#like this is like a seventh chance that is given to her and she just burnt the bridge before she even had a chance to put in a support struc

[sweetsweetjellybean]

A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her. 

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher. 

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would. 

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD.  With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front. 

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning. 

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.” 

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you. 

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.” 

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car. 

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too. 

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty. 

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you. 

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it. 

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you. 

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder. 

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy. 

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon. 

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort. 

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing. 

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun. 

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt. 

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end. 

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan. 

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him. 

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company. 

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours. 

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?" 

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago. 

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones. 

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you. 

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders. 

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?” 

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp. 

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal. 

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents  bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you. 

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck. 

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard. 

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago. 

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand. 

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar. 

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–" 

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again." 

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks. 

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?" 

The lie comes without hesitation. 

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

[demonpiratehuntress]

boyfriend

Sanji x F!Reader

Summary - based on Boyfriend by Big Time Rush. Sanji keeps asking you out and you keep saying no, until you change your mind. Could work for both LA and anime Sanji.

Warnings - none, i think?

"Man, I really need a boyfriend."

You sighed as you rested your chin on the palm of your hand, one arm propped up on the table. Nami rolled her eyes and laughed at you as you gazed longingly at the couple dancing on the far side of the room.

"I didn't know you liked dancing," the orange-haired navigator teased.

"You know what I mean!" You sat up straight and groaned. "I just want someone to hug and kiss and do all that couple-y stuff with."

Nami faked gagging, and you shot her a glare.

"I'LL BE YOUR BOYFRIEND, (NAME)!" Sanji came running, almost knocking down a few chairs. His overenthusiasm attracted attention, and your face went beet-red as some people looked at you.

"No."

His jaw dropped at your reply, genuinely shocked. When Nami rejected him, he would usually dismiss it with another heart-eyed stare and say how wonderful she is even when she's rejecting him. But for some reason, rejection from you wasn't sitting well with the cook. He knew why, you didn't.

"Why not?" He pouted, taking the seat next to you. "I'd make a great boyfriend."

"That's debatable," you argued, trying to conceal how you really felt.

Truth be told, you did have a massive crush on the cook. But his gravitation towards flirting with every damn woman in sight was not attractive, and it put you off. You were upset by it, because you knew for a fact that he would not stop even if you agreed to date him. And you wanted someone who was ready to commit to you, and you alone. Someone who wouldn't look another girl's way.

This was not the first time Sanji asked you out. It was more like the...sixth? Seventh? You were honestly losing count. He asked you out more times than the Going Merry stopped at islands. He was persistent, and he wasn't showing signs of giving up.

But you still had a very different idea of the kind of boyfriend you wanted. And as much as it pained you to keep rejecting Sanji's advances, you didn't want to be hurt by him. You were afraid that if you gave him a chance, he would stop acting so nice and sweet to you and instead direct his attention more towards other women. In essence, you were scared to enter a relationship with the flirtatious love cook.

"Take a damn hint, you stupid love cook," Zoro grumbled as he also joined you ladies at the table.

Sanji glowered at him, saying something equally rude back, and the two almost clashed if not for Nami pulling their ears. You laughed, shaking your head as your eyes wandered back to the slow dancing couple, your smile falling just a little bit.

-

"(Name), do you want to go out with me now?"

"No."

You didn't even look up from your book, not noticing the crestfallen look on his face after you outright rejected him yet again. He still hadn't given up, because he was sure he could get you to date him, but you were just becoming colder and colder with each advance.

"Why not?"

"You know why."

"No, I really don't."

You sighed in frustration, snapping your book shut as you glared at him, "I don't want a boyfriend who will go around drooling over every pretty woman that passes by. Is it so bad that I don't want to date you because you can't keep your attention on one woman? If you were really serious about dating me, you wouldn't give any other lady the time of day." With that, you got up and stormed off, hot angry tears running down your flushed, red cheeks.

You were angry. So angry. And frustrated. Why the hell could he not see that his playboy attitude was not attractive to you? You were hurt. Surely if he really wanted you he could set aside his desire to flirt with anything remotely feminine.

But he couldn't. And you weren't going to change your mind. So it would never work anyway...

-

"(Name)-"

"No."

He sighed, "I really want you to be my girlfriend."

"No."

He sighed again, but this time didn't press further. You peered at him over the top of your book, watching him walk away again. The crew had arrived at another island, and he had asked you to take a walk again, but you refused. You were stubborn that way. As much as it was hurting you, you knew you would feel worse if you agreed to date him and then spotted him giving some random woman the heart-eyes.

"Maybe you should give him a chance," Nami slid into the seat next to you. "I think he genuinely wants to be with you."

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "What happened to the whole 'boys are stupid' thing?"

"They are," she laughed. "But it's different for you and him."

You and him.

You sighed, looking at your hands, "There's no such thing."

"Come on," she nudged you, "You won't even let yourself try it. I mean, sure, he has a very annoying habit, but if he dares do that with you then you know I'll just whack him. And raise his debt."

You laughed at that, shaking your head, "Oh I know. But still..."

"You're afraid to get hurt, I know," her voice softened, "But we're still pirates. Taking risks is part of the game."

You knew she was right. She hardly ever wasn't. But you were stubbornly resisting the idea of giving into the cook's advances, until she suddenly whacked you on the head.

"OW!"

"Go!"

"Fine! Damn, woman."

You grumbled as you got up and left the ship, heading into the small town to search for your blonde crewmate. You assumed it would be easy, since he was the only person in a suit, but it was harder than you anticipated. He just wasn't anywhere. You were about to give up when you heard your name being called.

You turned, to see Sanji running up to you eagerly. He was waving his hand in the air, clutching something you couldn't see but that he was excited to show. He panted when he finally came to a stop in front of you.

"Sanji-" You started to say.

"Wait," he cut you off gently, "Just...let me speak." He took a deep breath. "I know I tend to flirt with a lot of women and just turn into this heart-eyed idiot whenever I see one, and for that I am really, really sorry. I know it hurts you. And I know that's the reason you keep rejecting me. So," he opened up his hand to reveal two necklaces, one with your name on it and one with his. "I thought this might help. And Usopp actually kind of rigged mine, to shock me any time I think of flirting with someone else."

You were too stunned to respond as he kept rambling on about what his necklace would do to him, looking between him and the personalised chains. You didn't know what to say, or how to feel. For once, you were confused.

"Do you not like it?" He frowned, disappointment creeping up on him.

Your eyes widened and you jerked forward to take the one with his name on it, "No, no! I do, it's just..." You looked down at the elegantly-printed name hanging from the chain. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to get shocked to death, you know."

He laughed and helped you put it on, "I won't. It's not that bad. But even so, I plan to focus all of my attention on you." He kissed your temple, but it was rushed and uncertain, like he thought you'd smack him for it.

"Let's see how long that lasts," you teased him, smiling as you leaned up to press your lips against his.

The kiss didn't last long, because suddenly he jerked away from you with wide eyes.

You sighed, "Sanji..."

"I'm sorry! I was thinking about how I'm going to break the news to Nami..."

#one piece live action #opla #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #one piece #op

[incorrectbatfam]

Do you have any angsty headcannons of Damian Wayne

Sometimes I wonder if he has any insecurities about being the youngest and the fact that he's fifth (sixth? seventh?) in a long line of batkids who have already done pretty much anything he can think of. Blowing up the League of Assassins? Tim did that. Starting a superhero team? Sure, Damian's done that, but it's kinda derivative of his siblings'. Dying? That's literally Jason's whole schtick. With older siblings, he's gonna invariably end up with some hand-me-downs and it's a lot harder to carve his own unique identity.

He's over the whole "blood son" thing, but he can't help but feel a little jealous when Bruce talks so fondly about the others' Robin days, meanwhile Damian is still referred to as "having potential" and needing to work on this or that. It's like when your siblings have a bunch of trophies and you know you're just as capable, but you haven't been given the chance.

As Robin, everything he did was measured up against his siblings. Dick stuck the landing better. Tim was more careful with evidence. Steph decoded the riddle faster. Jason could take on twice as many goons. Though Damian tries to do things his own way, Robin never feels like something that's fully his.

Even though the Waynes can buy ten of everything, he still ends up with some of his siblings' stuff—Dick's sweatshirt, Jason's books, Tim's old camera. Damian can try and pretend they belong to him, but then he comes across a scribble in the margins or an old picture of Young Justice and it's a reminder that he's still tethered to the people who came before him.

And maybe that's why he still picks fights and gives people a hard time. At his age, he'll do anything it takes to stand out so someone notices him, and being difficult accomplishes that. As an immediate result, he gains individuality by being known as the Demon Brat. And because he gets that instant gratification, he keeps doing it over and over.

It's no secret that he and Tim aren't always on good terms. I think part of it has to do with Tim being the next closest predecessor and Damian has an easier time picking him apart compared to facing off against Dick or Jason. Because of that, though, I think Tim would be the first to pick up on why Damian is this way.

Do they communicate about it? Mmm not yet. This is the most emotionally stunted family we're talking about, so instead of indulging Damian's behavior, Tim flat-out ignores it and it's one of those instances where ignoring works because Damian stops, at least with him.

But then he moves on to Steph, but her tolerance is way lower than Tim's and she lets Damian know that. She straight-up tells him, "Hey, quit being obnoxious. It works now because people are going easy on you, but one day someone's gonna screw you up and you won't have a Batman to run to."

He doesn't really believe her because 1) he was never one to care what strangers think about him and 2) getting the job done was more important than being liked to him.

Cut to school being back in session. Damian mainly keeps to himself—partly to lay low, partly because he never got along with other kids before and didn't see the point in trying again. His grades are stellar and for the first month or so, teachers praise him all around for being a model student.

But that eventually slows down as his straight-A's and thesis-sounding papers become routine—it's his norm, and teachers stop pointing it out as something remarkable.

And just like before: when being Robin stops working, be the Demon Brat.

He keeps his grades up, but the teachers start sending emails home about things like chewing gum and using his phone in class. Every time, Bruce just reminds him to behave.

One time Bruce offhandedly mentions how Jason was a well-behaved student and Damian can't help but think, "That's the point. I'm not Jason."

The emails pile up, now with new problems like extended bathroom breaks, breaking the dress code, and even one incident where he forged himself a note to get out of class early.

But the thing that lands him in detention is a snide comment to the wrong kid that spirals into a schoolyard brawl. And even though Damian pulls his punches, it still ends in bruises and a bloody nose, and it takes two teachers and the football coach to break it up.

And just his luck, Dick's in Bludhaven, Alfred has a doctor's appointment, Tim and Bruce are at a business meeting, and Jason wants to stay out of this, so guess who's there to pick him up at the end of the afternoon.

Steph doesn't beat around the bush. Her first response is, "What did I tell you?" And it pisses him off because she's right.

That evening, they go on a long drive where she eventually gets an explanation out of him. And she gets him, 100%. She tells him how she had big shoes to fill as Batgirl and how she always compared herself to Cass and Babs.

Then she says: "Robin isn't a personality you grow into or break out of. It's just a costume. Who you are underneath is who Robin becomes."

For good measure though, she goes to Bruce later like, "Hey, do you need a laxative? 'Cause you're so emotionally constipated that you forgot your son is his own person, not a work in progress or extension of someone else." Then she swipes his credit card and takes Damian to the arcade to make him feel better since he still has a week's worth of detention plus Alfred giving him double the chores.

After that, people will still occasionally slip up, but when Dick ruffles his hair and says they'll ace a mission "the Damian way," it's reason enough to believe that things are looking up.

#damian wayne #robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #batfam #batboys #batbros #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #tw angst #tw violence mention #ask #anonymous #long post

[myvampyrez]

This is a stupid request so iUEOE IF U DONT LIKE IT ITS FINE but . A cloud x reader where Cloud, even after months from the start of their relationship, keeps getting a bit flustered, all blushy, whenever he gets kissed? ITS STUPID ITS LILE. IT COULD BE A DRABBLE TBH CAUSE ITS YEAH. BUT YEAH . Sow wy.

red kisses 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

cloud strife x fem!reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

ughhh this request was so cute!! i made it into a fic instead because i just had some ideas :) hope you guys enjoy 💕!!

