#props to everyone who made it through that one to the rest of the series where i did rewrite it and improve the characterization and plot

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 6)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: mentions of covering up SA cases, lasting mental effects of dubcon under the synthetic hormones, morally gray characters, lots and lots of self-deprecation and low self-esteem, one mention of sexual dreams

____

Yoongi’s eyes are on the screen, but his mind is everywhere but the presentation. The meeting room is chattering away about profits and liabilities but all he can think about is you and Hoseok. The feeling of betrayal clawing its way into his chest, ripping out his heart and snuggling into his ribcage as a replacement. Betrayal for making him think you weren’t just as twisted inside as the rest of your kind: the ones with mansions, luxury cars, and chauffeurs waiting on their every move. The kind that Yoongi’s worked for already. He remembers how lucky he felt when he got this job, how ecstatic he was to finally work under someone who wasn’t insufferable. Sure, you were brash and cold, but that was nothing compared to his old boss—the one who’d make him commit a thousand crimes to cover up his own. He can’t remember how many books he’s cooked or funds he’s laundered at this point. The worst were the sexual assault claims, looking into every poor woman’s eyes and writing off a check as if it would make her hurt any less. All the nights he’d cry himself to sleep, feeling like a monster, but not knowing how to stop. His mother’s health has always been the first thing on his mind, and it goes from bad to worse too quick for him to quit with no backup. Hospital bills never pay themselves, do they? Especially not when he's the only breadwinner in the family.

He remembers the day you two first met, at a museum opening in Spain, where he was assisting his former employer in landing a partnership with your firm. He can’t say he liked you from the get-go. Didn’t like you at all, quite frankly. You were quite the expert at barking orders, making a scene at every little mistake the nervous waiters made. Everyone was on edge the minute you’d sit down, designer purses propped on the table that cost more than the last surgery his mother needed. But something changed as the week-long trip progressed, when he saw how quickly you shut his boss down the second he proposed a less-than-legal deal. It’s a deal he’d help get many others to sign off on before—with no one caring about the legality when millions were on the table—but you were passionate in your rejection, saying Shin Investments would never take part in anything illegal under your watch.

He still doesn’t know how he found the courage to approach you for a job at the end of the trip. He knew it was risky, that you could not only reject him but also tell his current boss that he’s looking elsewhere. But he was so fed up. Fed up with doing all the dirty work. Fed up with evading the law under the excuse of “doing his job.”  You gave him hope that there was a place where he didn’t have to do all that.

You had given him an amused brow raise in response, mentioning how you’d fired your last assistant, just prior to the trip, for smiling in a way that annoyed you. He knew you were challenging him, basically telling him he’s free to try, but he won’t last more than a week.

But, surprisingly to everyone, he does. It’s been two years since his first day, and it’s not an exaggeration to say his relationship with you back then is night and day from the one now. You had purposely put him through absolute hell during the first month, having him run around the office scrambling day after day. But even at your most difficult, it was always “run four blocks to my favorite salad bar and get me lunch in the next twenty minutes” and never “tell the new hires if they keep whining to HR about a compliment, they won’t ever work in this industry again” (the latter being the exact words his former boss once said to him). So, as challenging as you were, it never phased him, as you were much better than the alternative.

It was a little after that first month when you started warming up to him, having your first real conversation after you had one too many glasses of wine at an afterparty. It’s when you admitted that you were looking for any excuse to fire him.

“Because I can just do it. I can do it without any red tape, you know? Firing an assistant is that easy. My father wouldn’t even bat an eye. It's one of the few things I don't have to report to him.”

In a strange way, he understood. You were overcompensating. Even you, the CEO, felt powerless in her circumstances.

That was the first of many similar conversations over the years, each one giving him more insight to why you are the way you are. He’s managed to be the only person who can dull your sharp edges, and you’ve managed to do the same for him. And that’s why it feels like a knife is twisting into his gut at the thought of you using Hoseok for you own pleasure, taking advantage of him in a way Yoongi didn’t know you were capable of doing. No, it wasn’t illegal, but still morally wrong—and though he was understanding of your questionable ethics when you agreed to the Kang deal, knowing how you get when you’re backed into a corner, this was unacceptable. No one was backing you into any corner this time. You did this because you wanted to. It made him feel like he was right back at his old job.

