark when you switch to Android. The more it costs you to move to a rival vendor, the worse your existing vendor can treat you without worrying about losing your business.

Capitalists genuinely hate capitalism. As the FBI informant Peter Thiel says, "competition is for losers." The ideal 21st century "market" is something like Amazon, a platform that gets 45-51 cents out of every dollar earned by its sellers. Sure, those sellers all compete with one another, but no matter who wins, Amazon gets a cut:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Think of how Facebook keeps users glued to its platform by making the price of leaving cutting of contact with your friends, family, communities and customers. Facebook tells its customers – advertisers – that people who hate the platform stick around because Facebook is so good at manipulating its users (this is a good sales pitch for a company that sells ads!). But there's a far simpler explanation for peoples' continued willingness to let Mark Zuckerberg spy on them: they hate Zuck, but they love their friends, so they stay:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

One of the most important ways that regulators can help the public is by reducing switching costs. The easier it is for you to leave a company, the more likely it is they'll treat you well, and if they don't, you can walk away from them. That's just what the Consumer Finance Protection Bureau wants to do with its new Personal Financial Data Rights rule:

https://www.consumerfinance.gov/about-us/newsroom/cfpb-proposes-rule-to-jumpstart-competition-and-accelerate-shift-to-open-banking/

The new rule is aimed at banks, some of the rottenest businesses around. Remember when Wells Fargo ripped off millions of its customers by ordering its tellers to open fake accounts in their name, firing and blacklisting tellers who refused to break the law?

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2016/10/07/497084491/episode-728-the-wells-fargo-hustle

While there are alternatives to banks – local credit unions are great – a lot of us end up with a bank by default and then struggle to switch, even though the banks give us progressively worse service, collectively rip us off for billions in junk fees, and even defraud us. But because the banks keep our data locked up, it can be hard to shop for better alternatives. And if we do go elsewhere, we're stuck with hours of tedious clerical work to replicate all our account data, payees, digital wallets, etc.

That's where the new CFPB order comes in: the Bureau will force banks to "share data at the person’s direction with other companies offering better products." So if you tell your bank to give your data to a competitor – or a comparison shopping site – it will have to do so…or else.

Banks often claim that they block account migration and comparison shopping sites because they want to protect their customers from ripoff artists. There are certainly plenty of ripoff artists (notwithstanding that some of them run banks). But banks have an irreconcilable conflict of interest here: they might want to stop (other) con-artists from robbing you, but they also want to make leaving as painful as possible.

Instead of letting shareholder-accountable bank execs in back rooms decide what the people you share your financial data are allowed to do with it, the CFPB is shouldering that responsibility, shifting those deliberations to the public activities of a democratically accountable agency. Under the new rule, the businesses you connect to your account data will be "prohibited from misusing or wrongfully monetizing the sensitive personal financial data."

This is an approach that my EFF colleague Bennett Cyphers and I first laid our in our 2021 paper, "Privacy Without Monopoly," where we describe how and why we should shift determinations about who is and isn't allowed to get your data from giant, monopolistic tech companies to democratic institutions, based on privacy law, not corporate whim:

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

The new CFPB rule is aimed squarely at reducing switching costs. As CFPB Director Rohit Chopra says, "Today, we are proposing a rule to give consumers the power to walk away from bad service and choose the financial institutions that offer the best products and prices."

The rule bans banks from charging their customers junk fees to access their data, and bans businesses you give that data to from "collecting, using, or retaining data to advance their own commercial interests through actions like targeted or behavioral advertising." It also guarantees you the unrestricted right to revoke access to your data.

The rule is intended to replace the current state-of-the-art for data sharing, which is giving your banking password to third parties who go and scrape that data on your behalf. This is a tactic that comparison sites and financial dashboards have used since 2006, when Mint pioneered it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/12/mint-late-stage-adversarial-interoperability-demonstrates-what-we-had-and-what-we

A lot's happened since 2006. It's past time for American bank customers to have the right to access and share their data, so they can leave rotten banks and go to better ones.

The new rule is made possible by Section 1033 of the Consumer Financial Protection Act, which was passed in 2010. Chopra is one of the many Biden administrative appointees who have acquainted themselves with all the powers they already have, and then used those powers to help the American people:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

It's pretty wild that the first digital interoperability mandate is going to come from the CFPB, but it's also really cool. As Tim Wu demonstrated in 2021 when he wrote Biden's Executive Order on Promoting Competition in the American Economy, the administrative agencies have sweeping, grossly underutilized powers that can make a huge difference to everyday Americans' lives:

https://www.eff.org/de/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/21/let-my-dollars-go/#personal-financial-data-rights

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: Steve Morgan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:U.S._National_Bank_Building_-_Portland,_Oregon.jpg

Stefan Kühn (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Abrissbirne.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

Rhys A. (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/rhysasplundh/5201859761/in/photostream/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #cfpb #interoperability mandates #mint #scraping #apis #privacy #privacy without monopoly #consumer finance protection bureau #Personal Financial Data Rights #interop #data hoarding #junk fees #switching costs #section 1033 #interoperability

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aesthetic-bbyg · 4 months

Note

might I request 🫣

an Usopp x ditsy y/n where the reader is.. 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑚, busty, to say the least, and always clings to him (sort of like how Nami does), albeit unaware that the behavior seems to always fluster him

And maybe they end up paired together when everyone splits up to fight someone or whatever, and Uso pulls them aside to hide, obviously, but in a bit of tight spot?

you can edit this however you like, thank you for reading!!

A DAMSAL IN DISTRESS - USOPP

usopp x ditzy,fem!reader

IN WHICH you can’t help but cling onto Usopp, he’s just so cute.

nattie speaks!: AHHHHH I’m so sorry for the wait, I felt so bad that this took way longer then expected so some parts were a bit rushed and a bit shitty🫣🫣. Also, I gave the reader this power, basically like a banshee, she screams and it’s a weapon. It’s only included in a small portion bc I wanted to stay close to what the anon requested!!

USOPP WASNT SURE IF HIS BAD habit of lying constantly was currently a blessing or a curse. You took interest in him after he’d rambled on about escaping the large beast of the sea, the Kraken. Since then you’ve been—he didn’t want to be rude and say obsessive, so..clingy. He’d somehow managed to capture you’re attention with his false stories. You nodded dumbly with big eyes as he dramatized yet another tale, waving his hands around like a maniac while you just giggled.

“Uh-huh, what after?” You leaned closer across the table curiously, your cheek falling to rest on the palm of your hand.

“Then, I took my sword and I sliced his ass from head to toe.” Usopp smirked triumphantly, sucking in a deep breath and releasing as he fell back against the chair. “And that’s the story of how I defeated the monster of the Blue Lagoon.”

“No way!” You gasped, eyes wide with such content, completely unaware of how close your tits were to spilling out of your top. Truth be told, Usopp had dragged out the story as long as possible to see the moment a nipple peaked out. He swallowed before he chuckled, eyes flickering between your bright smile and bouncing breast. “You’re so brave, Uso.” You stood from your seat, walking over to give him a peck on the cheek. “How ‘bout I go get food for my brave Captain, hmm?”

Usopp never nodded his head so quick, both out of being very hungry and because he needed a breather. You had made him so ridiculously flustered, he nearly forgotten to take in air with how close you were. The moment you footsteps faded to enter the kitchen he let out a large sigh. His senses struggling to regulate, all he could think about was you. The sticky gloss that clung to his skin, the sweet scent you left behind, the echo of your giggles in his mind.

He needed to get a grip before he literally exploded. The next few days to Arlong Park would be hell if he couldn’t learn to control himself when around you. But he just couldn’t figure out how it was possible to do that when you pranced around in such low cut shirts and tight bottoms. He didn’t have much time to think about it before you were back, holding two servings of food. You placed it on the large crate that laid between the two of you.

“What did Sanji make?” Usopp questioned, mustering up to the most normal smile he could give.

“Some sort of pasta, dunno, wasn’t really attention.” You shrugged casually, handing him a shimmering silver fork. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you went unaware of the stolen glances Usopp took of you. He paid far too much attention to your features, especially your most prominent one..but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

You were close to opening your mouth and breaking the silence before Zoro came up, plopping a whiny Buggy between your plates.

“Usopps turn, I’m done.” The swordsman muttered annoyingly, walking away without another word.

“Hey—what!” Usopp shouted back to Zoro, his calls being ignored as the the blue-haired clown chuckled.

“Hiya, pal, nice to see you!” The clown exclaimed with an overly happy tone. “Tell me, have, have you boned pretty babe over here or wh—“

Usopp clamped his hand over the clown mouth, embarrassingly looking over at you, your eyes held an innocent confusion as you stood. “I’ll go ahead and take these to the kitchen, be back!”

Usopp nodded with a smile, waiting for you to be out of ear shot before uncovering Buggy’s mouth. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Shut up.” Usopp mumbled with a flushed face, hiding it by fiddling with his slingshot.

“Oh, c’mon, she’s totally into you and it super fuckin’ obvious in case you couldn’t already see.” The clown commented, “And, hey, I’m not one to give relationship in advice here but you should bone her—“

“Can you stop saying that.” The man snapped quietly as he noticed you approaching. You didn’t sit down, instead placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

“It’s getting dark, Uso, ya wanna head in?” You asked softly, eyes glowing curiously in the moonlight. You shared a space with Nami, but ever since she left you’d didn’t liked sleeping in that empty bed. Instead, you slept next to Usopp every night.

It came as a surprise at first. The midnight sky had caused a dark hue to blanket over the ship. The moon hidden behind indigo clouds, only a few strings of light guided you down to the boy’s chambers. You’d pushed Usopps door open, thankful that it didn’t creak loudly, and slowly entered. You footsteps patting against the hardwood floor, hands out in front of you to navigate the darkness until you felt a soft cushion. You peeled back the blanket and climbed in, without a care in the world except for finding some warmth.

Usopp had felt the bed shift, covers shuffling without him moving which is what caused him to fully awake. He panicked at first, not moving an inch as the person beside him got comfortable. It was until he felt you soft hands caress up his bicep, bare legs entangling with his own, then a sweet sigh that tickled his neck. After a few moments he heard nothing, just your deep breaths as he laid there, completely clueless on what to do. Should he hold you? But that would wake you again wouldn’t it? He chose to go to sleep and see what the next morning held.

And if Usopp wasn’t flustered enough already the next day he was practically dead. Your position had switched in the middle of the night, and so did his. Ass against his hips, his arm draped over your waist, and you back against his firm chest. He wasn’t sure how you two needed in this position but every morning now was like this.

Usopp determined that the best way to continue this routine was if Buggy’s head was shoved into a empty barrel and left there for the night.