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kissing, cloud gets flustered, intended lowercase, tifa teasing cloud for having a big fat crush on you, reader is referred to as clouds girlfriend, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1186 words, 6519 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“shit!” you yelled, ducking under the rapid gunfire on the shinra infantryman. your hand reached for your sword before a gloved hand came to stop you. eyebrows furrowed, you looked back at cloud who just shook his head before pulling out his buster sword and stepping out into the gunfire, using his weapon as a shield from the bullets as they ricocheted off the metal.

you watched in awe as he cleared out the group. you knew he was always good at his job but seeing him in action never failed to make your jaw drop.

“hey, you comin’ or not?” he called out for you, his extended leather clad hand beckoned you after the coast was clear while numerous infantrymen laid on the ground unconscious below him. snapping out of your thoughts, you peeked your head out from behind the storage container and jogged your way towards him, beaming.

“my hero.” you extolled, leaning closer to lay a quick chaste kiss on cloud’s cheek before skipping over towards a metal door, eager to continue your mission. he made a noise of surprise, hand ghosting over where your lips had touched his face as a shade of pink tinted his freckled skin. his eyes followed your footsteps as he turned around and caught up with you, quickly following behind just in case you were caught off guard. you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him pitter-patter after you.

you definitely noticed the faint blush on his cheeks when he returned, and thus began your journey to flush cloud whenever given the chance to.

more time had passed, and cloud had actually gotten to know you. even if you never let him forget that one instance on the mission to the mako reactor.

and here cloud sat— in a bar stool at seventh heaven drinking the strongest of whatever tifa’s got while she talked about the newest mission avalanche was planning. she cut herself off mid-sentence, noticing how cloud continued to swirl his drink around while his eyes stayed glued to the ripples created in the glass, mind clearly elsewhere.

she put her arms behind her back as she leaned forward and tried to get his attention. “cloud?” she called, causing his eyes to peer back up at her. he made a small ‘hm’ sound in response.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” she asked, inquisitive smile still painted on her face as usual. resting her arms on the wooden bar countertop, she watched as cloud contemplated to say what was really on his mind right now. he exhaled through his nostrils as he took another sip of the red liquid in his glass, “nothing.”

tifa’s brows raised as she finally understood. “so,” she began, “thinkin’ about your girlfriend, huh?”

“what makes you say that?”

“every time she’s around you, i never hear any of that ‘hard-ass’ complaining you’re always doing, as wedge would call it.” she grins, now knowing she hit the head right on the nail. “it’s like she placates you.”

“‘m just tired, that’s all.” he huffed, throwing his head back and downing the liquid as a weak attempt to try and hide the growing blush that grew across his face.

tifa simply laughed, standing up straight and greeting marlene as she walked in through the double doors with her dad, squealing about whatever new things she found today. always so excited to explore even in the slums of midgar. he placed a few coins on the bar counter as a payment for the drink, walking out of the bar and praying that tifa didn’t notice the money on the counter in hopes that she wouldn’t try and sneak it in his room like last time.

as for your new “mission” of trying to fluster cloud, it grew harder for him to ignore as everyday you’d press a kiss to his jaw or his hand or even the tip on his nose. he started to take his behavior into consideration after what tifa said. did he really act all that different around you?

your goal started making more progress as time went on and your relationship got more serious. often, your invites to your place ended up just being a torture chamber for him as you had managed to root yourself deep within his brain. he couldn’t get you out, and although he acted like he didn’t care, it haunted him. you were everywhere around him. but maybe, he thought, just maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to get close to someone.

he’d look at marlene and his mind would think back to you. the way you’d sit with her and talk to her about her weird dreams where she’d become a dolphin or something like that. barret would throw a glare at him and all cloud could think about was how you mentioned how barret scares the absolute shit out of you. you were everywhere, your presence, your perfume, your—

“hellooo—?” earth to cloud?” your hand came into view, once again snapping cloud out of his thoughts. he hummed.

“space out there?” you smiled at him, and ugh, that smile. it made him feel obnoxiously warm. he never got used to those butterflies that would travel along his stomach, even if you guys had been together for a while.

he huffed as he looked away, lolling his against the soft pillows you had on your bed. “yeah, uh.. yeah.” he finally said, eyes trailing off as he narrowed his eyes at shinra’s public service announcement that broadcasted on tv. cloud let out quiet groan at the man’s face and turned it off, the remote dropping from his hand and onto the blanket as he turned back to you.

“you always seem to glow, cloud. did you know that?” you blurt out, finger tracing the taut muscles of his arm.

“well.. maybe it’s just because of the mako—? SOLDIER, remember?”

“no, not like that,” you giggle behind your hand, “i’m just saying i think you’re handsome, cloud.” that makes him let out a small noise of surprise, stiffening as he’s unsure what to say next.

“oh.” he said, ears heating up as he looked away from your intense gaze. he crossed his arms, trying to avoid the way your head craned to try and see his face.

“and you’re so fit,” you lifted a finger up with each compliment you listed, just trying to get a rise out of cloud, “and intelligent, and sweet, and—“

“okay, i think that’s enough.” he must’ve been flushed right now, he though.

“and you’re just so breathtaking.”

“you are such a liar.”

you dramatically feigned offense, putting a hand on your chest as your jaw dropped. “how dare you assume such things about me? i am simply loving my boyfriend, is that such a crime?”

he scoffed as a weak smile made its way to his face, “you’re loving torturing your boyfriend, there’s a difference.” however, his eyes widened as he felt your lips press against his jaw. he gave you a pointed glare, “see what i mean?”

“oh hush, you love it.”

#final fantasy 7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii x reader #ffvii x reader #ffvii cloud strife #ffvii fanfiction #ffvii cloud #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #ff7 x reader #ff7 fanfiction #ff7 cloud #ff7 #final fantasy 7 rebirth #final fantasy 7 x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy cloud #cloud strife #cloud strife x reader #ODOTTIE *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* #kiss kiss

[sonic-oc-showdown]

ROUND 2

Coke belongs to @lunapegasus

Zenyx belongs to @grimsdeadb0nes

Find out more about them below!

Cocaine "Coke" the Bear:

Cocaine the Bear, formerly known as Cain, grew up with parents who were crippling addicts and after seeing what drugs did to them he vowed to make a difference. When he was old enough he became the president of the D.A.R.E. program and inspired others to stay away from drugs. …But then one day, he found himself lost and hungry in the woods with little chance of survival. That is until he came across a large duffel bag of "sugar", desperate and delusional he ate all 70+ pounds of it. And he's never been the same since.

Zenyx:

Zenyx is a(n Offcolor) Zeti hailing from the Lost Hex, hidden from the eyes of all but a small handful for her own safety.

Described as exceedingly versatile and a fairly composed wild-card, she acts as The Deadly Six's secret Seventh member! The full extent of her outwardly behaviors is dependant on who she may be around or the situation at hand. She can be quite sweet and very caring to those she likes or is loyal to (which is a very limited list), but can otherwise be just as malicious as the rest of her Pack tend to be towards outsiders. However, unlike the other six, she won't always go out of her way to cause harm or misery UNLESS given proper reason to or provoked. She can be alittle hissy at times, but she's not inherently hot-headed like some; she just doesnt like her buttons being pushed or being lied to- or worse yet, her Pack being messed with.

Zenyx is extremely loyal to the Six and may be described as "caring alittle too much", as she enjoys keeping an eye on/spending time with each and every one if possible and making sure they're okay. She's very keen on stealth and being observant, a quick thinker that thinks ahead, and maybe a slight bit of a people pleaser towards certain individuals- but she isn't afraid to give her two cents either and often lacks a filter at times, offering a touch of sass and attitude. She can be very performative (to an extent) and likes trying to make things fun, being ultimately much more (surprisingly) pleasant than the rest of the Six.

In my Lost World Rewrite (currently still being worked on as of this Poll, yet to be properly revealed!), she is the main inclusion-difference and is by all means another rough obstacle for Sonic and Tails to get through. She managed to remain hidden while the rest of the Six were "conquered" by Eggman for a time, staying out of sight and scheming or helping behind the scenes- as well as working on a way to aid in their freedom before Sonic inevitably kicked the Cacophonic Conch from Eggman's grasp, speeding up that plan tenfold. Eggman was none the wiser to her existence until much later in the story, even going as far as aggressively denying the existence of a seventh in the stretch of area he had taken over when asked about it by Tails, because "If there was, I would have conquered them too!" or something.

She appears in much further stuff planned but thats all hush hush rn ;3!

#socs 2 poll #socs 2 round 2 #socs 2: coke #socs 2: zenyx

[thespottedfeather]

Awakening

Ominis x f!MC oneshot

Aged up, seventh year, very minor smut, possible spoilers for Hogwarts Legacy

touching self/kissing/talk of inappropriate acts

prompt: Y/N Y/L/N realises she wants to do naughty things with Ominis Gaunt. The boy who hates her and blames her for his best friends' descent into the dark arts.

words: 2.3k

--

Nothing was going as you had planned. Nothing was going as you had wanted. When you first started attending Hogwarts you had just wanted to fit in and be a normal witch, make friends, learn to use magic and find your lot in life. You’d never considered having a physical relationship with a boy before, it just hadn’t even been on your radar. You had once thought that perhaps there was something wrong with you that you weren’t interested in fooling around with others your age. Just like the muggle teenagers you’d known before, the other teenagers at Hogwarts seemed to be doused with hormones that had at least one pair a week getting detention for getting caught doing who knew what in a broom closet somewhere.

Maybe you were just weird. Another thing to make you stand out from the rest. First, your magic hadn’t emerged until much later, leading you to start Hogwarts in your fifth year. Then, you could somehow see traces of ancient magic which led you to become the target of Ranrok and Rookwood. THEN, you had been given watch over the repository and were now the sole living Keeper of that ancient magic. Now, here you were, starting your seventh year at Hogwarts and just like your magic, your hormones had come to screaming life much later than most, as soon as you saw him across the great hall.

Not your best friend Sebastian Sallow, the objectively attractive Slytherin who had taken you under his wing and helped you fight against Ranrok and complete the Keepers trials. Not the boy you’d spent most of fifth year with, leading to rumours that you were dating and were going to run away together and elope. Not the one you had become so close to that you knew basically everything about each other. No, the reason your heart was thudding so hard in your chest it made your ears ring was because of the boy, no, man, who sat beside Sebastian laughing at something the brunette had said.

Ominis Gaunt.

The heir of Slytherin. The most eligible bachelor at Hogwarts. The only guy you’d ever looked at and wondered ‘what if?’. The one who hated you beyond measure. After Sebastian’s delve into the Dark Arts at the end of fifth year, Ominis, whom you had only a shaky acquaintanceship at best, blamed you for his best friend’s decline. You had all agreed not to turn Sebastian in for the murder of his uncle, but Ominis had since only ever regarded you with disdain. He had never said that he blamed you for it, but what other reason could there possibly be for his retreat from you? He practically stopped talking to you altogether, and anytime you were forced to interact he seemed to be in pain just being around you. Eventually you just stopped trying to rekindle your budding friendship and let him be.

You looked at him now, his perfect pale skin and blonde hair seeming to glow in the light of the floating candles. His crystal blue eyes bright with laughter, and his body, gosh, he had grown up in the summer. His broad shoulders held with proud, perfect, posture, and the bearing of a man who knew he was devastatingly handsome. How could he not? Sure, Ominis was blind, but he just oozed charisma. Perhaps that was why he was so snarky all the time, to stop all the girls, and some boys, who only wanted him for his looks from getting too close.

It didn’t matter. Because you, despite your newfound libido, would also, never get the chance to find out who he was behind that snark. Ominis hated you, and he probably always would.