And the worst part is the jealousy. His rational mind knows Hoseok is the victim, but his irrational mind—the one that’s in love with you—can’t stop feeling jealous. His thoughts are racing at a thousand miles per hour, conjuring up scenarios of what the two of you could have been doing. Was it like the dreams he’s had of you? Dreams of you flipped on your stomach under him, moaning his name…but with his name instead? Yoongi feels his skin crawl at the thought of you chanting Hoseok’s name in that way. He’s disgusted in himself for thinking like this, but it’s hard to push it all down when his emotions are threatening to spill out at any moment.

___

Jin steps out of the library for a broom when he lays his eyes on you, absolutely mutilating a poor dethawed chicken. It’s clear that you haven’t cooked a proper meal for years, or maybe even ever. The way you’re holding that knife is unintentionally the funniest thing he’s seen in a while, and that’s why he doesn’t even realize the slight laugh escaping his lips. You look up at the sound, meeting his eyes, which turn from joyful to terrified in a single second.

He almost flinches at the expectation of yelling alone, but that’s not what happens. Instead of your shouts filling the giant kitchen, it’s your laughter.

“I look like a mess, don’t I?”

He shakes his head no, to which you just laugh louder.

“It’s okay Jin, I know I suck at cooking. I’ve been putting this poor chicken through hell for the last forty-five minutes.”

He takes tentative steps forward, broom forgotten as he tries to think on his feet and be useful to you.

“I could…I could do it if I’m allowed. I’m a really good cook!”

You look down at the chicken, almost considering it with how outside of your skillset this all is. But you think better, as he’s already been cleaning the library for hours.

“It’s alright, I think I’ll just leave this chicken alone for tonight and order pizza.”

“Please, I insist! You let Jimin make breakfast!”

You don’t miss the way he pouts the last part out, eyes furrowed in a way you can’t help but find adorable.

“I wouldn’t have let him if he didn’t wake up before me. You guys are recovering patients, you should be resting, not cooking. You shouldn’t even be cleaning the library honestly.”

“But we want to help, we want to be use-“

Jin’s words are cut off by the sound of sniffling, heads turning to the source: a very scared Taehyung stands in the entryway of the kitchen, with Jimin by his side. Your heart drops at the sight of tears rolling down Taehyung’s cheeks, and so does Jin’s—apparent in how fast he makes his way over to the wolf.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?!” He takes his pup’s face into his warm hands, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

Taehyung doesn’t answer, instead saying “I’m so sorry” like it’s a mantra. Jimin doesn’t dare speak, eyes trained on the ground.

You’re unsure if you should step in, as it looks like they’re all having a moment, but it’s clear Taehyung isn’t going to respond to Jin.

“What happened?” You ask softly, knowing anything more in your tone will easily spook them further.

Taehyung’s too distraught to register you’re even addressing him, let alone answer back. It’s Jimin who nudges at the younger wolf’s hands, which you notice have been hid behind his back.

“Taehyung, sweetheart, what’s behind your back?” You pray the use of the nickname will calm him like it did with Hoseok, but he just keeps hyperventilating more.

“Jin, please get him some water” the oldest wolf is darting to the water pitcher before you even finish your sentence. Taehyung refuses to let his hands leave his back, leaving Jin with no choice but to bring the glass to his lips for him. It’s only after a few gulps does he regain some sort of composure. It’s then that he brings his hands to the front, bringing to light the ruined mess of pages in his hands.

Jimin crosses his fingers, praying to any and every god that the book isn’t of significance to you, but your reaction makes it clear to everyone how that is far from the case. You look devastated.

It’s your late grandmother’s favorite book: a collection of translated old German poems. You had stored it in the library—granted, in a clumsy pile with the rest of the things you’ve been too busy to properly put up—planning to get a glass case and eventually display it in the living room.