“You better bone her if your leaving here—“ The clown angrily shouted before his voice was muffled by the lid sliding over the open top. Usopp let out a sigh, walking over to the sleeping quarters below deck where you’d already gone to get changed for bed.

Your head quirked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, smiling softly at the sight of him. “We’re nearly there, Uso. It’s best that you get some sleep for the rest of the journey.”

Usopp nodded in agreement, removing his shirt like he always did before bed and climbing into the covers. You shouldn’t be so excited as you are each time you cuddle close to him. It shouldn’t be so rewarded to feel him so close to you as you drift to sleep. Usopp was suppose to be your fellow crew member and nothing more. Yet there was an undeniable feeling that made you cling to him. It made you giddy.

Unbeknownst to you, these feelings struck Usopp tenfold.

“LAND HO!” USOPP EXCLAIMED, ARM raising to point to a spec of land from afar. You lifted your head, squinting to see the bundled up islands from you spot. As you got closer it looked like nothing almost, and when the boat docked it was even worse. The small village looked abandoned, old homes falling apart and grey in color. Most of the plants around were dead, drained of their natural color. One home was even raised above the grown, ripped from the floor and left to rot mid air.

This is when things started to blur together. One moment, you watch in fear, clinging onto Usopps arms. He’s a brave warrior, you thought, surely he’d protect you against the strange atmosphere that this place brought. But the next you were sprinting into the woods, just behind Usopp as a fish man with strangely large lips chased after you.

It was a fight you had no idea on how to win. They were fishman, some of the strongest beings of the world, and here you were running away from one. Even worse, the fish with the huge lips was able to spit out fire with just a sip of his hard drink. There was more than enough evidence to prove that you were screwed.

The boy in front of you turned around, quickly tugging your arm and pulling close, ducked down, rolling to hide behind a fallen tree. You fell atop of Usopp, panting heavily as fishman’s spits barley flew over your head. All went quiet, weirdly quiet but you didn’t dare even blink loudly.

“Hey.” Usopp whispered as you lifted your head from his chest. “Ya think you can scream for me, pretty girl?” You swallowed thickly, nodding, the pure terror of the approaching footsteps muting your voice. “Then wait for my signal, ‘kay.”

Usopp shuffled from under, making it more comfortable for the both, well, mostly you. Being within such a close proximity of your soft skin made him nervous, no amount of comfort was able to calm his nerves. But he ignored the squeezable skin that pressed against his chest, ignored that your core that was hovering just above his dick, ignored the grip on his bicep. He looked at you, waiting for the right moment to give you the sign so the fishman went down once and for all.

You were terrified, that was for sure, but you mustered up some courage to pull the plan off. You felt a tap on your hand, causing to rise up and stare directly at the fishman. But before he could open fire you let out a ear piercing shriek. A wail so loud it launched the fish man backwards. Far enough so he was too distracted in getting up and gaining back his senses to realize that Usopp was sneaking in.

You watched, wide eyed as the fishman sat up, bottle still tightly in his clutch. Usopp loaded in his new invention into his slingshot and directly hit the alcohol. A loud explosion followed, smoke clearing to reveal a motionless fishman.

You laughed in a relief, standing up and slowly approaching the scene.

Usopp shouts in excitement, proudly chuckling at the sight of the smoking body laid motionless on the ground. “Yeah! Take that! The Great Captain Usopp fells yet another notorious villain!” He swallows back his heavy breaths, glancing around. “And..no one’s around to see it.”

“I saw it, Uso!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him with a giggle. The sheer force of your excitement gave you enough strength to drag him down into your chest. His whole face making contact with your tits while you rambled in content. “Just as brave as you tell in your stories! Gosh, I can’t wait tell everyone how you saved me.” You pull his head up, planting kisses along his cheeks.

The boy puffed his chest out pridefully, smirking despite the blush that littered his cheeks. “What can I say, a great Captain like me never fails to save a damsel in distress.” He hooked an arm around your waist, gazing down at you.

“A reward is much needed after this.” You Pat his chest, smiling softly with such a innocent yet antagonizing look. Without another word, you’d pulled away, waking back in the direction Arlong park.

Usopp stared at your fading figure with furrowed brows. “A reward?”

OMG THIS TOOK WAY TO LONG BUT I WAS LITERALLY GOING BACK ND FORTH W THIS FIC BC I FELT LIKE IT WAS SOO BAD. But I need to release smth so this is it!! I really hoped this lived up to the request, ik i added some of my own elements but ignore that🫣

(sucks dick coquettely)

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece show #straw hats #usopp x reader #usopp #jacob romero gibson #Jacob Romero #agent 00 lookin ahh #but he’s so fiiiine #i’m actually losing it #I need him #he needs me #HIS BICEPS BRO #LIKE I WANT TO LICK THEM #UGHHH #send help #one piece imagine #captain usopp

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kisakis-boyfriend · 8 days

Note

Okayyyyy but what about CNC with Kisaki and Hanma?🤭

~💙

YES YES YES–

Hanma during a CNC session:

Mr. Eager Beaver over here

He is totally down for something like this; whether you want to be rough and mean, or soft and loving

Please be rough with him though? 🥺

Shuji is into all sorts of dangerous/fucked up kinks. As long as you have a safe word/signal ready, you can do anything to him 💛

Press a knife against his throat while you tear his clothing off, or maybe use the knife to cut open his underwear

I hope you like play fighting, because Shuji will make you work for control. He's going to fight back until you restrain him and fuck away his attitude

You'll more than likely end up throwing him around at first

Bringing him out of that headspace/out of the scene has to be a gradual process. You can't just flip a switch and start acting normal

Gradually tone down your aggression or harsh words and mix in a few backhanded compliments until Shuji visibly relaxes

Then, after some time, praise him for being so good for you. Give him so many hugs and allow him to act clingy and vulnerable 💛

Kisaki during a CNC session:

Very reluctant to try it at first, but if it's with you... maybe it would be ok?

It's not something he wants to do often, but the occasional scene is fine

When you push inside and tell him "M'sorry baby, I just needed you so badly... Can't help myself" 👌👌👌

Kisaki likes the kind of cnc scenes where you're just so turned on by him/desperate to have him that you don't even wait. You just start touching and kissing and grabbing and sliding in and thrusting and-

Allowing himself to be vulnerable and like prey is... a strange feeling, to say the least. Some part of him enjoys letting go though. Letting someone else have control in such a way — something that he's never done before, it's kind of nice every now and then

Tetta is also incredibly clingy after it's over. Please allow him to be, he's not the best at regulating his emotions 🥺

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justanothercloudinthesky · 1 year

Text

You Lash Out PT2

Hello! Sorry for the delay, Life has been insane, anyway

Notes: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attack, Crying,

Izuku:

The door seemed to stare Izuku back as he stood infront of it. The fresh sting of your words, and confusion swirling with panic as his own breath hitched. Searching for something to say, as if the perfect words could be pulled from thin air, yet nothing came out. You really weren't doing too much better, on the other side of the door, pacing (a habit in which you've picked up from Izuku.)

The tension seemed to slowly ease on your side of the door, as the silence and calm helped collect your thoughts and regulate your emotions. Izuku's back resting against the wall as he waited, growing into a higher and higher panic as every minute passed, yet he couldn't bring himself to do, or try to help, any more. It was your voice that reached his ears and brought him to action again.

"Izu? It's... not locked." you stated hesitantly, subtly kicking yourself for the words you'd previous said. Soon the boy on the other side of the door walked in, leaning against the doorframe as he scanned the room, before his gaze landed on you. It had been quite a while since you'd seen that level of pure distress burdening his face, lips pressed together and cheeks wet with tears.

"Let's talk" you said softly, patting the bed next to you. Watching as he slowly walked over, sitting down next to you but keeping his eyes forward. The awkward tension between the two was almost tangible, before you finally moved. Shocking Izuku with your head on his shoulder, and hand tucked in yours.

"I'm sorry I said that, I was overwhelmed and lashed out instead of telling you what the issue was," you started, not meeting his gaze which was now focused on you. Your nerves getting the better of you as you scrambled on words to say next

"I was just trying to help, I... hate seeing you suffer alone." Izuku started, his thumb now running over your knuckles.

"I... was going to come to you, but sometimes words aren't the best ways to check on me?... I was... really overwhelmed Izuku, and the best way you could've been there for me... was like this." you said, lifting up your combined hands before gently kissing his fingers. Your gaze still not meeting his. "It's not just hand-holding, sometimes I just need someone to listen, or stay in silence with me. I need to communicate what I need better too..."

Izuku's lips met your temple, as he stayed there a few moments, silencing your words. before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry I pushed when you weren't ready, and I forgive you completely. I just hope that you can forgive me too." Your nod in response lightening his heart as he wrapped an arm around you, just holding you close. For even when there are fights, Izuku will never let that get in the way of his care for you, and he's willing to stick through it, even when things get rough.

Bakugo:

"oh my gosh, oh my gosh-" you breathed to yourself, sobs racking your body as it sunk more into the floor. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want him to ever doubt that you would run away. But you just had. The thoughts pounded in your head over and over again, not even thinking to open the door, the fear that Bakugo had just... left.

"I need you to listen to me."

His voice cut through the noise, not angry, but firm and direct as you listened yet couldn't stop your sobbing. lips trembling as you nodded, not that he could see. "I need you to breathe" he directed, as his forehead pressed harder against the door, now squatted down so you could hear him better. your hands shaking as you whispered out, praying he could hear you

"I can't, Kat-"

"Believe me, you can. Now c'mon, breathe in-" His voice grounded you as you followed his instruction, the fears taking a backseat in your mind as reality became more clear. the shame you felt knawing away at you as you reached up, clicking the lock to the door open and twisting the handle.

"I'm so sorry Katsuki" you cried, reaching out for him as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, holding you safe. your fingers clasping tightly onto his shirt as he buried his face into your shoulder. Instead of calming down in the presence of your loved one, your cries grew louder.

"I'm sorry, I said I'd leave, I'll never leave and what if..." you wheezed out, holding him as you cried,

"what's gotten into you... hey- look at me." Bakugo's voice cut through the noise once again, as his crimson eyes stared into your own, hands on your shoulders as his brow wrinkled in worry. Meeting his eyes was both comfort and agony combined.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, what if... you don't forgive me for what I said?" You whimpered, new tears springing loose. before you could even process what happened your face gently met bakugo's shoulder as he held you tightly. "that's a load of crap, I hope you know that. How many times have you forgiven me for being an ass? and this time you were... right, y'know" he whispered, breath hitting your ear.