--

Weeks had past since the start of the school year, and you couldn’t have been happier. Your classes were going well, the Quidditch season was due to begin soon, and you’d been getting a strange amount of male attention of late. You supposed you had grown up a little over the summer, but as you never really thought of those kinds of things before it wasn’t something you’d noticed until you had started getting winks and flirtatious comments from some of the braver boys in class. Even Sebastian, who you knew thought of you as a sister, had commented that you had grown quite beautiful. Right before he threatened to break Garreth Weasley’s arm if he dared to wrap it around your shoulders again while sitting beside you in the great hall. You had laughed then, but now you stood staring into a full-length mirror in the undercroft trying to determine what exactly had become so appealing about you.

You had taken off your robe and were turning this way and that looking yourself over. You supposed your clothes did fit a bit more snug in certain areas now. Your breasts had filled out some more and caused your blouse to strain ever so slightly, and your hips flared out from your waist in a curve you might have described as pleasant if you weren’t worried about feeling vain. You pulled a few poses to check out your figure at different angles and wondered what it might be light to have somebody else touch your new curves in more than a fleeting hug. You hesitantly cupped your breasts and gave a light squeeze trying to imagine somebody else’s hands doing the touching. Your mind immediately only placed one person in that place and your cheeks burnt hot red in the mirror as you pictured Ominis’ deft hands stroking across your body.

“What are you doing here?” a cold voice spoke from the doorway making you jump.

“Ominis?” you squeaked out turning to face the object of your very inappropriate imaginations. Thank goodness he couldn’t see what you had been doing, your core still pulsed at the idea of him touching you. Having him in front of you now, looking so very perfect, nearly had a whimper escaping your lips.

“Who else would it be?” he asked as he sauntered over, “Sebastian is at Quidditch practice,”

“I know that” you said weakly backing up as he got closer, “I was just, not expecting company,” you blurted out.

“You sound flustered Y/L/N, what were you doing before I got here?” he asked raising his was towards you an assessing look on his features.

“Nothing,” you said, much too quickly.

“Somehow, I feel like I walked in on something I shouldn’t have,” he teased, “But you are alone…” he trailed off and tilted his head slightly to the side, crystal eyes not quite meeting you.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” you stated, “I was just looking in the mirror,”

“Looking in the mirror?” he asked and it struck you that this was the first conversation you had had with Ominis where he didn’t appear to want to run away.

“Trying to figure out what all the fuss is about,” you told him and turned back to the mirror not able to keep looking at the gorgeous man before you without doing or saying something you’d regret.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and you realised you could still see him behind you in the reflection, so you tried to keep your eyes on yourself.

“I’ve been getting…attention, this year I don’t normally get,” you told him truthfully, if only to keep the conversation going, maybe you could be friends now, maybe he had forgiven you, “I don’t understand why,”

“I see,” he murmured, “Well, I don’t, but I get what you mean,” he jested making you giggle. He seemed to think for a moment before nodding his head and stepping up close behind you so that you could almost feel his body heat.

“Ominis?” you asked cheeks burning hot again after only just cooling, voice barely a sound, “What are you doing?”

“I’m interested in ‘seeing what all the fuss is about’,” he stated and raised his wand allowing it’s red glow to illuminate your body as he traced your curves without touching you, “Is it true?” he asked as he continued his painstakingly slow mapping of your body.

“Is what true?” you asked him, mouth gone dry from how intimate this situation was and he wasn’t even touching you.

“What Sebastain keeps saying,” he says, “That you keep staring at me?”

“Oh…” you squeaked, not realising you’d been caught in your sneaky admiration across the great hall at meal times, “Umm…yes?” you asked, not sure where this was going.

“Why?” he asked you as he finished tracing your left side and deftly moved his wand across to your right.

“Well, umm,” your heart a beating fast now, and your could feel it everywhere, “because, well…”

“Because…?” he asked drawing you out, allowing the tip of his wand to gently, oh so gently, stroke along your hip. You couldn’t take it anymore. The words tumbled out in a blur.

“Because you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, and I can’t help but want to exist in the glow of your presence forever. I want to be close to you, I want to be able to touch you, I want you to touch me back in so many ways, if only I was worthy of such a gift. But I know that you hate me and so I just look at you from afar and dream of a time when you didn’t, when I got to enjoy your cunning wit, your incredible intelligence, your unending kindness, and be one of the people you care for right beside Sebastian and Anne,” your breath came out in pants and you flushed hot and cold all at once from embarrassment and dread at the thought you may have just ruined your one chance to renew a friendship with this absolutely beautiful man.

Ominis’ wand stopped moving against your body as he stared mouth slightly agape at your confession. You blinked hurriedly trying to regain some semblance of decorum.

“But, I’ll stop, I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry,” you mumbled and started to move away only to be stopped by Ominis’ cool hand gripping your elbow gently but determined.

“I don’t hate you,” he said gently, “What gave you that idea?”

“After fifth year, you started to avoid me,” you said glad that he was focusing on that part of your outburst instead of the more embarrassing parts, “You blame me for Sebastian, I know, and it’s ok, I’ve never resented you for it,”

“I don’t blame you for what Sebastian did,” he stated, “I backed off because I thought you loved him,”

“I don’t love Sebastian, I mean I do, as a brother,” you explained, shocked that Ominis had seemed to believe the rumours, “I’ve never looked at a guy with that thought it mind until this year,” you stopped, “Why would you have to back off?”

“Well, I thought that would be obvious,” he said, “because, how did you put it? ‘I want to be close to you, I want to be able to touch you, I want you to touch me back, if only I was worthy of such a gift’,” his voice was soft, a gentle purr directly into your ear, shocking you as you hadn’t realised, he’d moved so close.

“I…I had no idea,” you said, “I’m not good with emotional subtleties,” you explained, “I only realised this year that I even wanted to be close to anyone in that way,”

“and why is that?” he asked

“Because I’m weird?” you asked

“Not that Y/N, why did you realise this year?”

You were silent for a moment and turned to face him, looking up into his crystal eyes, getting lost in the galaxies within them, “because I saw you and my whole body caught on fire,” you stated bluntly.

“You can’t just say that kind of thing,” he said a lopsided grin on his face, “It’s very inappropriate, a man could get ideas,”

“Do you want to know what I was really doing when you came in here?” you asked, feeling brave.

“Is it going to give me ideas?” he asked tilting his head again in that way that drove you mad.

“I was touching myself,” you said and took his hand that wasn’t holding his wand and placed in on your waist, his fingers twitched against you and you guided his hand up to your ribs, “and thinking of you,”

“Y/N…” he groaned fingers gripping you slightly, “this is highly inappropriate,” he said walking you backwards until your back pressed against the stone of the wall. He braced his other arm above your head on the wall, the red glow of his wand illuminating his face in a way that highlighted the masculine lines of his face. Your hands lifted to rest on his chest, revelling in the feel of his tensile muscles beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

“I’m beginning to realise I want to do all kinds of inappropriate things with you Ominis,” you whispered.

“If we do this Y/N, I won’t be able to walk away again,” he said, his lips brushing against your own with each word, “If you decide you want another, I will not let that man live,”

“Merlin,” you moaned at the tone of his voice, “Just kiss me already,”

His lips were soft but demanding when they crashed against your own. A needy moan filled the air, and you weren’t sure which one of you it was that uttered the depraved sound. The kiss seemed to both last forever and not last long at all. Ominis’ body pressed up against yours and you felt deliciously trapped between him and the wall.

“You’re mine,” he stated, “I’m not letting you go again,”

“Took you guys long enough,” Sebastian’s voice called out happily causing you and Ominis to jerk apart, “I was beginning to think I’d have to lock you up in a broom closet together until you saw sense,”

“Go away, would you?” Ominis snapped making you giggle.

“Oh Ominis, you have to at least take her to dinner first,” Sebastian teased before laughing manically and running away as Ominis sprang towards him with the intention of whacking him upside the head.  

--

Send me prompts :)

-Feather-

#hogwarts legacy #ominisgaunt #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #best friend Sebastian Sallow #sebastian sallow #ominis x reader #ominis x oc #gaunt #fanfiction #oneshot #x reader #drabble #light angst #x you #angst

[scorpiussage]

The Lost Footage of You | Part 1 (Tom Buckley/OC)

Pairing: Tom Buckley (Red Lights)/OC

Summary: Tom gets called to a review a very odd case involving a young woman and some unexplainable found footage. 

Warnings: Violence, very dark themes

i.

Tom hates dealing with cops and he’s certain they hate him just as much. They watch him with open disdain as he gets buzzed through the locked security check points that keep the patients at Creekwood Sanitarium in and the regulars of society out. 

A nurse with the look of someone exhausted down to their soul meets him once he’s completely through security. She holds out a laminated visitors pass and he barely gets the chance to grab it and fix it to his clothes before she’s marching away from him down the main entrance corridor. 

“You’ll get thirty minutes to talk to her, so make it count,” the woman utters boredly, her gait surprisingly fast given her overall disposition and it causes Tom to have to power walk in order to keep up with her.  

“Er— right,” Tom replies weakly, trying to get his thoughts in order, “Has she said anything since being admitted?”

The nurse shoots him a sharp eyed, pursed lip look, “No.” 

Tom mentally adds “Nurses” to his ever growing list of things and people he hates. 

This entire case is sort of an unconventional one for Tom. Usually he’s exposing supposed psychics and tarot readers as fraudulent— never has he been asked by law enforcement to work on a case. 

Two weeks ago, six people were found brutally murdered at what appeared to be some sort of séance. A seventh person was found unconscious at the scene, a one Y/F/N Y/L/N, and with her a camcorder and a purse full of tapes. Now, Tom hasn’t seen the tapes yet, (he’s still waiting for clearance from the county judge to be allowed to watch them) but he’s been told roughly what they consist of. Whatever is on those tapes has law enforcement quaking in their boots. 

Tom has been called in to not only determine the validity of the tapes, but to also see if the young woman involved has some sort of supernatural ability. The police certainly think that the tapes are supernatural in nature. 

For a psychiatric facility, the living quarters of the patients and the inmates are actually pretty nice compared to the standard. Y/N has her own room and it has a few furnishings like a desk and a cushioned chair near the barred window. She’s sitting in said chair, starring out into the gray gloom of the facility grounds and the forest beyond them. 

This is the first look that Tom is getting of her and while they told him she was young, he’s still surprised. She can’t be older than 25 and she’s shockingly beautiful too. He sort of freezes in place when their eyes meet for the first time. He feels all too like the skinny weird kid he used to be and being faced with the local hottie. 

“Remember Mr. Buckley, 30 minutes,” the nurse says, shocking Tom out of his trance as she leaves the two of them alone, locking the door behind herself. 

Tom clears his throat awkwardly and takes a seat on the edge of Y/N’s desk, realizing too late that it probably makes him look like a middle school teacher trying to seem down to earth. 

“Hello,” he says with a weak smile, “I’m Dr. Tom Buckley.” 

“You don’t look like a doctor,” Y/N replies with a voice so soft that Tom has to lean forward to hear her better. 

“Er— I’m not a medical doctor, actually I’m a physicist.” 

Trying to grasp onto what to say next, Tom pulls the desk chair out and brings it over to where she’s sitting, placing himself in front of her, “I’m sort of a specialist in my particular field.” 

The woman stares at him blankly and it prompts him to start info dumping, “I deal with uncovering frauds who claim to be psychic or to have supernatural abilities. Not to say that that’s what you are, but that’s why I’m here.” 

The woman nods, “The police think I killed all those people.” 

Tom winces, “Um, yeah, they do.” 

Sinking into her chair she regards him with those piercing eyes of hers, almost making him feel like he’s being dissected. 

“Sometimes things happen around me that don’t make sense,” she says after a while, cutting off Tom who was about to start asking questions if only to fill the silence, “I carry around a videocamera to document everything.” 

“Have you? Documented these weird happenings?”

Y/N fidgets, her eyes darting to look back out the window, “A friend of a friend of a friend heard about me and requested me to do this séance? Like with a ouija board and stuff? I didn’t really want to do it but he said he’d pay me for my time.”