Your grandmother was your favorite person in the world, and that book was her favorite thing in the world. Some of your happiest childhood memories were created with her reading you those poems, at a time when every other adult in your life was too worried about the family business. When she passed last year, she left you a lot, but the diamonds and pearls were never as dear to your heart as that book. And there it was, in Taehyung’s hands, pages stained and soaking wet.

Jin and Jimin had warned Taehyung not to bring orange juice into the library, but he was too stubborn. He assured his hyungs that he was careful enough to drink it without spilling anything, too excited at the prospect of having full access to the fridge to think much about anything else.

And now the damage was done.

Frankly, you want to break down. But you don’t. You do what you’re used to from the office: take a deep breath and compose yourself before the slightest hint of a tear can creep up on you. Crying alone in your room? Perfectly acceptable. Crying in the sole presence of your assistant? Not the end of the world. Crying in front of literally anyone else? You’d rather burn your flesh off.

“It’s okay” the words are not convincing, but at least your voice isn’t shaking. You try to get away from the situation, feeling suffocated, but the worried hybrids are hot on your trail.

It’s at that moment the main door opens, and you can’t be more thankful at the timing. Yoongi’s here. The one person you can let all your emotions out to. Yoongi, with his comforting words and ginseng tea offerings—if anyone can calm you down right now, it’s him.

Except there’s no warmth in his eyes today, not even when he sees your crushed state or the book in Taehyung’s hands.

Speaking of Taehyung, the wolf is looking at him with pleading eyes. If you aren’t in a state to punish him, someone has to. He fucked up big and deserves whatever either of you dish out. He does hope, however, that his knuckles are spared this time.

“I-I ruined y/n’s book. ’M so s-sorry! Please punish me!”

“Taehyung, I said it’s oka—”

Yoongi cuts you off, tone ice cold.

“It’s not your fault. She should’ve kept it in a safer place.”

You stare at him, stunned.

 “What the fuck, Yoongi?”

 “Am I wrong?”

“That’s not the point. You know how much that book means to me…and that’s the first thing you say? You know that’s not what I need to hear right now.”

And that’s when Yoongi’s bottled up rage finally spill all over the floor, flooding everything in its path.

“Well life’s not always about what you want to hear, and if you were taught that as a child instead of being surrounded by servants and yes-men, then maybe this concept wouldn’t be too foreign for you.”

There’s a bite to his words, a bite with canines sharper than those of any wolf hybrid, and it completely destabilizes you. Hot tears start prickling your cheeks, fighting them off no longer a choice.

“What’s gotten into you? W-why are you acting this way?” Your voice is shaking now.

“Because I’m fucking tired of coddling you, of telling you that everything you do is okay even when it’s not. Maybe it’s on me, maybe if I called you out on your shit earlier then it would never get this bad.”

You’re not understanding what he’s trying to say, but you don’t know if that’s because he’s not making sense or how cloudy your brain is right now. Regardless, the venom with which he speaks is enough to shatter your already fragile mental state. The others shuffle down into the living room at the commotion, and suddenly everyone is seeing the one thing you never wanted them to: you bawling your eyes out.

None of the hybrids know what to do. Namjoon’s eyes are locked on Yoongi, ready to lunge if he poses any physical threat, but it’s clear in his body language that Yoongi doesn’t intend to hurt you in that way. Hurting you with words, however, is not something the lab trained Namjoon to protect you against.

It’s not long before you’re running to your room, locking the door, and letting the mascara fully trail down your face, all while gasping for air. Your lungs feel heavy, your eyes feel heavy, everything just feels so heavy. But nothing’s heavier than your heart.

___

Hours go by and the chicken on the counter is long abandoned—no one quite in the mood to eat. You haven’t left your room since the incident, and Yoongi cooped himself up in his room shortly after. The air feels as thick as smoke in a burning building, blocking the lungs of anyone who tries to breathe it in. It’s Taehyung who’s squirming the most, mentally degrading himself for causing all of this in the first place.

I should have listened. Jin and Jimin warned me, but I’m just too stupid to listen. It’s always me that messes up. I’m always the problem of the pack. Maybe if I beg, she’ll only kick me out and let everyone else stay.