"we can talk about this again later, cause... I never want you to be scared like that. I'm not going anywhere"

Tag: @4evahevah @frostynight0265

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 10 months

Text

aaron warner x ferrars! reader pt. 4

(continuation from part three)

who knew running a new country was so hard? spoiler alert: apparently everyone but you and your sister. your asylum days never looked so simple.

a/n: hi… i’m back 🔥🔥 i’d like to start by apologizing for the stupid long wait. it was unfair to my readers and i swear i had no intention to leave people waiting. i genuinely forget sometimes people really like my writing </3 and i truly am grateful to the people who read. let’s jus say i have been busy and yet so unmotivated for the littlest things. i won’t bore w the details i’m sure y’all are jus happy i finally posted part 4. again REALLY sorry for the wait and pls enjoy. also now adding borders to my fics (ill edit the old ones too)

word count: 9k

warnings: few plot changes, fights and feuds, violence and blood mention, castle slander, angst, buzzcut aaron 😣😣😣

things were finally looking up for the rebellion. you'd manage to overthrow the supreme commander and his army, the reestablishment no longer ruled over your part of the land - making it open to new possibilities of government.

you never wished you paid attention in your social studies classes until now.

there were so many regulations you had to learn, matters you had to discuss, and, of course, the never-ending paperwork. your least favorite part. it didn't help you were behind on learning the fancy terminology for topics. 'can't people ever just say what they mean?'

juliette's optimism for being a leader was diminishing every time she had to meet with castle on strategy. he poorly disguised his disapproval of leadership upon every encounter.

but you learned to ignore it along the way. it wasn't as if he was ever the perfect leader either, plus you'd get the gist of the whole leadership thing soon. you silently prayed.

in the midst of all the responsibilities, you had to keep aaron from killing kenji most of the time. they were originally getting on somewhat friendly enough terms, but that was before the incident occurred.

that day, kenji barged in with urgency into your room as you were looking over papers. he went on to say there was a 'serious' problem, and you worriedly assumed it had to do with the reestablishment. but it instead involved your boyfriend.

"seriously kenji? i thought we were under attack or someone died!"

"someone will die if you don't handle your boyfriend right now. hopefully better than you've been handling being supreme comm-" kenji was cut off by the click of a gun.

"i dare you to finish your sentence."

with the barrel to his head, kenji quickly defended his words with the barrel to his head. aaron and him bickered back and forth. kenji turned to you for help, but all you did was shrug and mouth 'karma.' then he hit kenji's head with said gun.

"okay, that's enough, can someone explain to me what the issue is here?"

"this is the issue." aaron then turned to reveal chunks of different sizes along the back of his head. you gasp at his ruined hair.

"oh my god, kenji what the hell did you do?"

"i gave him a trim just like he asked!"

this made another argument burst out between the two. kenji denying his mistake and aaron picking the gun back up and threatening to kill him.

"aaron put the gun down."

aaron reluctantly does so, but his glare at kenji doesn't drop.

"phew, thanks, princess."

"kenjii since you "trimmed" warner's hair, i think it's only fair that he does the same to yours." you proclaim.

kenji looks toward you in horror, "no way!"

aaron wastes no time in going to the bathroom and returning with a razor. he gives him a terrifying smile, "i'm only going to trim the edges."

kenji bolted out of the room a second later, complaining about favoritism on the way out.

aaron ended up having no choice but to shave the rest of his hair, leaving him with a military-style buzz cut. you would mourn the longer hair, but truthfully, it did nothing to tarnish his looks.

sector 45, after sending several invitations, finally received a rvsp for an international leadership conference held at your sector. from oceania, is what delalieu told you and juliette.

you started to come to the realization about the lack of history you knew about warner. sure, you knew him deeply now, but you knew so little about his past. castle made it evident when he mentioned to you and juliette his possible connection to oceania's leaders. castle, annoyingly, did not disclose anymore and insisted aaron needed to be the one to tell. yet, he judged how little you both knew about oceania.

warner being immersed into his work left little time for that. while aaron had been helpful in your learning some etiquettes, he'd been closing off his emotions since he father's death. even after many attempts of trying to get him to open up, he vowed he was okay. you had a slim to none chance of prying information about oceania from him.

you felt lost and angry. for being supreme commanders, you and juliette seemed to be almost always out of the loop. castle regarded you as experiments, seeing how two naive teenage girls could survive being leaders. the rest of the world wasn't any different.

you offered the idea of just reading castle's mind, but juliette thought it could lead to mistrust toward you. she believed you both needed to remain calm for the moment, which is what you have done so far. but you were getting a bit bitter playing nice for so long.

at times you felt juliette left you of the leadership issues. she insisted to be the one to tackle meetings and discussion with castle, she sometimes gave answers before even discussing it with you, and even delalieu seemed to report everything to her first before it got to you. you would never bring it up, and just wrote it off as her still getting the hang of everything. but in the back of your mind you worried it was only a foreshadow.

on the way to see the new headquarters, castle rushed to you. he begged you and juliette to reconsider taking warner with you to greet the guest downstairs. you had no clue what he was on about, but played along and told him warner wasn't needed. you quickly caught on to the situation.

you rushed back to your room, put on what you deemed appropriate clothing and freshened up your hair and face. you were still putting on your shoes when you left.

on the way, you thought about how odd it was juliette didn't even bother to inform you. even if you were busy, you both had pagers to contact one another for important events such as this one.

you hear sounds of greetings as you approach the reception. you luckily hadn't missed out on much.

you see kenji along side juliette and feel a pang of betrayal. juliette was subtly shocked and kenji was confused to see you. but you cover it up with a smile as you turn to see the guest.

"apologies for my delay, i was held up with some prior matters." you hold a hand out, "it's a pleasure to meet you, i'm y/n."

the guest introduces himself as haider, and you can't help but notice a glint of recognition as he looks you over.

but that was forgotten as you came to find out haider wasn't aware of the fact sector 45 had another supreme commander as it wasn't mentioned on the invitation. you told him it must've been a mistake, but you threw a questioning glance to juliette.

you felt yourself get lost as the meeting when on. haider didn’t make it discreet he knew warner very well. he made a brief comment on his relationship with the other supreme commander children.

“i’ve got to say, when i first heard about warner being involved with a girl — i had strong doubts. he has never been the relationship type. unless you count lena. oh, but i’m sure you know all about her by now. they were together for almost two-years after all.”

you had no idea who lena was, but you had a strong sense you wouldn’t like the answer. haider had obviously knew this, and faked ignorance with his comment.

“oh. he hasn’t mentioned his ex-girl friend?”

your heart dropped. you glanced at kenji and juliette from the side of your eyed and they held the same face of surprise. you did your best to remain unphased with a polite smile.

“must’ve just not been important enough to discuss. like right now. i’d prefer if we got back on track of the topic instead of digging into my personal relations.”

if haider was impressed or offended he didn’t show and shifted subjects. you tried your best to listen in as juliette spoke with him about dinner, but the thought of warner having an ex-girlfriend floated around in your mind for the rest of the meeting.

the second haider left the room, and you all burst into a discussion for the next step. dinner would be in less than an hour, and you were still filled in with little to no information about haider and his intentions. you knew the next step would be for you to talk to aaron about it, but you weren’t sure you could be alone with him with this newfound information about his past. you got juliette and kenji to come along with you to question him under the excuse that it would be easier than relaying whatever he told you.

before you three could do that, you didn’t forget their actions before this meeting. you knew it would be the worst time to discuss especially with how limited time was, but you spoke without thinking when you saw juliette heading towards the door.

“why didn’t you tell me about this meeting?”

she sighs and brushes you off saying it wasn’t the most important subject right now. but you already begin, so you thought you might as well get some answers, and pushed her for an explanation.

“we’re suppose to be in this together, how could you leave me in the dark—”

“because i didn’t think you could handle it, and quite frankly, castle agreed with me.”

“what?” you were dumfounded by her response.

“you’ve been so unruly lately, and i get it doing this whole supreme commander thing has been challenging — but i couldn’t afford anything with this meeting.”

“unruly? just because i don’t want to listen to every little thing castle says. news flash, he’s made it quite clear he doesn’t support us leading sector 45.”

“he knows far more than us, we should take what he says wisely.”

“j has a point y/n, castle has a lot of experience—” kenji intercepts.

“shut up! you’re just as guilty as juliette. i thought we were friends and then you help juliette hide this meeting from me!” you spit at kenji.

he stays silent, for once. but it says more than enough for you. you turn your bitterness back to your sister.

“was it his idea to only put down you as the supreme commander on the invitations, too?”

“yes.” she reluctantly admits. “castle wasn’t sure if the idea of two supreme commanders would go well over with orher sectors. i swear, y/n, i only found out once they were already sent.”

you didn’t care for reasoning. you were angry at it all. “i agreed to do this for you! it was you wanted us to do this together! ”

“and maybe i’m starting to regret that.”

your face dropped. juliette’s eyes widened as she realized the weight of her words. but it was too late to apologize.

you scoff, “alright. fine. go ahead and do it yourself. go and question warner about haider yourself and talk to castle and beg for his help for dinner. because i’m done being supreme commander. but it’s not like i ever was, right?”

you can’t help but leave a final comment before you stalk out the door, “you know what’s funny? i found out about the meeting because castle wanted me to tell you to not do it on your own, to bring warner, he said. guess you’re unruly to him too.”

with limited options of locations juliette, kenji, or warner wouldn’t be able to find you, you had to resort to being hiding in your old room you were once held captive in.

now less clouded by anger, you facepalmed yourself. perhaps just quitting being supreme commander had been a rash decision. you weren’t even quite sure if you could just quit like that. but you would rather be jobless than take back your words to juliette.

maybe she was right, you are quite unruly. but you had no plans to admit it to her.

you thought back to aaron. you wanted his comfort, but you still were upset about the ex-girlfriend situation. even if you said it was important, you had somewhat of a right to know when your boyfriend was in a past relationship.

you hated how castle was right about how much you lack knowledge about aaron’s history. and you know you should probably be there with kenji and juliette talking to aaron, but you were too prideful, and a little embarrassed to do so.

so you collected yourself as made your way back to your room (taking twists and turns to avoid anyone you didn’t want to see) to prepare yourself mentally and physically for the dinner to come.

unfortunately for you, aaron was sitting on your bed waiting for your return when you stepped into the room. you we’re unsure on how to greet him since he likely was informed about earlier events through juliette and kenji.

“oh my god, you scared me.”

“my apologies, amor. but i had to see you after you you didn’t arrive with kenji and juliette when they went to ask me about haider.”

you went into your closet as he spoke from your bed, picking out a nice dress for dinner. “got into a fight with them and it didn’t end well. then i dramatically quit being supreme commander.” you explained nonchantly.

he was taken aback, “you quit? just like that?”