She takes a deep breath here, seemingly struggling to say out loud what occurred, “I told them it was a bad idea. The weird things that happen around me? The energies don’t like being taunted and I told those people that but they didn’t listen to me.” 

Tom quickly pulls out a notebook and pen, ready to take notes, “Can you tell me a bit more about these ‘energies’? What do they do?” 

“I— I wouldn’t call them ghosts, that seems too simple to what they are. They just— they’re always there, following me around? They get mad if I ignore them too long or if I try to provoke them.” 

“What do they do if you ignore them?” He asks. 

Y/N bites her lip nervously, eyeing him like she’s trying to decide if he’s trustworthy or not. She must come to the conclusion that he is, because she turns around in her chair and lifts up the back of her shirt. 

Tom’s notebook and pen go clattering to the floor, his shock audible in the horrified gasp he lets out. Big ugly bruises and weeping claw marks mar her back, in locations and styles that she would not be able to do to herself. 

Tom thinks that this case is going to end up being more than he bargained for. 

ii.

Tom isn’t sure what to expect when he finally gets approval to view the video tapes. He’s left alone in an unused interrogation room with a small box TV and a larger-than-he-expected stack of tapes. None of them are labeled and the cop that escorted him to the room fucked off without saying anything. 

With a deep sigh, Tom grabs the first tape on the top and pushes it into the VCR. It starts off how all home made videos are want to do, with jumbled, unfocused images before they finally settle.

It’s Y/N filming herself through the reflection of a bathroom mirror. She’s breathing heavily and the camera is shaking with her unsteady hands. Gulping audibly, she starts talking, “It’s— uh— Tuesday, August the 5th. The noises are back.” 

She jumps when a loud thump echoes in the background. She swings the camera to face a closed door— either the door to the bathroom or a closet, Tom can’t tell. Everything is still and quiet before another bang visibly rattles the door in its frame. Like someone slammed their fist into it. 

Y/N drops the camera in fright, the visual becoming that of her feet and the bottom of the door. 

Tom is both captivated and horrified, this whole thing is playing out like a real life horror movie.

“Don’t do it, don’t open the door,” he mutters to himself, both literally and figuratively on the edge of his seat. He holds his breath when she cracks the door.

She stands there for a moment before reaching down and picking up the camera. The door is now open to show a tightly packed linen closet. There’s absolutely no where a person could hide in that. 

Tom turns off the TV. 

iii.

The next time Tom goes to visit her, it’s during the patients’ outside recreational time. She’s sat off by herself under the shade of a large tree and she’s ripping up fistfuls of grass boredly. Tom rubs his sweaty palms on his pants before taking a seat near her. 

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, “How are you?”

She shrugs and he tries to figure out what to say next. 

“How long have weird things been happening to you?” He eventually lands on, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Since I was a kid, I guess? My mom kept making us move because she was convinced the houses we lived in were haunted.” 

The ‘but it’s actually me’ goes unsaid. Tom feels a lot of sympathy for her, he can’t imagine being terrorized by unseen forces for years. He doesn’t really know how to express that sentiment to her though without flat out saying her life is a fucking horror movie. 

Deciding to change trajectory of the conversation, he asks, “Can you tell me more about that night?”

“It was supposed to be a seance,” she tells him and then after a long pause adds, “I think.” 

He frowns, “You think?”

She brushes the loose grass off of her palms, “The set up was really weird. Everyone was in a circle and they made me sit in the middle.”

“You were in the middle?”

She nods, “I brought my camera, but they told me I wasn’t allowed to film. I lied about turning it off and left it recording inside my bag. I just felt weird about the whole thing.” 

Tom bites at his thumb as he thinks. He hasn’t made it to the video of that night yet and this conversation is creating more questions than answers. 

“What happened next?” He finally asks. 

“That’s the thing. I can’t remember.” 

iv

Tom doesn’t know how many more of the tapes he can watch. Each one is more horrifying than the last and if it were him, he would’ve taken a swan dive off a building out of sheer terror. 

For not the first time, he wishes Margaret was still alive to give him some guidance on what to do. Part of him feels relief that there’s another with strange abilities, but not at the suffering of this poor woman. 

He’s only halfway through the stack and he feels like this entire experience has aged him 10 years. With an exhausted sigh, he pops the next one into the VCR and hits play. 

The video starts off with a visual of the end of her bed before she turns the camera around to show her face. The lighting is poor, coming only from the faint glow of her bedside lamp. 

“It’s 2:38 am,” her voice is in a hushed whisper like she’s afraid of being overheard, “There’s something under my bed.” 

She peeks the camera over the edge of her bed to show her wooden floors. Nothing happens for a long moment before the camera jolts as the bed is shaken in its frame. She lets out a scream and buries herself under the covers like a child would, bringing the camera with her. The video goes on with a close up of her panicked face until eventually she falls asleep. 

Tom feels like he’s the only one who’s capable of protecting her. 

to be continued...

#there's so little love for Tom I thought it was high time he got his own fic 💖 #tom buckley #tom buckley/oc #tom buckley/reader #tom buckley fic #tom buckley x oc #tom buckley x reader #red lights movie #red lights #tom buckley red lights #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy/oc #cillian murphy/reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Counting Stars

Summary: Mel didn't know she would ever get out of the hospital that had become her prison. Year after year she lost everything. But then when she finally got the chance to escape she took it. And all thanks to the man who took down everything in his path to get to his daughter. Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Melanie Summer

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: T

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Angst, Guns, Violence, Lies, Pregnancy, talk about forced pregnancies, talk about childbirth, mention of child death, mentions of human experiments, character death, slowish burn, changing POV's

A/N: Did I plan to write this? No. Do I know how often I'm gonna update this? Also no.

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for updates

Counting Stars Masterlist

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

No. 

That was a lie.

It was probably the first time in a long time that he was thinking clearly. His only thought was to get Ellie and get her out of this god forsaken hospital and to safety. 

No matter the costs. 

He should have known they were gonna pull something like that. In what fucking world was he living that people were willing to sacrifice innocent kids?

Deep down he feared that even if Ellie had been given a choice, she would have chosen to go through with it. But he couldn’t think about it now. 

He could not lose her. He could not lose another child. 

He didn’t know how many Fireflies he shot on his way to pediatrics. He didn’t care about how many Fireflies he shot to get to her.  

Deadly calm he took out everyone in his way until he found himself in front of the operation room. Surely they knew he was coming, the gunshots echoing through the whole building. That was good. He wanted them to know what was coming for whoever intended to kill an innocent girl for a chance of a cure. 

As if that shit would really work. 

Even if it would work, it would just be another way for the Fireflies to seek control over everything and everyone.

A noise behind him had him whip his head around, his gun pointing at the intruder, his finger hovering over the trigger. 

It was a woman.

Dressed only in a dirty hospital gown. His eyes scanned her all over, finding both of her wrists bloodied and bruised. She looked sick, no exhausted. 

“Please….” she whispered, one of her hands holding on to the doorway to keep herself upright, her other hand laying protectively on her belly. He inhaled sharply. She was pregnant. 

He didn’t have time for that. He should take care of her. Shoot her right then and there. But something held him back. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath he turned away from her and opened the door to take care of getting Ellie out of there. 

Mel thought she was dreaming at first when she came back to consciousness. 

Her eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to properly open her eyes at first. 

Gunshots.

There were gunshots outside. 

That must have been what woke her from her deep, medically induced, sleep.

Trying to move her arm she was surprised she could, having been cuffed to the bed for… she couldn’t really remember when her wrists hadn’t been in handcuffs the last time. Even when she was allowed to get out of bed, there was always someone with her. She wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom by herself. All because of her “important purpose”.

They said it was to keep her safe. 

But she knew that was a lie. 

They were only interested in what was growing inside of her. Her hand shakily found her swollen belly. She thinks she was in the seventh month? She didn’t know how long she had been out. Finally blinking her eyes open, she found that her wrists still were swollen, so it couldn’t be too long. 

But… why wasn’t she handcuffed?

And… why was no one with her?

The gunshots came closer and she groaned as she sat herself up, slipping her legs out of bed, getting up shakily. 

Tears escaped her eyes, when she felt the baby, a girl as she had learned from fucking Marlene, move inside of her. She didn’t know why they kept telling her what sex the baby had when they would take them away from her anyway. 

Some fucking torture, as if keeping her pregnant against her will for… she didn’t know exactly how many years now, wasn’t torture enough. 

She was tired. 

She did not want to be here. But she was all because she trusted the wrong person with her secret. Someone who sold her over some fucking supplies so the Fireflies could keep her as living incubator. 

Because Mel was immune to cordyceps and someone who wasn’t even a real Doctor was telling anyone he could find a cure if he just had enough source material. 

Source Material. 

She wasn’t even a human being to them, just some… thing to get to what they wanted. Or more like dreamed.

Gathering all her strength she waddled over to the door, a sigh of relief escaping her when she found it unlocked. 

A dead Firefly was laying on the floor as she looked inside the corridor.

Her hand held onto the doorway, startled when a man across the floor turned around to her, his gun pointed at her. 

Adrenaline shot through her veins. 

Who was he?

What was he doing here?

“Please,” she whispered, her hand on her belly. She didn’t know what she was pleading for. Her death or his help. 

He just kept looking at her with dark eyes, inhaling sharply. 

After a moment he turned away from her and walked into the operating room, leaving her alone again. 

She leaned her head against the doorway, closing her eyes. 

Her baby kicked again. 

She knew that this most likely would be her only chance. Turning back around she went back into her room in search of some clothing. She had been allowed to go outside a month or so ago, so there should be some shoes and some clothes. 

She heard some gunshots, startling her again, as she got dressed. 

She threw everything she thought she could need, some bottles of water, some food, some medicine, on the bed cloth before she grabbed it to make a makeshift sack out of it. Throwing it over her shoulder she could only hope the man had taken care of all the Fireflies as she slowly made her way out of her prison and down the hall, where she knew the stairs were. 

Joel was carrying his Ellie in his arms down the corridor to the elevator, hoping it would world and bring him down into the parking garage, gun still in his hand hidden from view. He hoped he would find a car he could use to get them the fuck out of here. 

He was about to round the corner to the elevator when he found the woman inside, her hand holding it open for him.

It was her, the pregnant woman from before. 

She was looking up at him with her green eyes, before her eyes flew to the girl in his arms. His jaw twitched. He should have shot her, but something held him back. He continued to look at her, swallowing harshly when he noticed a familiar scar on her temple.

“Will she be okay?” she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, before he gave her a nod. 

“Good. Take her as far away from them as you can,” she nodded at him, stepping back and Joel didn’t know why, but he got into the elevator with her, pressing the button to the underground garage. 

The door opened and the woman was about to step outside, when he told her to wait. 

“Look if there’s someone out there first,” he said. She nodded, taking a careful look around. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone out,” she whispered. 

“Okay,” he nodded, following her out, looking around carefully. The adrenaline was wearing off and his knees were killing him. 

There were some cars here, some looking newer than others. 

The woman was already making her way to one of the cars, batteries charging in front of them.

He knew he should just take Ellie and leave. It was the easier choice really. This woman he just met was nothing to him. Just a random woman he spared while taking down all the Fireflies that only breathed in his dau… Ellie’s direction. 

A woman with at least one scar on the same spot as he had one.

“You can’t keep her safe forever,” he turned around, finding Marlene walking towards him, her gun pointed at him. 

“No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she's gonna grow up, Joel. And then you'll die. She'll leave. Then what? How long till she's torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved,” Marlene said. 

Maybe she would have gotten through to him months ago, before the girl in his arms became his whole world. 

But that Joel didn’t exist anymore. He looked at Ellie in his arms.

“Maybe. But it isn't for you to decide,” he said. He saw Marlene’s eyes focus on something behind him, most likely the pregnant woman, yet he didn’t dare to turn around. And a weird case of panic took over his body. He had to protect her. Them. Ellie and the woman.