A lesser Alpha might have scolded him at the moment, but Namjoon understands how much Taehyung is punishing himself already. He’s all too familiar with how married his pup is to his self-deprecating ways, no matter how much anyone assures him that he’s enough. The lab was always the most strict when it came to the youngest caretaker hybrid, his naturally clumsy nature being the perfect target for their cruelty and leaving him with little to no confidence in anything anymore. So all Namjoon does is take the boy’s hand into his, giving it a squeeze that translates to “I’ve got you,” and wiping away his tears as they rapidly fall. Jin’s got him situated in his lap, hands gently stroking his sides in a way that’s always soothed Taehyung.

“You’ll listen to Jimin and I next time, won’t you pup?” Jin’s voice isn’t all that scolding either, just firm enough to make sure Taehyung learns some sort of lesson from this…for whatever adoption center they’re shipped off to soon.

Taehyung lifts his head up from the oldest’s shoulder, frantically nodding yes.

There’s a knock on the door that makes every hybrid jump, Yoongi’s voice asking to be let in.

“Come in.” Jimin decides too quickly for anyone else to protest.

He awkwardly hovers beside the door, not bothering to close it as he steps in. It’s not long before Yoongi’s eyes zone in on the one he’s here for: Hoseok.

It’s a selfish thing to do, as Hoseok looks like he’d rather be tied to a train track than look into Yoongi’s eyes, but he needs this. He needs to look at the hybrid, the victim, to remind himself not to falter no matter how many tears you shed—because, yes, even now there’s a part of him that wants to hold and comfort you. Yoongi’s always loved sparsely, but hard, and turning it off overnight isn’t something he can do. So, there he is, actively draining out as much as he can by looking at the victim of your actions.

He’s about to apologize for snapping at the wolf yesterday, when another figure peaks into the ajar door. You inch your way closer, not aware of Yoongi’s presence until you’re right at the entrance. Your eyes are puffy and stained black from makeup, but you clutch the wound care kits close to you and brush past him nonetheless. No matter how much you want to lock yourself in your room for eternity, you have a responsibility towards these hybrids and their recovery. It’s clear, as you make your way to the couch, that you’re tired and embarrassed. No one comments on it, though.

“I need to do their wound care.”

And yet again, he seems ready to pick a fight, ignoring your unspoken plea and staying right in place—eyes narrowed into judgmental slits.

“I don’t know what I did that pissed you off so much, but I’m fucking sorry, okay? I can’t deal with this right now, please leave.” Your voice is meek, absolutely no fight left in you. Just desperation to not be in Yoongi’s presence, afraid of what hurtful words will come out of his mouth next.

Yoongi lets out a dry laugh, putting everyone’s nerves on edge. “You don’t know what you did wrong?”

You shake your head earnestly, trying not to feel small when he uses that condescending tone.

“How can you even say that?! How can you pretend to play the victim when Hoseok is right here. I want to throw up just looking at you right now.”

Hoseok? Why would he bring up…

Suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

“Oh my god Yoongi…you assumed I…we…”

“I didn’t assume anything y/n. Hoseok told me directly, so lying isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

You turn your head at a rate that almost gives you whiplash, looking at the hybrid with big eyes. Hoseok doesn’t look at you—can’t look at you. The feeling of your gaze scorches his skin.

“Hobi…”

Hoseok doesn’t know how to breathe anymore, doesn’t know how to do much of anything other than let his own tears waterfall down, heart cringing at the disappointment in which you say his nickname. He knows it was wrong to lie, but he could never have guessed it would turn into something this serious. Did Yoongi like you? Is that why? Or did he have the same moral code thing you had—one that Hoseok couldn’t wrap his head around. The lab had made it very clear that using him for his purpose was no different than using a chair for its purpose—and no one here had a moral problem using chairs. It all hurt his head too much to think about. But regardless, thinking was pointless, because you weren’t even using him. He couldn’t even do that for you, and now his lie is the reason you’re hurting.

Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok. Stupid Hoseok. Dumb Hoseok.

“I’m so sorry!” The words are broken and muffled through tears, “Y/n didn’t lie…it-it was me…I didn’t want everyone to know I was b-broken.”

The room goes still, the last sentence lingering in the air.