“yeah.” you confirm walking out the closet with a lilac dress on arm, “you think this’ll be good enough, or it it too much?”

“you’ll look astonishing as always. but don’t change the topic, what happened to that headstrong nature of yours i admire? you can’t just give up after a silly fight.”

you groan, and toss the dress on tour bef next to him, “i really don’t want to talk about it right now. can’t you just tell me what shoes go with this dress?”

“amor.” aaron stands up and interwines his hands in yours, “please don’t shut me out.”

you bitterness rose back up at his words and you drop aaron’s hands. “that’s ironic coming from you.”

“amor, please don’t pick a fight with me.”

“castle once told me i didn’t know you as well as i thought. and he’s right, aaron. any mention of your past and you close right up.”

aaron sighs, “i’m not an open person, you know this. it’s harder for me to talk about my personal life than it is for you. but i mean it when i say i am trying for you.”

“really? then why didn’t you even bother to mention you knew haider. or how about the fact you have an ex-girlfriend! you know how embarrassing it was for someone from a different continent to tell you more than you knew about your boyfriend?”

“lena?” he asks furrowing his brows. “she was barely a girlfriend. haider likely only mentioned her to rile you up and it’s working, so please calm down.”

“oh my god. there you go again! you want to just sweep it under the rug, and i’m tired of it. all i want is a little more openness from you.”

“i have been open, there’s no one closer to my heart than you. please understand that just certain subject are—“

“hard to talk about, yeah i’ve got that.” you exasperated. “i just think it’s important to mention a two-year relationship.”

“it was purely physical.”

your heart stings. “so, physical relationships just mean nothing to you? everything physical we’ve shared hasn’t meant anything to you?”

“that’s not what i meant. i was different back then!”

you turn around, “just go warner. i’d like to be alone right now before dinner.”

aaron didn’t anything else, he knew your word was final. not because of his sense of your emotions, but by the fact you used his last name.

in less than an hour you managed to fight with every person close to you. and you had to see said people at dinner in less than ten minutes. somehow, you blamed castle for your luck.

delalieu knocked on your door to escort you to dinner. you weren’t sure of aaron had told him to or perhaps he had pity that you would be entering alone. either way you were happy to walk with someone you weren��t upset with.

luckily, you had arrived before the guests did. but unluckily, kenji, juliette, and aaron were already there. your usual spot was next to aaron and infront of juliette, kenji sometimes next to you or her. but juliette sat at the head of the table now, kenji to her right and aaron to her left. you had no choice but to awkwardly sit next to warner due to the limited seating. plus you’d rather not show haider theres issues amongst you four.

kenji and juliete silently conversed, your sister ignored you fully while kenji glimpsed at you with a small frown. you could feel aaron turn in your direction, but your gaze focused on the empty seat next to you.

haider arrived shortly, greeted aaron first with a hug, one aaron was visibly discomforted by. then discreetly spoke, both using arabic tongues. which none of you knew he had. ypu almost choke on nothing as he casually reveals aaron know seven languages. the rest of you greeted him curtly, and he took a seat in front of you.

haider wasn’t the only guest at the dinner, his sister nazeera showing up was a bit of a surprise to the rest of you.

nazeera is gorgeous, with her smooth carmel complexion, dark eyes and strong features. her face held diamonds percing; two on her eyebrow and one below her lip. she wore a wrap that covered her whole hair, and it did nothing to lessen her beauty — it enhanced it.

she stared at juliette before she turned to you. you were unsure of the expression she held, and part of you wanted to just find out yourself, but you knew better.

both you and juliette stood up to greet her, and she accepted politely. she gave aaron a mere nod then proceeded to sit down next to you, instead of her brother. but if anything it gave you more of a reason to not talk to the people beside you.

aaron started the conversation about her scraf, but kenji was the one who made an offhanded comment regarding her head scarf, which you learned was called a hijab, claiming it was banned to wear them since it was stabled with religion. nazeera didn’t shy away from answering, she stood her stance and didn’t care for reestablishment rules despite being a supreme commander’s daughter.

nazeera has a sharp tongue and kenji was not prepared for it. you tried to hide you smile as kenji got more flustered with his words. she was highly more likable than her brother.

“are all the other supreme commander kids like this?” you ask her.

“only the ones who aren’t insufferable.” she stands up from her seat, “so, no,” she tells you with a wink. nazeera then announces her departures and leaves the dining table.

you had a good feeling about her. and even though you and juliette were at odds, you knew she also admired nazeera already.

aaron and kenji bickered a bit before haider bid his goodbyes. aaron took the liberty of escorting him to his quarters. a job that likely should’ve been done by you or juliette, but frankly, you didn’t like the guy much to care.

now juliette, kenji, and you sat in an awkward silence. part of you wanted to mend things with your sister, but majority of you felt she should take the first step. kenji looked ready to say something, but held his tongue.

you figured it was the most you’ll get, so you mumbled a goodbye and headed off to your room.

half way there, you stopped. even if you felt you were the one in the right, you were ready to make the first move if it meant rehashing things with your sister and best friend. you rerouted back to the dining room.

before you could enter, you heard talking. you peeked through the slit of the open door and saw nazeera, juliette, and kenji talking.

suddenly, and ugly feeling boiled in your stomach. seeing them all conversing (mainly juliette and nazeera because kenji was mixing his words) made you realize how perfect the three looked together. almost natural. it made you think of how easy it would be to replace you. nazeera would be the one teasing and messing with kenji. nazeera would be the sister you imagined juliette wished she had instead — one who was confident, witted, and courageous. everything you lacked these days.

maybe they just didn’t need you nearly as much as you needed them.

you couldn’t even place your vexation on nazeera. you just met her today, and she was already someone you knew was amazing as she presented herself.

you never entered the dining room. you left before anyone could notice you dejectedly walking away.

the following morning wasn’t better. delalieu knocked on your just as the sun was starting to rise, your restless sleep did nothing to help wake you up. he informed you you’d been invited to accompany haider, and nazeera would likely be joininng. you nodded, thanked him, and sent him on his way.

as soon as the door closed, you grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it. haider was already being a pain, and it was his second day.

worst part was, delalieu failed to mention haider had also invited others.

you were unpleasantly surprised to see all three of the people you quarreled with arriving after you.

you weren’t sure who to walk aside. but on instinct you stood next to aaron before you could remember your vendetta. juliette was on one side of haider and you were on the other. nazeera and kenji followed closely behind.

it was unbearably silent the first few steps, there wasn’t a word uttered. the tension would’ve needed a axe to cut.

you couldn’t help but peek at aaron from the side of your eye. you quickly looked forward when you accidentally made eye contact. he sighed quietly after. you hated how badly you had to clench your fist to prevent yourself from latching it onto his.

haider broke the silence. he asked warner if he would be attending the continental symposium. you and juliette only knew briefly about it. no one ever mentioned the nature of the event to either of you.

but when juliette inferred haider about it, you both realized how big the event was.

“i wasn’t sure whether you’d both attend since the late supreme commander anderson has never attended public gathering.”

“we’ll both very much be there.” you add in quickly.

“of course, we aren’t hiding from the world,” juliette adds in, “when will it be?”

haider’s eye slightly widened as if she asked an incredulous question. but it made sense after he revealed it would be in two days. he innocently answered, but you knew he was satisfied having caught juliette off guard.

“it’s really my fault for that. juliette’s been so diligent with managing all other issues i thought it would be better if i took it off her shoulder’s and handled it. but silly me, i’d forgotten to keep her posted on the date.”

you jumped in with an excuse to defend your sister because even if you two weren’t on good terms, you wouldn’t let someone try to toy with her.

juliette looks to you grateful for the help, and you give her a small smile in return.

aaron added in, “she’s right, we’re finalizing the program with delalieu today, who is hard at work planning the details.”

you give his hand a tight squeeze as a ‘thank you’. but as you try to let go, aaron’s hand engulfs your tightly to stop you. you try to wiggle your hand a little, but eventually it it be.

you bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from smiling.

aaron asks haider for his plans during the remainder of his stay. he mentions catching up with old friends then goes on to say juliette and you must’ve received numerous invitations from the other kids of supreme commanders.

“we haven’t gotten the whole group together in far too long,” haider says.

you raise a brow, “whole group? just how many of you are there?”

suddenly everyone stops as haider’s demeanor goes from unauthentic sincerity to ice cold. it almost scares you.

he harshly grabs aaron’s arm,wretching your hands apart, and pulls him forward. haider asks angrily if he’s shared little to nothing about ‘them’ with you.

“you turn your back on us for this — this child? how stupid could you be? you have to know it won’t end well, i promise you that.”

“hey! let go.” you protest.

haider scoffs and ignores you. “i thought it couldn’t be true you’d fallen for a psychotic girl’s insignificant freak sister. i defended you, just to find out it all true. what the hell happened to you?”

you’d had enough shoved him away with your gift, hard enough to cause him to stumble back a little.

haider was stunned by the sudden force then notices the red aura from your hand.

“what did you just do?”

you shrug, “how could a child like me do something? but if you touch him like that again you’ll end up just like the last supreme commander. i promise you that.”

“is that a threat?”

“why don’t you find out?”

haider laughs, almost delighted by the fact you threatened to basically kill him. everyone else unintentionally lets out a breathe they didn’t know they were holding, especially juliette who had been ready to intervene.

haider requested to speak with aaron alone, promising to keep his hands to himself. you and aaron shared a look, and you knew he’d be alright. he gives you a smile that was made for you, and you return it.

the fight from the say before was long forgotten. you knew no matter how many fights you’d have, you’d do almost anything for him.

part of you still hoped for a grand apology, but this would be more than enough. now, you hoped to eventually make amends with the other two.

you walked off, not quite sure the destination. you figured you might as well go on a walk yourself since the planned one got disrupted. but a hand grabbed your arm to stop you.