“Or you. So what would she decide, huh? 'Cause I think she'd wanna do what's right. And you know it. It's not too late. Even now... even after what you've done. We can still find a way,” Marlene lowered the gun, seemingly feeling safe that she was getting through to him. 

She should have known better.

Mel had lowered her makeshift sack on the ground when she heard Marlene’s voice. 

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, still covered behind the car, hoping the woman hadn’t seen her. Taking a deep breath she looked around for something she could use as a weapon, almost crying out in relief when she found several guns on the backseat of the car.

After checking if they were loaded she decided that it was time to end this for all time. She did not want to be on the run for the rest of her life, hoping that the man had taken care of as many of these so-called saviours as possible. 

She listened to Marlene trying to convince the man to make the right choice. To let the girl go. That they could still find a way. 

Mel was used to their talks. Before Marlene there was Wyatt who told her the same lies over and over. As if she had a choice in their scheme.

“Why do you get to decide what is right?” she stepped next to the man, her gun pointed at Marlene who somewhat looked surprised at her, her gun pointing back up.

“Do you think it’s right what you did to me? What you wanted to do to his child? Does it make you feel better if you keep telling yourself all those lies?!”

“I am not lying. You both are the key to ending all of this,” Marlene insisted. 

Mel shot Marlene’s leg, making the man next to her flinch. 

“Fucking liar!” she screamed, getting closer to her, only stopped when the man came to stop in front of her. She looked at him, her gun still pointed at Marlene who was groaning in pain. 

“We all have to make sacrifices to end this,” Marlene wheezed. 

“Sacrifices?” Mel scoffed, stepping around the man so she could look Marlene into her eyes. “What kind of sacrifices did you have to make? Huh?”

Marlene glared at Mel.

“Is that what you call making me go through five pregnancies and taking my babies away from me as soon as they were out to experiment on them? To kill them?”

Something broke in Joel when he heard those words coming from he woman next to him 

“But you won’t have this baby. And you won’t have her either,” she said, before shooting Marlene again, this time in the stomach. She turned around, catching Joel’s eyes as she made her way back to the car. 

Joel decided to follow her, not seeing Marlene as a big threat at the moment. 

“You're gonna regret this. You gonna fucking regret this,” Marlene hissed after them but they weren’t listening. The woman helped him lie Ellie carefully on the backseat. 

“Get into the passenger's seat,” he murmured at her and she looked at him. 

“You sure?” she asked. Against all odds he found himself nodding, checking Ellie for one last time before he went back to Marlene.

“No, wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Marlene pleaded, “Please. Let me go.”

“You'd just come after her,” he said, not knowing if he meant Ellie or the woman, or both, before he shot her. 

It was after passing the sign that he made it out of Salt Lake City that he felt like he could breathe again. 

“Peanut?” she asked and he turned his head as the woman held up a can of salted peanuts. 

“Sure,” he mumbled and she gave him a small smile, letting some peanuts fall in his outreached hand. 

“I’m Mel by the way,” she introduced herself. He didn’t even realise that he hadn't known her name until this very moment. 

“Joel. I’m Joel,” he said and she smiled at him. 

“Thank you for saving our life, Joel,” she whispered, her hand on her belly and he noticed another scar on the back of her hand that mirrored his own.  

He gulped, his eyes back on the road again. 

“You’re welcome.”

#my fic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x ofc #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[zvdvdlvr]

— Give Me A Reason

synopsis. You want to be an Auror. As one of his favorite and brightest students, Aesop tries to convince you to not put your life on the line for a job. warnings. Making out. Age gap. Student/teacher. Self deprecation. Reader is the hero of hogwarts. R is in seventh year (aged 18). Mutual pining. Idiots. “In all seven years of my student-ing,” you said abruptly, drawing Professor Sharp’s attention from the essays he graded. “I’ve only heard you bring up your Auror days twice. May I go as far as to ask why?”

The man leaned back in his chair, watching the student he had grown to care for as… Professor Sharp watched you keep a careful eye on your Vertiserum as you organized potion ingredients on his shelves. “There isn’t much to speak about anymore. It was dangerous, and even when it wasn’t… there was never a moment in my life I wouldn’t look over my shoulder at every snap of a twig.”

“But…?” You prompted, knowing the potion’s master had more to tell you: he just liked to torture you.

“But the job has it’s… rewards. The pay is good. I hated the paperwork though.”

“Ew,” you agreed, moving onto the next shelf after adjusting the temperature of the fire below the cauldron.

A seed of fear suddenly bloomed in Aesop’s mind. “Is there a reason you’re asking about Aurors?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only jobs I’m interested in. I have the grades for it, the experience,” you bit your lip, a rush of memories crossing your brain as you thought about all the escapades you pulled off in your first (fifth) year at Hogwarts. “It’s… the only job I see myself doing.”

Professor Sharp felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way he was sending in one of the brightest students he’d ever taught into a system that would likely kill her. “The paperwork is what you’d be stuck doing most of the time,” the man lied.

You looked surprised. “Oh.”

Aesop felt a flush of hope in his chest, hoping desperately to persuade you away from the career of an Auror. Anything but that.

“I’d still do it,” you said finally, a determined tone in your voice.

The hope died. “I see,” Aesop murmured disapprovingly.

“Why do I get a feeling you aren’t thrilled about my career choice?” You asked, finishing the second shelf.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on. Points to (your house),” Aesop wittly replied. His small smile disappeared. “Miss y/l/n, to be quite frank with you, the job will take a toll on you- mentally and physically. Not only will you undergo numerous field injuries, there is always the chance you would… die. This job is dangerous, isolating, and overall not a very enviable job.”

You just nodded. “I understand that risk, Professor. But I have a reason for wanting the job. I have a reason to put my life on the line for others. A reason for… for my own life to be sacrificed for others to live peacefully, should the time come. I’ve already thought this through.”

“Then tell me your reason. Give me a reason why your life is not as important as others’s?” Professor asked, sharp eyes watching your rigid form slowly turn to him.

“I’ve nothing keeping me here. I have the talent, and you cannot deny it. This- This is the only thing I’ll have after graduation! I- Professor, please don’t talk me out of this,” you pleaded, eyes glinting in the dim light of the classroom.

Now you’ve done it, old man. But he pressed on. “‘Nothing keeping you here’?!” The man stood up, furious, disappointed, and… surprisingly sad. “This isn’t a joke, y/l/n. You have plenty of things ‘keeping you here’! Your little Sallow friend, that Sweeting girl, the blind boy you sit by,” Aesop listed angrily, unconsciously stalking towards you. “Merlin, you have-“ he cut himself off abruptly, realizing the word he was going to say after. Me. Me, y/n, you have me. A part of Aesop scoffed: idiot, you are; only a fool would want an old cripple like you and everyone knows y/n isn’t a fool- besides, she’s a student. Date a student and people are going to wonder if you were given special treatment.

”Who else, Professor?” You asked, tilting your head to look at the man you had been crushing on for the last few years. Please, you thought, say it.

You took the smallest step forward, making Aesop realize how close he was to you. Your intense gaze held him there, refusing to move. He knew what you wanted, and he knew it would be disastrous if he gave in. But, truly, he was only a man. Standing in fromt of an intelligent, talented, beautiful, and witty woman. “Me,” the man whispered, tearing his gaze away from you.

“Give me a reason not to, Aesop. Give me a reason to st-“ you hadn’t finished your sentance before Aesop’s shaking hands grasped your side and pulled, forcing your body against his. He kept one hand on your nack, lightly holding onto him in case you suddenly fled for the door and moved one callused hand to your face. He brushed away a stray hair and his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Aesop whispered. His voice, low and gravely, made you shudder against his body.

Your eyelashed fluttered as you struggled to stay calm in his overwhelming presence. “Kiss me.”

Aesop’s lips locked onto yours, a low groan bubbling out of his mouth and being swallowed by yours as you kissed back with the same passion as he. Aesop cursed himself, knowing you could easily realize who you were making out with and run off, taking Aesop’s heart with you.

But maybe you needed this as much as he did. Your small gasps and whimpers surely fanned the flames of Aesop’s hope that you wanted him. Your hand slid up Aesop’s wide back and threaded into his hair, tangling. He groaned at your actions.

You pulled away abruptly, resting your forhead on Aesop’s shoulder. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Was that good enough of a reason?” Aesop asked, knowing full well you were still probably imagining yourself as an Auror.

“Kiss me again and I’ll see if it was truly satisfactory,” you joked, looking up at the man who’s heart was currently in your unknowing hands.

“Y/n,” Aesop finally murmured, hand still on the small of your back. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

”What?”

“Promise me when you’re on the field… promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I promise. Sir, what-“

“I can’t damage your reputation by being in public with you like this. As much as I wish, it cannot be. At least, not in the near future,” he whispered, resting his chin on your head.

“I know.”

Silence fell over the pair: you not wanting to move from Aesop’s comforting arms and Aesop not wanting you to go.

“I think your Veritaserum is done,” Aesop said.

You laughed, still clinging to Aesop.

#aesop sharp #fluff #x female reader #jules writes 📓🖊 #female reader #x reader #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #wizarding world #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #daddy sharp #hogwarts legacy meme

[incorrect-house-of-nine]

Some Locked Tomb Meta on this Fine Saturday Morning.

Somethings been bugging since the back half of Gideon the Ninth and throughout Harrow the Ninth.  Like, if we think about it... John seemingly knows a lot more about the houses than he's letting on. And he decides now is the time to call for reinforcements of Lyctors, when he could have damn well asked at any point in the last myriad? But he waits until the Ninth is in its last legs? It's curious as to Why?

Bear with me on this.. (its percolating in my brain.)

None of the Lyctors have kids right? (It’s suggests by Mercy’s eggs dying that they might struggle to carry to term or just plain not be able to.)   Surely, he must know that if he takes the heirs of the houses... hes taking the heirs of the houses! 

Which is neither here nor there of importance to the Sixth (gain that title by examination) , the Fourth (always with contingency aware of them potentially dying in youth), the Fifth (siblings), the Seventh (always willing to attempt to eugenics cancer into their bloodline), the Second (occupational hazard) the Eight (paladins of his religion) but the Ninth???

The Ninth, potentially the most important house given what they are guarding, he calls their only heir, from a house with no conceivable way of continuing as they have no technology out side of doing it the old fashioned horizontal tango?

If the heir to the house was a boy, well he could sow his wild oats and get any number of girls pregnant, possibly without anyone's knowledge. But the heir is a hopelessly devout girl on the cusp of adulthood!

Why now, John? The call to Canaan House heads off at the pass any potential marriage alliances. (If her devoutness and chastity doesn't doom them first, but best to not take any chances, am I right?)

Once he got his hands on her, and tells her she can't go home. (Mercy and Cytherea both hint He’s dying to get his hands on her, and at this juncture he has no freaking idea she’s a mini resurrection on the molecular level or any idea about Gideon Nav.) Of course he can renew Harrow’s house.. Cause as far as he’s concerned at that point, her bloodline has been successfully broken!! He wasn’t counting on her being a mini resurrection --- that her cav would be his daughter, or that Harrow had already bypassed the tomb -- this throws doubt into the mix. Doubt that he knows what she is, doubt that he knows what she is capable of as a Lyctor. He rightfully gets the shits put up him when it comes to light he’s dealing with a god damn genius. (who begins to incorporate all knowledge she has gleaned from all the others houses and their personal applications of their house’s brand of necromancy. <-- a different post at some point) He straight up goes to full on assassination to ‘’put her down or fix her’.’ What are you afraid of John Gaius?

(I dunno what I'm trying to say her.. Its on the foggy on the edge of my brain, just out of reach. )

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #mild nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #the locked tomb meta #locked tomb meta

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Honey Bun (18+ Series)

(Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader)

Part 4 // MINORS DNI

WC: 2.0k Words

Song Inspo: Angel - Kali Uchis

Series Warnings: Smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama, and that's all I can think of rn but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: hahaha sorry for today's spam babes but I couldn't wait for y'all to read this!!!! Should I start a taglist? If so, let me know if you'd like to be added! And lmk your thoughts on this :)

-----------------

Aaron drove you home the next day, after another slow, lazy round of morning sex, of course. The two of you could barely keep your hands off each other now that you’d caved in to your desires. 