I didn’t want everyone to know I was broken.

Your eyes soften.

“You’re not broken Hoseok”

“You don’t have to say that. I know I am. That day…you pulled back because you could tell I didn’t want it…you shouldn’t have been able to tell that…no…I shouldn’t have not wanted it…that’s why I’m broken.”

Jimin is quick to embrace his hyung, shielding his wrecked state from view, although too late. The hybrids are at a loss for words, with Namjoon being hit the hardest. Hoseok lying meant he didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell the pack the truth—to tell his Alpha the truth. And that’s a failure Namjoon will have to carry on his shoulders for a long time. But now’s not the time for a self-evaluation, now he needs to make sure Hoseok feels his touch on his back. The rest get their hands in wherever they can, gentle pats and caresses to lessen his distress.

You don’t know what else to do to comfort him, to make him believe your words. And frankly, you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to comfort anyone right now. For a moment you can’t help but envy Hoseok, seeing the way his packmates hold him so dearly when he’s crying. You wonder how it must feel to be loved by so many people. It’s not something you can see ever happening for yourself.

Yoongi's not faring well either.

There’s not a word strong enough to describe what he's feeling right now: a cocktail of guilt and absolute dread, swirling in the glass that is his body. Every spiteful word he’s said rings in his ear. How mean he was, how cruel he was. How easily he dismissed your grandmother’s parting gift to you. The worst thing? He made you cry. He’s always promised himself that he would be by your side when the world made you break down, but now it was him causing those mascara stains. And in front of a fucking audience—the thing you hate the most.

“Y/n I—” he doesn’t even know what to say.

No one does, honestly. No one has the heart to blame Hoseok for lying—not when he’s huddled up crying and labelling himself broken. You can’t exactly blame Yoongi for believing him either, because who wouldn’t do the same?

But, regardless of the context, is that how he thought of you? Has he always been by your side with this contempt, thinking of you as a spoiled brat he’s obligated to follow around? That you’d use anyone to get what you want? You would understand if this was back when he was a month into the job…but now, when it’s been two years and you’ve opened up so much of yourself to him…he still held those views? Were they always buried down, hiding until he couldn’t keep them hidden any longer?

Has he stuck by your side all this time feeling so disgusted by you?

Can I even blame him? I am a bitch, after all.

It’s Jimin that pulls you out of your head, bringing a glass of water to your lips as you so badly need it right now. “We’ll do wound care on ourselves tonight, please get some rest.”

___

Yoongi’s two steps behind you, holding his breath as the two of you leave the hybrid room. He doesn’t stop at his bedroom, though, instead following you straight into yours.

“I’ve been a dick.”

You slump onto your bed, dejected, “Maybe I deserved it.”

That’s the last thing he wants to hear. Never in his life did Yoongi think he would be jealous of his coworkers, the ones you’d yell at and kick out of your office the second they made a mistake—but right now, that’s precisely what he wishes you would do. Because the yelling he can withstand, but this is too much for his heart.

“You didn’t deserv—”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend that you didn’t mean any of it. I know I’ve never been the easiest person to deal with. You don’t have to like me to do your job well…if you still want to even work for me…”

“I should be the one begging to keep my job. I only said what I said out of spite, y/n, I wanted to hurt you because I just felt so angry. Fuck, the thing I said about your grandmother’s book too, I feel like shit.”

You wince at the mention of the poems.

“Seeing her book in his hands…I wanted to yell at him so bad Yoongi...but he looked so terrified…and Hoseok looked so terrified too …so who am I even allowed to be angry at?”

Yoongi doesn’t know how to respond, so he instead grabs a makeup wipe from the vanity. He’s gentle in the way he glides it across your skin, extra care around each eye. You let it happen, like a limp doll in his grasp, head hurting too much to be anything else.

“Get some sleep now.”

“How can I be sure you don’t hate me? That you don’t hate working for me?”

“Because”

I’m actually in love with you.

“You’re more than my boss. You’re my best friend y/n.”