“hey, uhm,” it’s juliette’s voice, “do you think we could talk? i mean..later because we’re all so busy and obviously you have stuff to do-“

“yeah.” you smile, “i’d like that.”

you both share heartfelt grins. you wave at kenji and nazeera from your spot and walk back toward the base. this time, with a happier kick in your step.

a good few steps in — you felt it, an abrupt change in the environment. it was almost too eerie, and you realized there was no one in sight, not even the guards who are meant to follow you from a generous distance.

you came to the conclusion it was no accident when the first shot punctured your shoulder. the second through your side.

you scream in agony to as you attempt to flee from the open, but more bullets ensue. you manage to block a few with your energy, but the pain was painful enough to leave some to hit your busy, such as your thigh. but the one that made you topple over was a bullet near the chest, in almost the same spot anderson once shot you.

you managed to block it before it was a fatal hit, but it hit you enough to be painful and draw blood.

you were half conscious, the world foggy and blurry in your eyes. you felt someone approach you and kneel down to tower over your defenseless body. a sudden pressure on your neck woke you up enough to understand this person was choking you to kill you.

you used whatever energy you had left to try and push the person off of you. the lack of oxygen and the increase of black spots made it hard for you to focus on pushing the person off.

your adrenaline kicked in to created enough power to get the man off of you. as soon as he groan in pain, you started to feebly crawl away from the perpetuator. your blood likely dragging on the concrete now. but they composed fast, and grabbed onto your ankle. you fid what you could and grabbed the nearest rock and hit them on the head with it. but ir wasn’t enough to stop them from grabbing you again.

at that point you were worn out, too tired to even move a muscle. the loss of blood was starting to make you woozy, and the bullets seemed far more painful than you remembered. you couldn’t register you were on the verge of death.

but the pressure on your neck never returned. instead came the noises of violent punches and broken bones. a new person crouched beside you, you knew they meant you no harm as they assessed your wounds and chanted assuring words.

in your deliriousness, you babbled on about how they looked like your friend kenji, one whom you fought with and missed so much.

“i’m sure your friend misses you too.” kenji responds, doing his best to keep you awake.

you blacked when another person, stronger than the first, carefully carried you and rushed toward the base.

in the medical bay, you were in and out of consciousness. you remember sara and sonya hurriedly tending you, kenji freaking out in the back, and aaron worriedly beside you. your first thought was, ‘where’s juliette?’

unbeknownst to you at the time, juliette was getting her wounds treated as well. she had been shot too, but not nearly as fatal as you. she was caught off guard alone as well, but her attacker only aimed to disable her. nazeera had been near by when she heard the commotion and saved her.

juliette was shot moments before you, and aaron believed it was worked as a distraction so your assailant could successfully kill you.

kenji was the one to find you. after juliette had been injured, he went to find you and arrived in the nick of time.

it took almost two days before you could wake up fully without passing out every minute. the first face you saw was aaron — who was already at your beside, holding your hand tightly — almost like he was praying.

when he noticed you’d woken up, his face became relaxed. he pecked you on the lips before badgering you with questions about your state. you assured him you were alright, and had to repeat it over and over.

your body still ached greatly due to the poison laced in the bullets sara and sonya explained to you. your wounds were healed, but there were still possibility of hallucinations from the poison.

after asking for your sister, sara had informed you of her situation, but quickly told you she was alright after seeing your worried eyes.

the culprits had been caught and sent to the holding cells, but they had refused to cooperate. meaning there was zero information on who was behind both your attacks.

aaron was monitoring you intently, when you sat up he rushed to help. he hadn’t stopped holding onto you since you woke up, as if you’d disappear if he let go. his eyes were red-rimmed, but you didn’t comment on it.

you felt bad for giving him a near-death scare again, and berated yourself for leaving yourself vulnerable. even worse, since your sister had also been hurt. aaron put the blame on himself for leaving you unattended.

no matter what you said, warner seemed distraught. his eyes told you there was more to the issue, he was holding back. as he remembered what the issue was, he grew distant. his grip on your hand loosened.

“is everything okay?”

“as long as you’re okay, amor.” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “i have to speak with you about something.”

“about what?”

“not here. let’s get you out of here and cleaned up before we talk.”

you nod. you were more than ready to get out the the med bay. your thoughts went to the coming symposium, with you and juliette being temporarily mia, there was likely a plethora of things still needed to get done.

you were happy to finally get a chance to shower. the grime and blood were now down the drain. once done, you changed and went back into your room where aaron was waiting.

before he could get a word in, you embraced him tightly, and he didn’t hesitate to hold you. after almost dying, you just wanted the comfort of aaron. kenji would call you crazy for putting ‘comfort’ and ‘aaron’ in the same sentence.

you kiss him, after what’s felt like forever. it’s not fiery or rushed, but deliberate and emotional. everything was gone from your surrounding for a moment, it was just the two of you. you felt safe. but then aaron pulled away from you, and held onto your hands.

“amor, i need to tell you something. it’s important.” his eyes are looking at everywhere but you.

“you can tell me anything.” you reassure.

he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his blonde hair. your nerves begin to spike, you’ve never seen aaron so hesitant to speak, he’s almost scared.

“i’ll start from the beginning.”

and he did. he told you the start of the reestablishment, their campaigns, ideals, and plans to take over. then, he shifts to the ‘unnatural’s’ and how after they were discovered, they were exploited by the reestablishment.

aaron tells you about two girls who were willingly given over to the reestablishment to be experimented and tested on. you were getting confused on where the conversation was going.

“aaron, why are you explaining all this?”

“because one of those girls is juliette.”

you didn’t know what to say, you were thrown into a loop you still weren’t fully comprehending.

“i don’t understand..”

“the parents you lived with weren’t your biological ones. y/n, you’re both adopted.”

your reality was warped in a matter of seconds. you never felt connected to your ‘parents’, but finding out you came from a different family?

“w-wait… so the people juliette and i lived with for almost our entire lives aren’t our parents?” aaron nods.

“so where are our biological parents? are they alive? wait… who’s the other girl you mentioned before?”

your head was jumbled up, you were trying to get so many answering at once while still trying to process.

aaron closes his eyes for a second before the green is visible again. “that other girl is juliette’s sister. but it’s not you, amor. you and juliette are not biologically related.”

you were frozen, as if time itself had stopped. you free from aaron’s hands and distance yourself. everything had change.

aaron keeps speaking, saying he only knew of juliette’s real sister and parents and sister until recently. castle was the one who told him the information to put the pieces together. castle was the one who urged him to tell you because the reestablishment was was coming, very soon.

“there was no record of you before you were adopted, i had always assumed it was only juliette adopted. it was only after you came here and i ran your dna, along with juliette’s, did i find yours different from your parents.”

juliette wasn’t actually your sister. the parents and girl you grew up with aren’t related to you at all. everytime you talked to aaron about were grateful for juliette as a sister, he knew the truth the whole time.

it took you five minute of speak again. you didn’t care for the rest at the moment, you still had to have another question of yours answered.

“if juliette’s biological parents work for the reestablishment, where are mine?”

“i swear, i had no idea-“

“please. just tell me.”

the more you heart, the more your heart shatters. to stay and watch over sector 45 while his father left to the capital, anderson had him prove himself. it started with emmaline, juliette’s real sister. he was in charge of her imprisonment and torture. but then his father sent him one more task before he was supreme commander.

anderson transported a man and woman to sector 45, aaron was commanded to get information, by any means, out of them. it went on for a year, until anderson saw no value in keeping them anymore.

his father ordered a public execution, and aaron did as he was told. only when finding a journal of his father just hours before you woke up did he get the identity of those people. your parents.

it was the final straw to send you spiraling. you don’t know if you got on the floor or started yelling first. aaron knelt down next to you, trying to soothe you, but it was only making it worse.

you don’t even feel the tears are running down your face. aaron apologizes over and over saying, no matter how many times you told him to stop. you could only keep saying ‘why?’ over and over.

‘why did you keep this from me?’

‘why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

when aaron tried holding you, you roughly shoved him away. his touch no longer felt loving. instead, it became poisonous.

“don’t touch me.”

“amor, please. i love you, so much.”

“you don’t know how to love anyone. you’re a fucking coward.”

the room was suffocating you. you felt trapped and had to get out of there. you got up and booked it out the door, not stopping when aaron called out your name.

you keeping running and let your legs guide you to your destination. the moment you spotted the white door, you came to a halt.

you barge in with no warning, startling the two people in the room. you take big step toward your target and, without hesitation, you slap castle.

“oh my god— what the hell, y/n!”

kenji’s presence does nothing to stop you, “did you have your kicks keeping secrets from us this entire time?”

castle sighs, now unphased by your violence, “i assume warner told you.”

“we trusted you! and all you did was keep us in the dark about our own fucking life!”

“what the hell is going on?”

“does juliette know?”

“i talked to her not long before warner went to you.”

‘oh god,’ you thought. you worried that was the reason juliette has lacked to see you since you’ve woken up.

“miss ferrars, it was not my intention to cause pain to your or your sis— juliette.”

his error struck a nerve, “no, but it was your intention to be a liar and snake, screw you.”

you stormed out in a rage, not before doing a 180 on castle’s desk. you hoped he’d have the worst time cleaning up.

you ran. out of his office and out of the compound. away from it all. you finally stopped after being knee-deep into a forest.

not caring for your surroundings, you sat down on the nearest large rock. it was then you realized how much energy you exhausted. you took in deep breaths to regain your breathing stability. the oxygen filled your lung helped to calm you down for the first time in the past hour.

with no one around, you finally had the time to think straight without anger and despair clouding your judgement. you weren’t even sure if you could exhaust anymore tears.

but it turned out you did. going through the events of the past hour, didn’t help with processing as you thought it would. it only made you relive the heart-ache.

took half an hour to calm down your sobbing. but it was oddly comforting doing it in a place no one would hear you.

you decided didn’t wanna focus on everything you learned. not on aaron. not on being adopted. not on juliette not being your sister. not on your parents being dead before you got the chance to meet them.

you focused on what you could control — the coming continental symposium. it would be in less than a day. you had nothing prepared, not even attire; much less a speech.

you had no idea how you could show up and presume your personality from before. how could you face the supreme commander kids in a state like this? your thoughts wondered to juliette on what her plan would be. but then it hit you; how was juliette handling it?

when you thought about it, you hadn’t seen her all day. she didn’t see you when you woke up, nor before you and aaron talked. she likely didn’t take this news lightly, especially regarding her sister.

thinking about juliette having a sister, that wasn’t you, was painful. your bond wouldn’t be the same. you weren’t blood, juliette no longer had a reason to stand by your side.

despite telling yourself not to, you thought back to warner. his betrayal hurt deeper than castle’s. how could you trust him again? you couldn’t. it was over.

time passed like nothing being amongst nature. the once light blue sky, turned orange with pink hues, signaling the end of the day. you knew you couldn’t hide forever. you had to find juliette.

if your theory was right then juliette was not in her room. you brainstormed possible locations when you bumped into kenji.

“y/n? thank god, everyone’s been worried about where you went, and juliette—“

“where juliette? i need to see her now.”

“y/n… warner told me everything. i know it must be hard for you both, but i think typu both need some spac—“

you snap, “just tell me where she is kenji!”