After many more hours of lovemaking, you’d had late night pillow talk before falling asleep in his arms. Normally you preferred sleeping in your own bed, but you were so comfortable snuggled up with him that you slept like a log. It also helped that you were completely and utterly sated, basically swimming in endorphins.

Sadie bombarded you with questions when you got back home. You avoided any specific details, but you gushed over what a great time you’d had. She teased you whenever she caught you smiling to yourself, lost in thought. Also when you loudly sang in the shower, or repeatedly glanced down at your phone whenever you got a text. The teasing was endless.

Still, you were on cloud nine for the next couple of days. Aaron had to travel due to work, and you weren’t quite sure when he’d be back. You missed him terribly, but you knew it was all part of it from the beginning. 

At least he kept in touch whenever he had the chance, but you didn’t pressure him whenever it took him hours to respond. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him to some eye candy in the late hours of the night, reminding him of what was waiting for him when he returned.

You decided to occupy your mind with work and Gia’s upcoming birthday. You’d already planned on taking her and Sadie shopping so that she could pick out a gift. It’s been a particularly good month, so you didn’t mind splurging a little on someone you loved.

When the day came, the three of you drove to an outdoor mall with more upscale shops, given that you wanted to be fancy. It was a nice, sunny day, so you finally got to wear that long, form-fitting sundress you’d recently bought. It hugged your figure in all the right ways, accentuating your curves. Gia acted like a cartoon wolf when she first saw you, panting and widening her eyes, comically howling “Awooooga!”

You’d rolled your eyes, unable to hold in a laugh. You’d finally caved and told her about Aaron a couple of days prior, so she’d joined Sadie in her interrogations and relentless teasing.

“So, when are we going to meet him?” She asked as the three of you sat down for brunch. “He needs the seal of approval, you know.”

You chuckled. “Easy there, tigress. Gotta ease him into it still. It’s only been a couple of dates.”

“Just you wait until Derek finds out. You really are not gonna hear the end of it.”

“Speaking of…” You smirked at her as you took a sip of your mimosa. “You two celebrating tonight?”

Gia wagged her eyebrows comically, suggesting mischief. “Oh yeah. I know he’s been very busy, but he promised to make time for my birthday.”

Sadie rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you guys are soooo sappy.”

“Wait ‘till you find someone you like, and then we’ll talk,” Gia said.

“She acts like she doesn’t crush super easily,” you added, raising your eyebrows. “Hard to keep up sometimes.”

Sadie smacked your arm playfully, shooting you a glare. Gia chuckled at this, already knowing how your sister could be. It seemed like being a romantic was a family trait.

You toasted to Gia’s twenty-seventh, wishing her many more good years to come. Though you had known her only a handful of years, she was like another sister to you. Friendships like that were few and far between, so you always cherished them even more.

Once brunch was over, the three of you walked around and peered at all the storefronts in case anything caught Gia’s eye. The first stop was at an expensive lingerie shop, but she insisted on paying for her own, since she needed some new stuff anyway. You already had an idea for a gift after you’d spotted a Tiffany’s earlier, but you’d have to lure her there afterwards.

She modeled some of the lingerie for you and Sadie, the two of you whistling appreciatively and cheering her on when something fit her particularly well. As she changed into another lacy ensemble, an emerald teddy caught your eye. It was a beautiful piece, made of fine satin and lace, and it just happened to be in one of your favorite colors.

“You should try it on,” Sadie said when she noticed you staring. 

Gia emerged from behind the curtain, adjusting her garter belt. “Oh my god, yes! You have to. It’d look so hot on you.”

You hummed in thought. “I have plenty of lingerie as it is…”

“Never enough, Honey Bunny. Now get in that fitting room!”

You sighed, acquiescing. You changed into it and looked in the mirror. Your fingers ghosted over the fabric as you admired the way it looked on you. There were a couple of gaps here and there where skin would enticingly show, and you wondered how Aaron might react to it. You wanted to find out, so you immediately decided you would in fact be buying it. 

Gia’s jaw dropped when you emerged so they could see. “Oh, your man is going to go insane when he sees you in that. I’d be surprised if I’m not an aunt nine months after that.”

“Ditto,” Sadie added. 

“Guys!” You cackled in surprise, waving them off. “None of that!”

“I’m just saying. You’re gonna bring him to his knees,” Gia said, your sister nodding along.

“Just how I like ‘em,” you smirked. 

After changing back into your clothes and paying at the front, you helped Gia haul her bags. Turned out, she liked most of the things she’d tried on.

“Derek’s gonna be really spoiled, is all I’m saying,” you chuckled, glancing over at her.

“Only means I’ll be spoiling her back twice as much.”

His familiar voice made you whip around. Derek was standing outside of the Armani store, looking equally surprised at running into the three of you. Your eyes widened some as you stopped in your tracks. Excitement broke over Gia’s features, but she hesitated, unsure of what to do. 

Rarely did either of you see Derek outside of the Crimson Lounge, especially during the day. Sure, you were friends, but no one in his personal life knew of his escapades. You didn’t know much about what he did, but you knew it was important. You respected his decisions, as did Gia. She’d confided to you that she didn’t mind the secrecy as long as he continued being a constant in her life. 

For his part, Derek had his signature smirk, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was trying to keep his cool, you could tell, but he was nervous. He eyed the bags you two carried, a mischievous glint appearing in his eye.

“Happy birthday, Gigi,” he said with a wink. “I meant what I said a moment ago, just so you know.”

Gia’s smile turned sheepish, and she blushed a little. “We’ll see about that later.”

“You out buying a suit for tonight?” You asked him, trying to sound casual, teasing even. 

“Actually, I’m here with–”

At that moment, you were shocked to see Aaron walking out of the store, looking down at his watch and carrying one bag. He looked utterly handsome in a black polo and black jeans, more casual than you’d ever seen him. The familiar smell of his cologne wafted over to you, rooting you to the spot. 

“Morgan, I took your advice and went with the…Oh,” Aaron looked up and blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Honey, what a surprise.”

Derek raised an eyebrow in your direction, and you shook your head almost imperceptibly.

“Hi,” you said, waving awkwardly, an unsure smile on your face. “I, uh, didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Just got in last night, it’s been very hectic. Sorry for not letting you know,” he cleared his throat, looking over to Derek. “You guys know each other?”

“We have a friend in common,” you said quickly, gesturing to Gia. 

“Hi, nice to meet you!” she said, overly cheerful as she offered him her hand. “I’m Gia, her best friend.”

“And I’m Sadie,” your sister chimed in. 

Aaron shook both their hands, smiling amicably as he introduced himself. Even so, there was a tension in the air that wouldn’t easily dissipate. He could tell there was more to the story, but he didn’t want to press. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to feel a certain way about it.

 For a moment, no one knew what to say.

“So you two…?” You ventured, pointing between him and Derek.

“We work together.”

“We had to come shopping for an upcoming work gala,” Derek added. “There’s an unspoken competition for best dressed at those events.”

“And of course, you just have to win it.”

Derek winked. “You know it.”

You huffed in amusement, unable to help rolling your eyes, a small smile on your face. Aaron’s brows furrowed a bit, even more surprised by your blatant familiarity. Clearly, Derek wasn’t just a friend of a friend.

His eyes flicked between you, assessing. You made eye contact with him for a fraction of a second, quickly looking away.

You adjusted your purse higher on your shoulder, and Aaron tracked the movement with his eyes. His gaze was then drawn lower, to the way your dress clung to your body. He swallowed hard, nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly.

If you looked, you’d see a myriad of emotions warring in his dark eyes — apprehension, longing, confusion, and others that were harder to decipher.

But you couldn’t really bring yourself to. For some reason, you felt like you’d been caught doing something wrong, even if that wasn’t the case.

“What a crazy coincidence, isn’t it?” Gia quickly chimed in. “We work together, too.”

“At the Duchess?” Aaron asked.

“No, uh… elsewhere. But yeah, same sort of thing.” She shot you a panicked look, biting her lip to keep herself from rambling.

Whenever she was nervous, Gia had a tendency to overshare. If Aaron asked any more questions, you weren’t sure she wouldn’t cave. You needed to get out of there before she spilled something she couldn’t take back. Derek was aware of this, too.

“Um, well, it was nice seeing you two. We’ve still got some shopping to do but uh… yeah,” you said with a lopsided smile, gesturing to Aaron. “Call me later?”

He nodded, but said nothing, his lips pursed. Gia waved Derek goodbye as you hastily dragged her and Sadie away. You couldn’t even glance over your shoulder as you got further and further away.

“That was rough,” Sadie sighed heavily. “Not the first impression I was expecting.”

Gia wrung her fingers anxiously, glancing over her shoulder. “Do you think Derek’s gonna tell him?”

“He wouldn’t do that to us,” you declared with as much conviction as you could muster.

You were afraid he’d be put on the spot and have to explain himself. You wanted to believe he would have the decency to let you be the one to bring it up with Aaron first… but you just never knew.

You’d been so sure that you could put it off for some more time, but it seemed like life had other plans. You were going to have to talk to Aaron, and you were going to tell him everything. If things were going to progress between you, all cards would have to be on the table.

“Maybe it’s about him seeing it for himself,” you mused aloud. 

“Ease him into it, though,” Gia said slowly, unsure of what you were planning. “Maybe a private show?”

“Maybe indeed,”  you inclined your head a little, the gears in your mind continuing to quickly spin.

#aaron hotcher #aaron hotchner x stripper!reader #ssa aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #honey bun #series #minors dni

[flowerpottlady]

Shine

Day 5 of my domestic Jily series! Inspired by @jilymicrofics

***

Lily stepped from the bathtub, ever so carefully, still completely unused to the added weight tacked onto her midsection. She stuck a blind hand out, reaching for a clean towel from the pile on the counter, and wrapped herself in it - wondering just how much bigger her bump would grow before she would have to charm the towels to accommodate for her new size. 

She could hear James pacing from the next room over, ready to leave over half an hour ago, when Lily decided she needed a quick shower before venturing out into the Muggle world - a secret date that James had planned on his rare night off from Order duties. 

Lily decided to take her time though, it wasn’t often she got the chance to dress up, and at thirty weeks pregnant it took a while to do almost anything nowadays. She picked up her wand first, using it to quickly dry her hair, marveling at the thickness of it, the shine, that pregnancy had given her auburn locks. She dabbed some makeup on, deciding that a spot of pale pink blush on her cheekbones helped to take away from the slightly chubby cheeks she had recently developed. 

After outlining her eyes with a charcoal pencil, brushing some golden eyeshadow across her lids, and swiping the dark mascara over her eyelashes - Lily took a moment to stare at her, relishing in how unnatural she felt in her body.  Like it wasn’t hers anymore. 

Her once flat stomach bulged from her. Her body changed in unimaginable ways, all for her child. While her back hurt, her breasts ached, and she was certain there was a foot lodged into her spleen - Lily wouldn’t give it up for anything. She loved it, carrying a new life inside of her, creating another human being - from the purest form of love that Lily shared with James.

She rubbed her hand down her swollen belly, imagining the baby that would soon be in her arms.  Wondering what it would feel like to see its red face, to feel their skin against hers. “I’m so ready for you sweetheart,” she whispered, hoping her baby would hear her. 

“Lil?” James’ voice came through the door - only slightly apprehensive. “I don’t want to rush you, but I am getting very hungry.”

“Almost finished!” Lily yelled back, snapping her attention to the pale blue dress hanging against the door. She dropped her towel, kicking it toward the corner of the bathroom - and slipped on the silky slip, giggling at the way it clung to her bump. 