____

A/N: I know I'm the writer but I'm waiting for them to be a fluffy big happy family as much as the next person. Baby steps though. Please let me know your thoughts! They are always appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 1

I had this little idea. The meeting came to me in a dream, no word of lie. Classic little trope, I know. I'm hoping to work in some smuttier things down the line. Hope I do it justice and you like it 💕 Erring on the side of caution; probably not suitable for Ramadan

You'll be able to read the rest here eventually: Ding

~3.8k words

As she did the wind took her door not much, nor hard but enough to bump into the car beside her.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes, still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It was cold and rainy all day long. It made her want to curl up in a ball with a good book on her sofa and not get up for hours and hours. The kind of day where she wished she wasn’t an adult, and she was back home. Back when her dad would make her hot chocolate, they would watch old movies, and he would give insider information into all the hubbub that happened behind the scenes. How the actors interacted and when the props failed or something of that nature.

Her father was a great film critic. But he always said “even ‘bad’ movies have good.” She had seen tons of movies. Summers during school were filled with at least one movie a night. Sick days were made for marathoning series. When they weren’t watching movies, he was taking her to baseball games, teaching her how to cook—“the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, honey”—and making sure that she knew how to be spoiled by any man that deigned to enter her life. She was handy around the house and fiercely independent.

As much as she enjoyed cooking with her dad, baking was her real passion. She loved the science of baking: how butter affected cookies, temperature changed the consistency of cakes, and nothing made her happier than playing with baking powder and baking soda to change the rise of her pastries.

It led her to this spot. This little bakery. School for business and plenty of classes on cooking and baking. At the age of twenty-seven she was extremely lucky; for the last three years her business had been so successful. It was in local and state magazines about a hot spot for tourists and one of those shops that everyone just loved.

She wished her dad could see it but knew he would be proud of her regardless.

A strong gust of wind pulled her from her thoughts. There was a late-night closing report she needed to go over—a favor to her regular closer who needed to get home to her little baby. But really, A Pinch of Sprinkles was her baby and she loved to be in the little shop that smelled like the cupcakes she loved making.

She zipped her coat up, pulling her hood over her hair. It was hardly any further than a 40-yard dash to her little bakery door but in a steady rain like this, she thought not even her rubber boots would be enough to keep her dry for the short little sprint she would have in just a moment. She thought of her dad again, who would have run around to her door and held an umbrella over her head before getting out in the rain. With a deep, sad sigh, she braced herself, opened her door and reached for her umbrella and purse on the passenger seat.

As she did the wind took her door. It wasn't much, nor hard to create real havoc, but enough to bump into the car beside her. “Fuck,” she hissed getting out quickly, her belongings be damned her hair getting wet and stringy almost immediately. She slammed her door shut, turned to the car beside her, and made eye contact with the person in the driver’s seat. Her lips parted slightly, heart hammering in her chest. There was hardly anything more than a bit of a ding on the the stranger's car but the unmoving gaze that returned from the front seat intimidated her immensely.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It felt like thunder was inside her chest, the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. An intimidating man, his hair not quite buzzed off but not quite much more than an inch or two long, deep, soulful eyes. His gaze didn’t drop from hers. It was like he was having a staring contest.

“I... am... so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified. It wasn’t that she was terrified of men. But in a dark parking lot and someone who looked so intimidating... well it was a modern-day-female nightmare.

The man smiled and suddenly he was no longer intimidating. Dare she say, he was even cute. The left half of his mouth quirked up and he glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel, tapped a quick rhythm on it, and turned back to her. “S’okay,” he shrugged, rolling the window back up. He stepped out into the rain in the same motion, rain not bothering him as it began to soak his hair and slid down his face. The man was gorgeous. A walking ad for raincoats and umbrellas. He meandered over to where she stood. Her heart still pounded now for an entirely new reason. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reached for the blemish on his car. “See, jus’ a ding,” he rubbed his fingers over the little indent a few times before turning back to meet her gaze again.

His grin was adorable.

The air came out of her in a whoosh loud enough to rival the one that took her door right into his car. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” she promised.

He chuckled. “S’fine, love,” he assured her. “S’jus’ a ding,” he repeated with a shrug.