“she’s not in the best state.”

“take me to her. now.”

kenji reluctantly leads you to the door of anderson’s office. when you saw it was locked, you pounded on the wood relentlessly.

“c’mon, let’s just go.” kenji persists.

“juliette! open the door!”

“go away.”

“juliette, please let me in. i wanna talk.”

“i don’t wanna speak to you.”

“well, i do.”

“you’re not my real sister, so leave me alone!”

“fine,” you scoff, “hopefully you treat your new sister a lot better than your treating me right now.”

“fuck you.”

“fuck you too!” you throw back.

“…bad time to say i told you so?”

you rolled your eyes at kenji’s remark and walk away. your anger resurged, and you needed somewhere to blow off steam. training room had been unfortunate to be your victim.

when you saw no one in sight, you took it as a sign to proceed. in a matter of seconds, objects where tossed across the room through your levitation. weights were scattered, some broken, benches were bent out of shape, even a few treadmills weren’t so kindly spared. you’d feel bad about the damage later, but it felt so good in that moment to get angry.

it was dark outside when your adrenaline was closing to nothing. your only had energy to sit on a mat laid across the floor. you figured you’d take a quick power nap before going back to your room to sleep.

as soon as you closed you eyes, you were passed out. you’d hadn’t realized just how much of your energy you exerted.

aaron warner was getting back from his debriefing with delalieu, when the open door of the training room caught his eyes.

he was more than dismayed to see the damage done to what once was the training center. he was irritated that he’d have to replace basically all equipment. aaron assumed there was violent fight that happened, but then his eyes fell upon your form sleeping soundly on the floor.

now, he was more impressed than annoyed at the damage done. he would’ve been slightly proud of he wasn’t the reason for you to lash out so brutally.

aaron picked up your limp body in his arms, and carried you off to bed; taking advantage of holding you again. because he wasn’t sure the next time he’d be able to.

you were disoriented after waking up in your room, wondering how you ended up in your room when you’d fell asleep in the training room. you threw the possibly of sleeping walking to bed in, but then decides you didn’t care much for finding out.

it had been much later than you anticipated, and you were surprised no one woke you up. you dressed swiftly and headed out the door, despite a dreading feeling brewing in your gut.

first stop was to find delalieu, who actually found you first. he informed you the arrival of the newest guests and listened as he listed name. you stopped when he uttered the word ‘lena.’

“lena? as in warner’s ex-girlfriend?”

delalieu says nothing, but his eyes are looking at the ground. ‘so that’s a yes.’

great, you thought. you broke up less than twenty four hours ago and his ex already shows up.

then delalieu tells you juliette is already greeting guests, so your presence is not mandatory. he likely knows all of yesterday’s events, including your fight with her, so he’s likely trying to prevent conflict before the symposium.

a stronger person would’ve bitten the bullet and showed up anyway. but you weren’t that stronger person today. you would take to chance to avoid people you didn’t wanna see at any point.

perhaps it was a coward’s way, but you believed after everything, you were entitled to have at least one day.

you busied yourself in the office of your room; approving symposium plan and decor, looking through letters, and going through anderson’s old files — provided by delalieu.

kenji came to see you three hours before the symposium. you pretended to not here it the first couple times he knocked, but he was annoyingly persistent.

you weren’t mad at kenji, he didn’t know anything before you. but didn’t mean seeing him was easy, his presence always reminded you of juliette. you three had always hung out. now he was stuck in the middle.

kenji told you nazeera wanted to speak with you, so you granted her permission to enter. nazeera was quick to her point and told you the reestablishment’s plan; destroying sector 45. she advised you and juliette presented yourself strong at the event, to show everyone you’re a formidable enemy. plus, there was the possibility of sudden danger because of the plans the reestablishment had for juliette and you.

you found sudden danger was just always a given in your life.

you weren’t sure how you and juliette could show up united, you both were at odds and still processing everything you’ve been told. it would be nearly impossible to act as if nothing has changed.

were you even still supreme commander? you weren’t sure you ever ‘unquit’.

but, differences would have to be put aside. because everyone will be watching for your next move. and it may or may not lead to the demise of sector 45.

you missed just shooting and punching enemies.

kenji stuck around after nazeera left. you both discussed the danger to come. then, he filled you in on anything you missed, juliette’s buzzcut, warner sulking, the new guests, and, your favorite, lena being humbled by juliette.

apparently, she’d been ‘eager’ to meet you and asked juliette about your whereabouts. she referred to you as an ‘ex-girlfriend’ is what kenji told you. how she knew about the break up, you had no idea.

juliette looked her up and down before telling her you don’t waste your time with other insignificant to you.

you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe you were judging lena before knowing her, but based on that interaction; it told you enough.

once kenji left to get ready, you decided you’d do the same.

your nerves spiked the closer it got time for the big event. you spent a good hour deciding what would be best to wear. you hadn’t realized you relied on warner for fashion help until that moment.

you settled on a floor-length gown with beautiful embroidered and beaded details. you tried to avoid putting any accessories gifted to you by warner, but it was nearly impossible.

you attempted a makeup look, and you thought you did a pretty good job. and if not, kenji never frayed from being brutally honest to your face.

a guard knocked at your door to alert you that it was time. you cross your finger before exiting the room. time to face everyone you’d been avoiding.

everyone who was to go to the symposium was gathered outside the base, awaiting the vehicle to take them to the meeting location. as expected, everyone was dressed formally.

warner was quick to spot you and hurriedly walked to you. you power walked to get away from him, and hopefully find someone you liked at the moment. but, nonetheless, he caught up to you.

“i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“please, amor. hear me out.”

warner pulls you close to him, holding your hands hostage at his chest. you look into his eyes, and you can see how tired he looks. he’s hadn’t slept well, and it was obvious.

“what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“what could i possibly not have to say to you?”

“i’m sure you rather entertain you’re ex-girlfriend over day, glaring daggers to us.”

“you know that’s not true.”

“do i? i don’t know anything that’s true lately.”

“i love you. my hearts burns for you greatly, and a moment without you is one i can’t bare.”

“i don’t want to hear—“

“my heart has always been yours. i’ll never be able to take back everything i’ve done, but i refuse to lose you because of it.”

“aaron.”

“you can scream or yell at me all you want, if it means you’ll stay by my side.”

his forehead presses against yours. his eyes are focused on every feature of your face that hes already committed to memory.

“say you forgive me, amor.” he whispers so vulnerably.

you want to kiss him. you want everything to be magically better after. you want to believe this is another challenge you both can overcome.

but you can’t. at least no so soon.

you’re holding back tears, but aaron already has one going down his face.

“i can’t.” you distance yourself from warner. “every time i see you, i’m reminded of your betrayal. reminded how much heart-ache you’ve caused me. it can’t be so easily forgotten, aaron. not when i still love you so much.”

you were thankful to be distracted when the guards informed you the rides were here. but your thoughts switched as you noticed you’d have to be enclosed with aaron, juliette, and kenji for fifteen minutes, especially when you had to sit next to warner because juliette was just as mad at him as well.

you the were first out given the chance. you were overwhelmed by the amount of people who showed. thinking about juliette and you having to speak in-front of them all was intimidating. and likely all of them hoped for your demise. fun.

now, juliette took the podium, and you were next to her. you two have yet to discuss anything, so you’ll have to wing your speech to match the tone of hers.

but before she could start, the chaos begins. numerous people being protesting and berating both you & juliette and sector 45.

it was all getting jumbled, but there were various ‘traitors’, ‘you’re just children!’, and ‘freaks.’

to defend juliette, you move to the microphone and angrily demand everyone to quiet down, you do your best to yell over the voices rioting.

out of nowhere, the stage you’re standing on explodes. you’re both launched ten or more feet back. then chaos ensues.

theres a ringing in your ear, making it hard to hear anything; only you witness it all from the ground. people running left and right, the stage was now on fire, and men in uniform started invading the premises.

you see juliette lying on the ground not too far from you. you croak her name, then aaron’s and kenji’s, but you’re not sure if you’re even using your vocals.

you feel yourself being dragged away, you’re unmoving. you feel numb, not able to identify which parts of you are injured.

it’s all happening on slow motion in your vision.

you can see the same happening to juliette. with your head above the ground you see a new perspective. you finally see your friends, some are lying motionless, others are running.

you find kenji helping others escape and aaron with him taking down as many guards. then aaron spots you being dragged away, and his eyes widen. he’s on the move to reach for you, but his distraction leaves an opening for a soldier to take him down from behind.

it takes five soldiers to hold him down, he’s yelling your name, and you don’t react. they finally hand cuff him, not wasting a moment to inject him with something strong enough to incapacitate him.

kenji follow the same fate, not being able to get away invisible before nazeera knocks him out.

a man stands in front of you, blocking you from seeing the scene. you recognize the black expensive boots immediately.

“seems we both have a habit of not staying dead.”

anderson lunges the barrel of the pistol against your head — then it all went black.

you were so sick of seventeen.

taglist — @ravisinghs-wife @tom-pls-fuck-me @valeridarkness @fallonaurr @whatsupb18 @letspretendimnottrash @heart-an0n @mrsspector-grant @kikilarast10 @nina357 @lupinswolfsbanes (some aren’t tagging D: ) tysm for the support <3

#aaron warner x reader #aaron warner #aaron warner anderson #aaron warner imagine #aaron warner fanfic #aaron warner x female reader #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #shatter me #x female reader #juliette ferrars #kenji kishimoto #shatter me fanfic

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rosewaterandivy · 2 months

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Everyone But You - a Life as We Know It au

Ch. 1 - Come as a Known Enemy Memory

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Summary: You and your nemesis, the blight of Williamsburg himself, are thrown together under disastrous circumstances. Pairing: e.m. x f!oc w.c.: 4.5K warnings: NSFW / MDNI, immersive second person narration w/ a name and background but no physical description mentioned, big sads, grief, character death, car accident, jason carver mention, legal guidance, CPS, repression of emotions, occasional catatonia, max mayfield esquire

The call comes in somewhere south of 2 A.M. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that you are stone-cold sober, awake, and pouring over the second to last manuscript from the agency.

You answer it by the second ring.

“This is Vance.”

"Ms. Vance, this is Officer Booker at the 94th precinct in Brooklyn. I’m calling on behalf of Christine Carver, could you please come down to the station?”

The telltale sign of a migraine creeps into your head, lashing against your temples to weave around the base of your skull. A forced blink of your eyes while the words from the manuscript swim across your vision. 94th precinct… that’s, what Greenpoint? The fuck was she doing in Brooklyn at this hour?

"Is she alright?”