The blue dress was next, and Lily reached towards it, fondly remembering the last time she wore that dress - at Alice and Frank Longbottom’s wedding before her seventh year. She danced until her feet hurt; James twirling her, laughing with her, whispering in her ear. He had kissed her on the cheek at the end of the night, and Lily was certain that was the moment she had fallen in love with him. 

It was a simple dress, and Lily smiled widely when she realized it still fit her - even better than before. The strapless top exposed her pale shoulders, lightly dusted with freckles, and did wonders for her boobs - exposing her cleavage in a way that she knew would drive James wild.  It fell mid-thigh, the empire waistline swinging around her bump and - 

“Lily!” James shouted through the door again, interrupting the time she spent simply admiring herself. “Love I know you must be hungry too, are you almost done yet?” 

She rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear and opening the door wide. James was standing there, leaning suavely against the doorframe - dark hair mused perfectly, his strong jawline freshly shaved. The dark gray button-down shirt he wore perfectly accented his pecs, his sleeves already slightly rolled up.  He smirked at her, hazel eyes moving up and down behind his round specs, drinking her in. 

She was so getting laid. 

 “What? I’m ready, and starving, let's go.” 

He grinned, bearing his perfectly white teeth, “You’re cute.” James said softly, stepping forward to peck her cheek. “I’m very lucky I married you.” 

“I’m very lucky to have married you too.” She whispered back, grasping his hand. “Now c’mon, will you tell me where you are taking me yet?” 

“Not till we get there.” 

Lily could only roll her eyes then, smoothing her dress down her bump. “Well, I hope it has chocolate cake. Little Harry is very hungry for some chocolate cake.” 

“Well, I hope little Josephine, is equally as hungry.” James said knowingly, “Because you know, you are having a girl.” 

“Even if we are having a girl, we are not giving her my second name. We are in the 1980s now, dear, not the 1880s.” 

“Right, of course. Silly me. My parents are Euphemia and Fleamont. It’s easy to forget.” James laughed, grabbing Lily’s purse and guiding her out the front door. 

She was silent for a moment, a small contemplative smile stretched across her face. 

“What’s that look for?” James asked, turning to look at his wife after locking their door. 

“Oh, nothing really…” Lily began, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m just really happy to be doing this with you.” 

“Getting dinner?” 

“You know what I mean,” she said softly. 

“I do,” his hand reached for her bump, pressing a hard kiss into her cheek. “I’m very happy to be doing this with you too.” 

***

Start from the beginning here! 31 Days of Potters

#jily #harry potter #james potter #jily fic #jily fanfiction #hp marauders #james and lily #lily potter #marauders #hp fanfic

[febuary30thday]

𝒜𝓂𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒 (Info)

Fem! Hashira! Reader/Obsessed! Yandere! Hashiras! (Minus Tokito of course, he's platonically obsessed with you)

Fem! Hashira! Reader & Platonic! Obsessed! Ubuyashiki Family!

Fem! Hashira! Reader & Platonic! Obsessed! Kamaboko! Squad!

Fem! is based on my hyperfixation of Columbina

According to Childe's voicelines:

"The Fatui Harbingers are ranked by strength, and I have no idea why that girl is number three. I'd test my skills with every harbinger who ranks above me if I had the chance, but when it comes to her, something just doesn't feel right..."

According to Scaramouche's voicelines:

"Hm.. Let me ask.. What should you do if you were to encounter a 'damsel' who is oblivious and innocent and any given time? And unconcerned and unfeeling in any given situation?.. If it we me, I could atleast challenge her to a fight. But if it were you... With your conscience... I would stay away from her."

Fem! is always sleeping when she gets the chance, and if she's not sleeping, she sings.

Fem! and Shinobu are similar and they get along well, with their hate for demons.

Muichiro thinks of Fem! as the mother he lost, of course, he's very attached. He hates being separated from her, so he likes taking naps with her whenever she's not training.

Mitsuri thinks Fem! is very beautiful and admires her

Gyomei finds himself relaxed when he hears Fem! humming

Fem! uses the Breathing Style: Angel Breathing

I found this on the Kimetsu No Yaiba Fanon Wiki Here is the link: Angel Breathing | Kimetsu no Yaiba Fanon Wiki | Fandom

Angel Breathing is a highly nimble and protective breathing style that concentrates mainly on speed and concealment. Its origination is unknown, and is shrouded in mystery. Angel breathing is focused on the concept of religiousness and the human interpretation of the heavens, across varieties of different cultures and ideals. It was made to gain a reputation of being more powerful or more "righteous" than Wind Breathing. It is one of the first breathing styles not based on a natural element, and was well-known at first. But throughout time, this extensive reputation has faded. Angel Breathing has almost become extinct due to the lack of demon slayers actually using it.

First Form: Jonah's Ordeal

The user launches up to the sky and dashes towards their opponent, once they get close enough to the opponent they will perform a high-speed dash too fast to be seen by their opponent, while simultaneously slashing them everywhere, neutralizing their body and perhaps even causing them to faint.

• Second Form: Divine Archangel Slash

The user launches away from their opponent and strikes mid-air with their weapon in a quick fashion, sending shockwaves of light toward the opponent that may also blind anyone close by.

• Third Form: Heavenlight Citadel

The user dashes quickly around their opponent reflecting light from their sword to confuse their opponent before gathering force and momentum, finally dealing a massive slash to the opponent's neck.

• Fourth Form: Pillar Of Judgement

The user waves their sword around them, creating a huge glimmering angelic aura. The user then pierces all energy points of the opponent's body to stop them from using any attacks against you, completely disabling their abilities.

• Fifth Form: Ethereal Godlight, Raphael

The user performs a repetitive, force-gathering horizontal motion while dashing through the air several times to continuously enhance the flow of adrenaline, ultimately increasing the strength and durability of the user, and the blade. The user can then directly stab or slice the opponent with ease,

• Sixth Form: Lilyflower, Arcane Light-gazing

The user jumps from high ground onto the surface, performing multiple stabs to the opponent, and then finishes them off with several cuts across their body, this can leave a burning sensation and dramatically decrease the opponent's blood pressure.

• Seventh Form: Celestial Seraph Dawning

The user directly attacks their opponent with a downward spiral motion to ward away the opponent and deeply wound them, followed by a repeated fashion of light stabs causing great fatigue overall to the opponent.

• Eighth Form: Guardian Angel, Dusking Conquest

Same as the seventh form, but the user performs an uppercut rather than a downward spiral.

• Ninth Form: Destined Fallen Saint

The user gently lunges towards the opponent and waves their weapon with extreme dexterity before decapitating them painlessly.

• Tenth Form: Starlight Wisteria, Tragedy of Hope

The user flicks around the opponent mid-air and causes a series of large cuts to their body that take effect once the user has landed on the ground.

• Eleventh Form: Holy Caldera

The user runs right to the opponent and scars them greatly in multiple parts of their face, then the user vertically slashes their torso, leaving them mortally wounded.

• Twelfth Form: Empyrean Zephyr, Windflower Daisy

The user swings their sword in front of them, creating a vacuum of shockwave strikes all around them. These strikes are capable of paralyzing anyone who is hit.

• Thirteenth Form: Afterworld of The Blissful

The user bolts forward and releases several strikes of raw energy that hypnotizes everyone who gets hit, and places them in a very deep trance. Unaware that their body is being subjected to excessive amounts of harm.

• Fourteenth Form: Imperial Dawning of Retribution

The user roundly swings their weapon, gaining force and pressure with each rotation, before delivering many light shockwaves that hold great force and can move boulders.

• Fifteenth Form: Elysian Light-space

The user presents their weapon openly, and like beast breathing’s spatial awareness, the user can see and detect every movement. But unlike beast breathing, they can only detect movement in the sky.

• Final Form: Absolute Judgement, Hedge of Enlightenment

The user focuses their breathing, and starts dashing in a variety of directions, gaining momentum and strength. This increases and enhances their blood flow, dramatically making their strength, speed, agility, and durability skyrocket, therefore increasing their attack potency. However, this can only last for one large blow to the enemy. It can only hold for a minute because the user's body will not be accustomed to this type of strength. Dealing this blow can very well cause them extreme amounts of pain and harm to their body. This may even result in the death of the opponent.

#demon slayer #romance #kimetsu no yaiba #yandere #yandere x reader #hashira #yandere demon slayer #yandere demon x reader #tanjiro kamado #demon slayer zenitsu #yandere zenitsu #inosuke hashibira #zenitsu agatsuma #nezuko #kny tokitou #sanemi shinaguzawa #giyuu tomioka #kny #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #yandere tanjiro #yandere inosuke #yandere kanao #yandere nezuko #giyu x y/n #giyu x you #giyu x reader #kyojuro #shinobu

[sofoulandfairaday]

Since you did a James HC post, do you have any Lily headcanons?

Lilyyyy. Let's get right into it, sorry for the delay loves.

Kind. Incredibly kind. She would help a younger student in need, and always give friends and foes alike the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to see the good in people.

Part of her internal struggle, when she grew up, was grappling with the evils of the world. There are people who are truly evil, who want to see you hurt or dead just because of who you are. This painful realisation ultimately made her steely, stronger.

Short-tempered. She would get irritated, yell, even hex, very quickly, but it would also pass very quickly. She wasn't rancorous.

This is also why she didn't make peace with Severus even after he apologised. If she had just been angry about him calling her a Mudblood, she would have probably forgiven him. No, it was the realization, like we see in that scene outside the Fat Lady's portrait, that they had become fundamentally different people. They didn't share the same values, they didn't see the world in the same way.

And since she was a woman of principle, she couldn't accept being a Death Eater's “exception to the rule”.

She was popular but had few real friends. She didn't have the life-changing friendships James had (better yet, she did in Severus, but we all know how that went), so when they got together, his friends basically became her friends too.

She got on well with the Marauders, Remus most of all.

Still, I find it a bit sad (personally).

She probably had very cordial, even good relationships with the Gryffindor girls in her year, but it was the kind of friendship that dies down after school.

Good grades, but she also studied a lot. She wasn't naturally talented like Sirius or James, she earned every single success (and she had many, academically speaking).

Remus' study buddy in their last few years.

Very good at Potions, which was also her favourite subject. I think she would have grown up to work in the field if she had been given the chance.

Also a skilful duellist.

Idk if Hogwarts had a little student-run newspaper at the time, but if it did, Lily definitely wrote some very pro-Muggle articles in there. It got her more than some harassment from the Slytherins.

She grew up in a lower to middle-class background. She wasn't dirt poor like the Snapes were, but she wasn't by any means rich. She grew up with some of Petunia's hand-me-downs and listened to her parents' relief when they heard they wouldn't have to send her to university. This gave her an appreciation for money that James didn't have.

She wasn't superficial by any means, but as a teenage girl, it must have been wonderful to have a boy buy you gifts (even expensive ones for their age) and take you out on “fancy” dates.

Loved being a witch, used magic even for the most minuscule things, but was very proud of her Muggleborn heritage.

Had she lived, she would have loved Hermione. “Mudblood and proud of it!” is something I can see Lily saying.

Unlike Hermione, she wasn't a SJW-type. I don't see her as someone actively fighting for house-elf rights, for example. I can vividly picture a conversation between her and Hermione that goes a bit like some conversations between young feminist girls and their (still feminist) grandmothers when you try to explain intersectionality or something of the sort.

Bonded with Sirius over their shitty siblings.

James was her one and only boyfriend. She had crushes before, maybe even kissed a couple of guys, but she was one of those girls who just didn't have time for boys.

This being said, her crush on James Potter started way before seventh year. He was charming, popular, good with a snitch, funny. However, her dislike for him was absolutely genuine. She liked him but she would have never given him the time of day hadn't he changed.

She never hated Severus. Even years after they were no longer friends, the thought of him aroused more pain than anger. And I do think that, had she survived Voldemort's attack, she would have eventually forgiven him and patched things up with him (although it is my firm belief that things wouldn't have gone back to what they were).