By now she was drenched. It wasn’t a downpouring, but the steadiness of the raindrops won out. Without any regard to how she was stood still between the two cars—soaking the inside of her seat as well—he leaned in, grabbed her purse, umbrella and closed the door behind him. Honestly, it didn’t even cross her mind that he was going to rob her. That alone should have raised about ten alarm bells in her head. Instead, for whatever reason, she felt safe.

He handed her own bag to her. It felt so strange. Like she didn’t know what to do with it. He paid no mind to her uneasiness. Without any acknowledgment of their weird meeting and their even weirder interaction thus far, he opened the umbrella and held it over the pair of them to keep a little dryer—even though they were both already soaked.

“Let’s go,” he put a hand on her lower back to usher her out from between the cars.

Reality and her brain finally restarted in her head. “Excuse me? Go where?”

He shrugged. “Well... y’did ding m’car. Assumed y’could at least come with me.”

“Come with you where?” She repeated incredulously.

“Oh right, sorry. D’you have plans? A date?”

“Well...no...”

“Great,” he tiled his head in gesture toward their current path, the opposite direction of her bakery.

“Can you tell me where it is you want me to go?” But she was already following the gentle touch on her back to keep her moving in his current direction. She should have felt unsafe. This was unnatural. How could she not be scared?

He pointed at the municipal building—it was old and pretty. Pretty typical for a little tourist area. Lights caught the raindrops that fell to the ground that hung from ancient looking black iron sconces. Steps up to the main doors were cobblestone and probably brand new as they were replaced over the years. Back in the day it was probably home to many rousing mini-city debates. It was hard to imagine back then it would ever become the bustling little tourist center it was at present. “Y’ever been in?” He asked.

She shook her head. It was like he was a truth serum wrapped in a hot body. There was nothing to explain her reasoning to answering him. “Not since I was little. My dad took me to a magic show here.”

“Well, s’not quite as magical, but s’a fight tonight.”

“A fight?”

“Boxing.”

“Boxing?” She repeated.

“M’not trying t’be rude, are y’hard of hearing?”

“What? No,” she shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “Why?”

“Y’keep repeating everything I say,” his ever-present half-smile was mocking her.

She scowled at him, shook her head again, and halted them in the middle of the rainy sidewalk. “Please stop walking. I’m so confused,” she put her hands on her temples. Why was she even following him? She didn’t need to be with him right now. She could have walked the other direction just as easily and told him to take a hike.

“Mmm... I’d rather not, I’ve got t’get ready,” he explained inching further along the path with the umbrella in his hand still. “M’on the first card.”

“Let’s try this again,” she stood her ground. Deciding now that if he were a serial killer, it would be too late but at least she could have the satisfaction of trying. “I don’t know your name and contrary to my current actions I'm actually very wary of strangers. But I own the bakery right over there in the main square. I was going to run the closing report. I’ll wait there until your fight is over,” she suggested--where she at least had security cameras set up and would have proof of a stranger murdering her with a baking sheet. “You can come get my insurance info then,” she spun quickly away from him, and started back toward the direction of the bakery; he could keep the umbrella.

“Your bakery?” He asked, following her a few paces back.

“Yes. A Pinch of Sprinkles. It’s right over there,” she gestured to the main bustling little square.

“You own the bakery: A Pinch of Sprinkles?”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

He snorted at her and smirked once more. “Alright,” he sighed holding his hands up in surrender. “M’Harry. M’in a boxing match tonight. M’normally in there by now getting ready. But this really pretty girl dinged m’car,” his smile was so boyish for someone who scared the lights out of her only minutes before. “And y’did kind of promise t’come with me as payment,” he looked at her knowingly.

“I did not promise that,” her tone was defensive. “I said I would pay for the dent to be fixed.”

“I know y’did. S’very nice of you. S’not what I want. This is how I want you t’pay me.”

“By coming to watch your fight?”

He nodded eagerly. But she saw his eyes scanning her. He was still holding her umbrella while she continued to get soaked. Her dad would have a conniption at the sight of a stranger holding her umbrella and not keeping her dry. But it didn’t bother her. If anything, she kind of liked it if only because it gave her a chance to look at how adorable he was holding her flowery umbrella when she knew the embodiment of intimidation was going to punch someone at three-minute intervals.