The officer sighs, “Ma’am, I can’t disclose personal information over the phone. But once you’re down here—"

Innately and intimately, you know something is wrong. Chrissy and Jason were leaving the city tonight, flying out of Laguardia and back to Indianapolis on the red eye, which should have left an hour or two ago. The officer prattles on about policy and regulation as you get your bearings.

"Yeah, I’ll be there in an hour or so.” A few pages scatter on the table in your haste to get up, “I’m sorry, you said your name was…?”

"Officer Booker ma’am. I’ll let the front desk know to be on the lookout.”

The line drops dead and you lock your phone before slipping it into your pocket. A spring storm whipped through the city, rain falling in sheets outside your apartment window. Slipping into the Hunter galoshes at your door, you attempt to recall Chrissy’s latest missive.

Can’t wait to see you this summer! You and Ed better play nice OR ELSE

The doorman kindly hails you a cab and escorts you to the car, umbrella in hand. You thank him and rattle off an address you’d rather forget in Williamsburg. The ride itself is a quiet hum, briefly punctuated by your various attempts to contact said resident of the Williamsburg apartment which usually ended in a hushed, “Fuck.”

By the fourth attempt, you wonder why you’d ever bothered at all.

It’s not unusual for him to dodge your calls, though it was rare to initiate contact either way. But, rather, this was The Way you had operated since Chrissy posed you Iike her life-size Barbie dolls hoping for a happily ever after— the disastrous date was seared into your memory and played on a loop at the most unfortunate of times, i.e. the night before a big client meeting or during a relay of your Top Ten Greatest Mistakes. And closing in our top three humiliations is…

So, in short, no. No, you did not frequent Brooklyn, and you certainly did not cross the East River if you could help it. Working your ass off at one of the most acclaimed publishing houses did not afford you the luxury to gallivant through the burroughs all hours of the evening, especially not if you wanted to make partner and curate your own client list.

But, clearly, this fact couldn’t be helped tonight.

By the time you arrive in Brooklyn rolling to a stop in front of the brownstone off of Bedford avenue and pay the cabbie, it’s nearing 3 A.M. Dashing onto the stoop in an attempt to avoid the rain, you glance over the numerous intercom buzzers and realize, rather foolishly, that you have no idea which his could be. Luckily, someone is stepping out of the vestibule and you’re able to slip in before the door slams shut.

It’s a walk-up, of course, because this night couldn’t cut you one measly break, could it? The squelch of your galoshes haunts you up the flights of stairs, rain dripping in rivulets onto the steps below. You pause at the third floor, a heavy bass thudding from down the corridor like a siren’s call.

Your fist pounds on the door, punctuated by the clipped sound of your voice, “Munson, I swear to all that is unholy—"

The door opens quickly, and you nearly topple over the threshold. There’s a curl to his lips that tells you he wishes you had careened, tits over ass, in an unfortunate lack of poise, and fell to a heap on his floor. Fortunately, your hand collides with the door frame and finds purchase before any of that can come to pass.

"For Esmé—In Love and Squalor, as I live and breathe.” He drawls, all biting marks and bravado.

Edward ‘Eddie’ Munson was a few things: a writer, a pretentious asshole, Chrissy’s high school BFF, the worst person you’d ever had the displeasure of breathing the same air as, and your arch nemesis— just to name a few.

“Well, if it isn’t the ice queen from the Upper West Side! What brings you down here to slum it with us plebs?”

Soaked from head to toe, the rain drips steadily down your face and body. Your mouth opens and closes intermittently, gaping like a fish. How do I say something like this? How do I tell him that Chrissy, our mutual best friend and her husband are in all likelihood dead? Do I tell him, or should I leave it to the cops down at the station?

Because, at this point, nothing has been confirmed. And it won’t be until you’re both at the precinct meeting with Officer Booker. All you had to go on was your gut.

And your gut hadn’t been wrong yet.

Maybe tonight’s the night. After all, there’s a first time for everything, right?

“Hellooooo,” He hangs on the door jamb, long limbed and impatient. “C’mon, if you came all the way down here to bust my balls you could’ve—“

“S-she,” You swallow audibly and try to correct your earlier statement. “They, they’re gone.”

Eddie straightens up. A furrow pinches between his brows. “Who’s gone?”

“Chris, Jason, they just—"

He quickly grabs a jacket and slips on a pair of beaten to hell docs before shutting the door. It briefly passes through your mind that he should get his keys, he’ll need his keys to get back in. But before you can say anything, Eddie’s hand curls around your bicep and steers you down the stairs.

“Okay, okay.” He soothes, guiding you onto the sidewalk. “Where are we going, hospital or precinct? We’ll need a cab or Uber, right?”

Eddie grabs his phone and pulls up an app before muttering, “Fucking surge pricing, what the shit.”

The rain falls steadily, on and on, in the cool spring night as you wait. A seemingly endless vigil for the pair of you, the dark sky blanketing a city that never sleeps.

The blip and wail of sirens increases the closer you get to the station. The cab ride itself had been silent, save for Eddie’s wallet chain jangling as his leg jostled up and down. You’d mostly gathered your wits on the drive over, knew what to do, who to find— your head was as clear as it could be for now.

Eddie pays the fare and nods to the cabbie in thanks as you turn to open the door. His hand finds your arm, fingers trepidatious against the damp fabric of your trench coat.

“D’ya think…”

A pinprick of pressure at the top of your sinuses, eyes blurring with newly minted moisture. A quick sniff to clear your nostrils as you slowly exhale.

”I hope not.”

You push the door open and stride across the wet pavement. An officer holds a door open for you with a tight-lipped smile.

”Hi,” You say, clearing your throat. “I’m looking for an Officer Booker?”

A desk jockey leads you both back to a small conference room and offers you a choice of coffee or water. You take him up on it and anxiously wait for Booker’s arrival.

”Hello,” A man greets, setting a to-go cup of coffee on the table and offering his hand to shake. “I’m Officer Booker. You must be Esmé Vance. And this is…?”

”Eddie Munson,” He says with a cough.

Booker nods, as if he expected it. “Of course,” He takes a seat and places a manila folder on the table between you. He takes a beat, looking each of you in the eye, a tinge of sorrow precedes his next comment. “There was an accident, and it is with sorrow and regret that I inform you—"

And with that, the world drops dead.

A harsh buzzing, like static, fills your ears. Unwittingly, you clutch at Eddie’s hand, slotting your fingers together. Can’t bring yourself to worry over how cold and clammy your palm is against the dwarfing warmth of his. He squeezes your hand back, nods at whatever Booker is saying, something about finding your information as her I.C.E. contact on her phone.

"The first responders found it and we took it from there. But now we need numbers for the nearest next of kin, can you supply those?”

Big, wet tears fall silently down your cheeks and you can’t bring your vocal cords to work, to say something as simple as yes.

"Uh, yeah,” Eddie replies instead, accompanied by a violent sniff. “Her parents are back in Hawkins, Indiana— Peter and Ellie Cunningham.” He rattles off their home phone number as you watch, mesmerized, tremulous tears falling unabated down his face.

There’s scruff bordering on five-o’clock shadow peppering his cheeks and jawline, errant curls falling from the sloppy topknot on his head. He looks exhausted, as if the last half-hour has robbed him of sleep, bluish hollows like crescent moons underneath his eyes.

But he hasn’t let go of your hand.

No, he’s held it like a vise. As if it’s the only thing tethering him to the ground.

“You said the car flipped? It—It flipped when it hit the…”

Booker looks at both of you, really takes a long, hard look.

Two kids, really. Early thirties, if he had to guess, and hopelessly floundering in the midst of a goddamn bitch of an unimaginable situation. Shit, he couldn’t tell which way was up at that age, and by then he’d had a badge and a gun.

Then, as if it’s dawned on you for the first time:

"They have a baby, w-who is she with now?“ You stutter out, dread curling low in your stomach. You clench Eddie’s hand all the harder.

The harsh whisper of your voice brings a halt to the conversation. Eddie gapes back at you, wide eyed and woebegone.

”If you’ll excuse me,” Booker says, rising to leave, “I’ll get a deputy to contact the parents and ascertain where the child is. Sit tight ‘til then.”

The door clicks shut.

And the wail that careens up your throat is enough to kick-start Eddie’s survival mode into gear. He pushes away from the chair to sit at your feet, one hand grasping yours while the other winds around your waist and presses you to his torso. Sobs wrack your body, loud and hiccuping, while his lips murmur softly at the crown of your head.

Nothing he’s saying registers. But he’s there and warm, one large hand trailing the expanse of your back, up and down and over again; it’s almost soothing. He’s taller than you, something you’d always known from his penchant to loom over you, but you don’t seem to mind it just now.

Tucked under his chin and pressed to his chest, it feels almost safe. His physical proximity and the way his body seems to mold around your own, protecting you from the sickening reality that she’s gone, and the sharp pain that kicks up in your gut, lends you enough comfort to make an attempt at processing this disaster. Chrissy and Jason, both gone in one fell swoop. Their daughter, Zoë, effectively orphaned and alone.

A beautiful, innocent little girl, a veritable copy of her mother, all blonde hair and blue eyes. Soft coos and footie pajamas, waiting for parents who would never return.

What would happen to her?

It’s that very thought that snaps you out of your tear-streaked state as Officer Booker returns. Eddie sets you back on the chair, hands patting along your arms to check that you’re okay, at least for the moment. Catching his eye you give him a small nod.

"The Cunninghams have been informed and are on their way. The child was with the nanny, but CPS has taken over her care for the time being.”

”What, why?”

Eddie’s posture has changed, what was once hunched in an uncomfortable precinct chair has now straightened up, his spine pulled taut with tension.

“It’s procedure until the next of kin can be notified.”

”No, that’s—" You stand abruptly, “We’ve gotta go. I mean, unless you need anything…?”

He shakes his head, “No, you’re free to go.” He stands and offers his hand to you once more, “My sincere condolences to you both.”

Leaving the precinct in a blur, you hardly realize you’re back on the sidewalk. On auto-pilot, you step out to hail a cab. Eddie, the lingering presence behind you, continues to silently brood.

As the cab pulls to the curb, a sharp jerk of your arm pulls you backward to collide with an oomph against him. You turn an apology on the tip of your tongue that vanishes at the sight of him.

For all you know of Eddie Munson, one thing is for certain, it takes a lot to render him silent. And while you were rapidly losing it in the station, he had held it together. But the second you mentioned Zoë, all the fight left him.

“Munson,” You croak, trying to draw him out from his racing thoughts. “We’re going to her, she’s not going to be alone, I promise you.” His eyes track your face in the light from the street lamps. “We’ll be on the next flight out, but we have to get in the cab first, okay?”