Not even on her part. She wouldn't have fallen in love with him or anything, but he was one of the few things that was hers before it was her and James'. It was one of the things that connected her to her childhood, that sense of lost youth that we so often seek to find again when we grow up. No, had Lily lived, Severus wouldn't have seen her the way he did in canon. He was directly responsible for her death and spent his life crushed by that guilt. Whether you liked them romantically or platonically, being responsible for another person's murder shifts your whole world. If she had lived, he wouldn't have put her on a pedestal and she likely wouldn't have remained the most important person of his life even years after her death.

#asks #answered #hp headcanons #lily evans #james potter #severus snape #jily #marauders era

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

ok so i'm gonna try posting fragments of longer fics that probably won't see the light of day elsewhere.

this one is from a fic about cytherea's ascent to lyctorhood, from loveday's point of view.

this particular scene is titled "cristabel being a manipulative weirdo" in my drafts.

Loveday had yelled at God. It was an accident. Mostly.  

She had gone to talk to him about Cytherea. It was preposterous to her that there was nothing he could do. He was God, wasn’t he? He was supposed to be able to fix things. God should be able to keep one girl from dying.  She had tried to reason with him, and then she had begged, and then she had called him a series of increasingly blasphemous names, and then she had thrown one of his teacups at the wall. Now, she was curled up in a disused corner of Canaan House, like a child, trying not to hyperventilate too loudly. 

She knew she had made a mistake. She knew that she had been stupid and impulsive and maybe ruined Cytherea’s chances of staying here. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she got Cyth packed off back to the Seventh.

But goddamn, that teacup had made a good sound. 

She heard footsteps behind her. She dug her face further into her knees, which was useless, she was in full view. Just her fucking luck, she supposed, that she would be caught like this. She could tell who it was, too. Cristabel Oct’s weighted net clinked when she walked. 

“There you are,” said Cristabel. She passed by Loveday’s shoulder and then turned and dropped, cross legged, in front of her. Loveday’s forehead had been pressed to the tops of her knees, but she lifted her chin to look at her. Cristabel was smiling at her. Cristabel had a very sweet smile, actually. It was a smile that spoke of kindness and wisdom, with pleasant crinkles around her stormy eyes. Part of her dared to hope, for a moment, that she was actually about to be comforted. “I heard about what happened,” 

“From who?” It was a genuine question.

“I just thought we should talk about it.” Cristabel paused. “I’ve heard your adept call you ‘Lovie’. May I call you ‘Lovie’?”

"Nobody calls me that but Cyth."

Cristabel cocked her head, birdishly. "Understood."

Loveday had nothing to say in response to that. Instead, she said, "You talked to John, didn't you? He's the one who told you about it. Did he ask you to talk to me?"

"You've really been struggling to settle in here, haven't you? It's understandable, given the circumstances."

Loveday wanted very badly to believe this. She had seen Cyth talking with Augustine, the way they got along, the way he offered her an arm when she needed one and the endless tact with which he discussed her illness. Augustine had given Loveday hope, thin and rare as it may be. She had seen Cytherea laughing with Pyrrha, and hanging onto Mercymorn's shoulder, and playing chess with Anastasia. She had seen Casseopeia sit with her while she rested, chatting comfortably as old friends. 

"What do you know about my circumstances?"

Across from her, Cristabel's smile didn't waver. "I know that you love her. You're not the only person here who loves her, you know. She's among friends with us."

But she had also seen the way Cytherea looked after a day spent with these people, rumpled and wilted and barely conscious as soon as she was in the privacy of their room. Loveday usually had to help her into bed, in a way she never had back home. She sagged the second she crossed the threshold into privacy, aged thirty years, was usually unable to speak in sentences. "I know that some of you care about her," was all she said. 

She pulled her hand away. "Yes, it's like that. I just–"

Cristabel reached out and grabbed one of Loveday's hands. Cristabel's hand was warm and calloused and strong. "But it can't possibly compare to how you love her, can it? Cassy loves Mercymorn, but nobody loves her like I do. It's the same for you two, isn't it?"

"You just what?" Cristabel's voice was very gentle. When no more was forthcoming, she said, "You just hate to see her hurting, don't you?"

Loveday found herself nodding, silently. She was choked up, actually choked up. She hadn't cried in front of another person since she was a child.  

Cristabel sighed. It was a sigh which suggested that the heart of the issue had been found; the indulgent sigh of a parent who had discovered the cause of a tantrum, and understood. "I know it's difficult, Loveday, but you have to trust him."

Loveday's head snapped up. "What?"

"Teacher has big plans for her, for all of them, and it might not make sense right now, but one day all our suffering will mean something. I know that. I am asking you to trust him."

"What if it was Mercy?" asked Loveday. "Would you be saying this if Mercymorn was coughing up her own lungs? Would you watch Mercy die, would you watch her lose the ability to take care of herself, would you watch her body eat itself alive, and give me platitudes about faith? Would you sit back and watch her die and trust him?"

Loveday did not deck her, but it was a near thing. Instead she stood very abruptly, taking her sharp, conciliatory pleasure in Cristabel's flinch, and walked away.

Cristabel seemed to genuinely consider this. Eventually, she said, "My love for God and my love for Mercymorn are the same. There is no separating them. If it was his will that I care for her the way you care for Cytherea, then what else could I do? I know that he loves Mercy, and he loves me, and he wouldn't ask us to suffer unless it was really necessary. God demands things, Lovie. It's what he does. It will always be unpleasant, but we have to try."

#fic fragments #my fic #my post

[holystormfire]

How can I recognize manipulation in myself and others?

2 Corinthians 12:16-19

Some of you admit I was not a burden to you. But they still think I was sneaky and took advantage of you by trickery. But how? Did any of the men I sent to you take advantage of you? When I urged Titus to visit you and sent our other brother with him, did Titus take advantage of you? No, of course not . . . Everything we do, dear friends, is for your benefit.

Taking advantage of others for our own benefit is manipulation. A manipulator tries to gain things at others’ expense.

Proverbs 12:20

Deceit fills hearts that are plotting evil; joy fills hearts that are planning peace!

Jeremiah 9:5

They all fool and defraud each other; no one tells the truth. With practiced tongues they tell lies; they wear themselves out with all their sinning.

1 John 4:6

But we belong to God; that is why those who know God listen to us. If they do not belong to God, they do not listen to us. That is how we know if someone has the Spirit of truth or the spirit of deception.

Deceiving someone to get what we want or to make ourselves look good is manipulation. If we find ourselves twisting the truth to get what we want, we are probably being manipulative.

Amos 5:11

You trample the poor and steal what little they have through taxes and unfair rent. Therefore, you will never live in the beautiful stone houses you are building. You will never drink wine from the lush vineyards you are planting.

Amos 8:5-6

You can’t wait for the Sabbath day to be over and the religious festivals to end so you can get back to cheating the helpless. You measure out grain with dishonest measures and cheat the buyer with dishonest scales. And you mix the grain you sell with chaff swept from the floor. Then you enslave poor people for one piece of silver or a pair of sandals.

Cheating is often a form of manipulation. It is a plan to take something we don’t deserve because we feel entitled to it. It changes the landscape of fairness.

Mark 12:40

But they shamelessly cheat widows out of their property, and then, to cover up the kind of people they really are, they make long prayers in public. Because of this, their punishment will be the greater.

Hypocrisy —when what we say doesn’t match what we do – is a form of manipulation. We pretend to be a better person than we really are in order to get something we want. If we need to put on a façade for others, chances are we are being manipulative.

Nehemiah 6:9, 14, 19

They were just trying to intimidate us, imagining that they could break our resolve and stop the work. So I prayed for strength to continue the work . . . Remember, O my God, all the evil things that Tobiah and Sanballat have done. And remember Noadiah the prophet and all the prophets like her who have tried to intimidate me . . . They kept telling me what a wonderful man Tobiah was, and then they told him everything I said. And Tobiah sent many threatening letters to intimidate me.

Intimidation is a form of manipulation. When the manipulator can’t entice, he may try to intimidate or pressure you into submission.

Galatians 4:17

Those false teachers are so eager to win your favor, but their intentions are not good. They are trying to shut you off from me so that you will pay attention only to them.

Isolation is often a form of manipulation. We should cautious when someone tries to isolate us from Christian influence. Whether it is an intentional attempt to manipulate us or not, it can have a dangerous impact on our faith.

Judges 14:15-17

Samson’s wife came to him in tears and said, “You don’t love me; you hate me! You have given my people a riddle, but you haven’t told me the answer.” “I haven’t even given the answer to my father or mother,” he replied. “Why should I tell you?” So she cried whenever she was with him and kept it up for the rest of the celebration. At last, on the seventh day, he told her the answer because of her persistent nagging. Then she gave the answer to the young men.

Emotional pressure, nagging, and guilt are often used to manipulate. If we use these weapons, we are guilty of manipulation. Instead of these, self-control, encouragement, and forgiveness should be our tools for building relationships.

Romans 16:18

Such people are not serving Christ our Lord; they are serving their own personal interests. By smooth talk and glowing words they deceive innocent people.

Proverbs 7:21

So she seduced him with her pretty speech. With her flattery she enticed him.

Jude 1:16

These people are grumblers and complainers, doing whatever evil they feel like. They are loudmouthed braggarts, and they flatter others to get favors in return.

1 Thessalonians 2:5

Never once did we try to win you with flattery, as you very well know. And God is our witness that we were not just pretending to be your friends so you would give us money!

Psalm 12:2

Neighbors lie to each other, speaking with flattering lips and insincere hearts.

Flattery is often used to manipulate. It can be difficult to tell the difference between a sincere compliment and a false one. This is why we tend to be so vulnerable to flattery disguised as compliments.

Daniel 6:5-7

So they concluded, "Our only chance of finding grounds for accusing Daniel will be in connection with the rules of his religion." [6] So the administrators and high officers went to the king and said, "Long live King Darius! [7] We are all in agreement-we administrators, officials, high officers, advisers, and governors-that the king should make a law that will be strictly enforced. Give orders that for the next thirty days any person who prays to anyone, divine or human-except to you, Your Majesty-will be thrown into the den of lions.

Pride makes us particularly susceptible to flattery. King Darius was manipulated into endangering his most trusted advisor, Daniel, because of his pride.

1 Thessalonians 5:11

Proverbs 27:6

Proverbs 28:23

Love and truth form the difference between flattery and encouragement. Encouragement finds the good in others and inspires them to greater good. Flattery says what makes others happy with us—not necessarily what is true. It is better to inspire a friend with hard truths than leave them lost with gentle lies.

Proverbs 21:14

A secret gift calms anger; a bribe under the table pacifies fury.

Exodus 23:8

"Take no bribes, for a bribe makes you ignore something that you clearly see. A bribe makes even a righteous person twist the truth.

Proverbs 15:27

Greed brings grief to the whole family, but those who hate bribes will live.

Bribery is a dangerous form of manipulation, because it seems well-intentioned. Sometimes, to avoid an awkward rejection of a gift, we simply take it. But gifts and other benefits tap into our natural and good desire to respond in kind—which tilts our judgment at a deep yet subtle level.

Matthew 7:15

“Beware of false prophets who come disguised as harmless sheep but are really vicious wolves.

Beware of false prophets who come disguised as harmless sheep, but are really wolves that will tear you apart.

Jude 1:8

Yet these false teachers, who claim authority from their dreams, live immoral lives, defy authority, and scoff at the power of the glorious ones that pretends to be the Good News but is not the Good News at all. You are being fooled by those who twist and change the truth concerning Christ.

False prophets and false teachers are manipulators. They pretend to have good news for us, but they are really seeking to take from us.

#christian blog #jesus #bible reading #christian doctrine #bible scripture #glorytogod #biblical #bible #faith in jesus #bible study #read your bible #bible verse #bible devotions #follow jesus #jesussaves #jesus is coming #belief in jesus #jesus christ #gospel #faith in god #godly living #godly wisdom #kingdom of heaven #king james bible #christian faith #christian bible #christainity #christian living #bibleposting