He nods, so subtle that if you’d blinked you would have missed it. You release the breath trapped in your lungs, a slow exhale as your hands settle on his forearms. Cautiously, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. He hesitates, body as tight as a tripwire, before he settles against you. The slight weight of you reminding him that he’s not alone in this.

"We’ll figure it out,” You murmur, voice scratchy from all the sobbing.

And for a moment, you just hold one another in the crisp spring morning. Birdsong twitters from above as the gloomy clouds of last night’s storm begin to clear. Elsewhere, people are beginning to rise and greet the new day, coffee percolates and sheets rustle.

But in that moment, you’re able to forget all that— to push aside the fact that there are other people in the world and instead revel in the heartbreak you both feel, in the odd familiarity of each other.

Eddie uses the key Chrissy gave him to unlock the house in Loch Nora. It’s just after 6 A.M. of that same dreadful day and the house looks homey. A laundry basket propped up on a credenza, overflowing with burp cloths and tiny onesies. He flips a switch, and the entryway is bathed in a dull warm glow.

“No, no,” You continue speaking into your phone, as you shut the door. “What I don’t understand is why we can’t see her now? Ma’am, I know you have protocol but we’re the godparents, isn’t there a precedent for that?”

Eddie moves like a ghost through the house, finds himself wincing as he catches sight of the Carver family photos with Chrissy’s bright smile. As he moves further into the house, your voice falls away.

All business since the cab ride. You swept through his studio like an automaton, throwing things into a duffle and didn’t bother to shut dresser drawers either. It looked like a criminal had ransacked his bedroom for a paltry collection of clothing.

Eddie was tasked with packing his backpack, which he couldn’t muster up the effort to adequately do, and settled for tossing in his laptop, a few charging cables, and whatever else he swept off of the cluttered desk before zipping the bag.

Spent less than twenty minutes at your own place on the Upper West Side and returned with a neatly packed hardshell carryon and a leather tote bag, all the contents neatly organized and at the ready.

And, he had to hand it to you, the efficiency you deployed everywhere from check-in to the TSA Pre-Check line, to wrangling an upgrade for the plane ride itself, and now playing verbal chess with the CPS representative was… impressive. Albeit frightening.

But he also found it rather cold and unfeeling. Because, while yes, he had held you as you fell to pieces in the police station and witnessed your grief, since then you’d been too… together. Neatly packaged with a shiny bow on top, your sorrow packed tight and lying in wait underneath the glinting veneer of propriety.

The click of your heels on the hardwood floors alerts him to your presence.

“Yes, I’ll be at this number. Thank you, goodbye.” You huff and lean against the arm of the sofa. “They won’t do anything, not until the case worker arrives this morning, at least.”

Eddie nods, “I’m sure that she’s fine, Vance.” His voice is soft, tired. “Why don’t you get some sleep? The guest room is upstairs and—“

A shake of your head, as you bring the phone back up to your ear. “No, I still need to contact the lawyer for Chr— uh, the will.” You reply, unable to speak her name, a little uneasy at the fact that she had a will in the first place.

Eddie tsks, he lip curling in disbelief, “C’mon, are you serious? What lawyer is going to be in-office and answer the phone at this hour, Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe?”

Fixing him with a glare Medusa would envy, you purse your lips. “Then I’ll leave a message with their answering service. And,” You turn, tossing the last bit over your shoulder, “If it’s an attorney that Carver hired, I can guarantee they’ll call back within the hour.”

And, true enough, the offices of Mason & Finch returned your call within thirty minutes. But really, who was counting?

You find Eddie’s limbs sprawled all over the couch in the den, the tv light flicking against the pallor of his skin. Grabbing the remote, you catch sight of Katharine Hepburn swanning across the screen in Bringing Up Baby.

Tossing the remote to the side with a clatter, you accidentally (somewhat) wake Eddie.

“The fuck Vance?” He sounds groggy and confused, slightly alarmed that he was jolted awake by a piece of plastic to the face.

”The attorney has arrived.” You say in lieu of a greeting, “And CPS hasn’t called yet.”

He rises slowly, stretching as a cat might— arms flexing above his head causing the hem of his shirt to ride up and reveal a smattering trail of dark hair down his abdomen. With a roll of your eyes, you turn and walk back into the study at the front of the house.

Maxine Mayfield Esquire, junior partner at Mason & Finch, has made herself comfortable at Jason’s mahogany desk. Briefcase stowed at her feet, she runs a hand through her hair, loose in her haste to make this meeting on time. The sealed last will and testament of Mr. and Mrs. Carver sits at the center of the desk, ominous and forlorn.

Technically, she wasn’t on-call for estate cases currently. But when the secretary had phoned her to see who was available this week, the second Max heard the words “fatal collision” and “Carver”, she was up and out of bed. She knew she needed to handle this case, though the name the secretary gave her was unfamiliar: Ripley Esmé Vance.

Whoever this person was, Max knew Eddie wouldn’t be long behind.

Before she’d left for the Carver’s that day, Max had trusted Lucas to rally the troops for an all hands on deck situation. She couldn’t tell him much, or if Eddie was even in town yet, but she knew Lucas would see to it that he wasn’t alone.

Mason had briefed her over the phone on the drive over about the proceedings, what to expect from the beneficiaries, how to liaise with CPS, who to contact if Vance and Munson refused custody. Though, she didn’t anticipate needing that particular bit of information.

Rising to greet who could only be Vance, Max is nearly bowled over at the sight of Eddie. He looks haggard, which is to be expected, but it’s a stark contrast to the pristine image of his counterpart.

Esmé Vance oozes sophistication— black Tahitian pearls adorn your neck contrasting with the gray sweater and wide legged trousers you’re sporting. Not much taller than Max, the inch or two gained in whole part due to the heels that click against the floor as you go to greet her.

"Ms. Mayfield,” You say, with the husky voice of a silver screen siren, “Thanks so much for seeing us this early, we appreciate it.”

As you shake hands, the singular ring on your right hand catches Max’s notice. A clean and simple signet nestled on an elegant finger. Your nails are impeccable, a dark plum shade that Max makes a note to get the name of later.

In short, Chrissy’s best friend is just as the bubbly blonde had bragged— her polar opposite in nearly every way. Max wasn’t sure if she wanted her or simply wanted to be her, but she’d deal with that later.

"Hey Red,” Eddie says, leaning against the doorframe.

She excuses herself to wrap him in a warm embrace, professionalism be damned. He accepts it willingly, and she allows herself the luxury of inhaling the familiar scent of stale cigarettes and coffee.

"Hey Ed,” She replies, stepping back after a moment or two. “I’m so sorry about Chrissy.” She turns back to Esmè, eyes misty, “My condolences to you both.”

Soon after, they get down to brass tacks. Max reads the will aloud, the legalese meaning absolutely jack shit to Eddie, that is until:

"Joint legal and physical custody of Zoë Lux Carver is granted to Ripley Esmè Vance and Edward Waylon Munson—“

"I’m sorry, but what?” Eddie’s voice is louder than he intended, so distracted by the fact that he’s been granted custodial rights over an actual baby, that he completely misses that you don't even go by your given name.

It’ll come back to him later, sleep-addled and at wit’s end, no doubt.

Max pauses, noting the lack of reaction from you. Hmm, interesting. “Did Chrissy not discuss the guardianship arrangements with you?”

Eddie shakes his head, you decline to reply and turn to gaze out of the window. You’re quiet, which can only mean one thing.

"You knew about this Vance?”

"Well,” You hedge a reply, “I didn’t think it would necessarily come up. But… yeah, she mentioned it after Zoë was born. Though I didn’t know she meant joint custody.”

He turns back to Max, “What does that mean?”

"It means,” You supply, turning back to the conversation, “That we raise her together. Joint as in the two of us,” Your fingers gesture between the pair of you, “Not as in what your studio reeks of.” And then, you pantomime taking a drag from an imaginary joint, as if to prove your point.

"Gee, thanks for the tip, Officer Krupke.”

Max watches, idly amused by the pair of you, a knowing smile gracing her lips. “Right, so if you refuse custody, Zoë will be placed with another willing caregiver, preferably family, but if not, she’ll go into foster care.”

"Oh, fuck no!”

"Over my dead body!”

Your exclamations override one another, the volume of the conversation increasing for so an early an hour. Max desperately wants a coffee, maybe an Irish one.

“Okay, so you’re agreed on that, at least.” Max turns over to the next page in the document. “Everything else is pretty standard: all liquid assets are left to Zoë, kept in a trust until her twenty-first birthday, which you are both guardians of.”

She pauses for a moment, very much entertained that Chrissy, and by extension Jason, have left you both in charge of everything. A realization that has Eddie rolling his eyes beside you.

”You’ve also been given the deeds to the house in Hawkins, as well as the brownstone and, besides a few personal effects left to other people, everything within the properties seems to be yours.”

The redhead passes a copy of the document to each of you, along with her card. “When you have questions, you can reach me at these numbers and Eddie has my cell, too.”

Your mind is reeling, trying and failing to piece together the remnants of a life left behind. A puzzle that only you and Eddie can solve, or so it would seem. Before you can ask for confirmation or voice any of your concerns, Eddie’s voice rings through the room with an incredulous, “Properties? As in, plural?”

Max clears her throat, “Uh, yes. They want you to raise Zoë either here, in Hawkins, or—" She trails off to confirm the location of the other property. “New York. They closed on a property there earlier this week.”

"Huh,” He says, collapsing back into the club chair in front of Jason’s desk. “They never mentioned that.”

"Zoë.” You say once your tongue begins working again, “How do we— Where is she now?”

Max gives you a relieved smile. “Well, I’ve already arranged for her transfer. The foster family she was placed with last night will bring her to CPS. They feel that she’ll adjust best in her own environment. So, first, she needs to be picked up and brought here.”

“Right,” You say, rising from your chair, “Can you excuse me, for just one moment?” And walk, as calmly as you can, out of the study and through the house to the back deck.

It’s as if you can’t get enough air into your lungs, but the quicker you breathe in, the faster your heart beats. Your skin pricks with cold despite the warm morning sun.

”Ohmygod,” You heave out in a rush of air, “Ohmygod, ohmygod.”

There has to be a better solution than co-parenting with Munson. How Jason’s attorney even let Chrissy pair you together for the foreseeable future truly boggles the mind. The pair of you loathe each other, further compounded by one disastrous interaction after another. This was insanity, there was no way in hell it could ever work!

You brace your hands on your knees and will yourself not to throw up. Never knowing that at precisely that very moment, Eddie is doing the same in the front yard of the house, just as petrified as you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #fic: eby #modern!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic

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