Harry stepped closer, bringing her back under the umbrella. “Look... If y’really need t’go to your bakery, then no, of course m’not going t’stop you. But if it can wait, then s’how y’can repay me,” he shrugged. They were huddled close together under the umbrella. Her hair was a wet stringy mess. She knew very little about boxing. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky and The Eye of the Tiger. That was about the extent of her knowledge. Boxing wasn’t one of the major sports her dad imparted his wisdom about to her.

“You want me to go to your fight as payment for your car dent?”

“Are y’going t’jus’ keep saying the same thing as me but as a question all night?” She knew she was repeating herself again. She pursed her lips to refrain from asking another question. “C’mon, Cupcake... m’really starting t’run late here,” he pointed to his wrist with an imaginary watch.

Cupcake.

What was she getting herself into?

She took a deep breath trying to calm the bit of nerves. “I’m not really a go with the flow kind of girl. I have a lot of questions.”

He smiled sweetly. Nodded like he expected such an answer, like he knew her already. “M’sure you do,” he agreed. “But... I really need t’go in. Like right now. Louis is going t’kill me if I don’t appear in front of him four minutes ago. When the fight’s over, I’ll walk y’to A Pinch of Sprinkles. We’ll run y’closing report and I��ll answer every question y’have.”

It took every bit of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from repeating him again. We. “There’s also the whole... I don’t know you at all, thing,” she reminded him stepping out from the umbrella again. “Seems like a bad idea on my part.”

It was almost moot though. Even she heard the way her voice sounded like she was caving as she said it. He stepped closer again. “You’re right. S’good instincts that I admire y’have,” he held his phone out to her, the screen catching a few drops of rain. “S’my niece,” he told her of the baby on the lit screen. She was only a few months old based on the picture. “She’s got me wrapped around m’finger and she’s barely old enough t’even see me and know m’holding her. Least that’s what m’sister Gemma says,” he shrugged. The adoration, the love in his voice made her stomach flip. It was unbelievably adorable this scary man was in love with a little baby. His voice was so sweet, it made her feel at ease. “I grew up with Mum and Gemma,” he looked her squarely in the eye. “I know m’about t’go in there and punch another grown man, but m’not dangerous. Especially not towards a girl who parked in a dark parking lot who owns a bakery with a sprinkles pun," her heart softened. “I know y’have questions, Cupcake. But I really need t’go in there,” he was growing the slightest bit impatient. “Louis is gonna send Niall out looking for me and then m’screwed. I need y’decision either way.”

It was perhaps her dumbest idea ever. Even stupider than when she tried to make peanut butter cookies without peanut butter to make them allergy friendly. “Are you going to win?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Think so. Especially if you’re there as m’good luck charm," he winked.

When she thought about this in the future or when she ended up on a true crime TV episode, it would be this moment that thousands and millions of people would say "how could she be so stupid?"

But she started for the building ahead of him, anyway. He fell into step beside her holding the umbrella over her again. “Probably not a good idea to put stock into me when I just dented your car.”

“S’jus’ a ding, Cupcake,” he smiled. “Something t’remember y’by.”

She couldn’t believe how quick and flirtatious he was. He knew all the right things to say and wasn’t even the least bit nervous it seemed. When he went into the ring or something she would have to Google his name and see if she accidentally made a fool of herself talking to a professional boxer. “You’re something else.”

They entered the building from a back door guarded by a man who gave Harry a nod as he ushered the sweet girl inside. “You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” A blonde man with an Irish accent asked, running his hand through his hair right as the guard at the door pulled the door shut from the outside. “I was just about to go see what happened this time,” he started back down the hall, deeper into the building. “He’s losing his mind,” he warned.

Harry shrugged. “Met a girl,” he smiled back at her. “She owns the bakery. She’s gonna be my good luck charm”

“Oh, you’re the reason for my freshman fifteen,” the blond man wiggled his eyebrows at her as he turned to her as well.

“Cupcake, this is Niall, he’ll keep an eye on you,” he assured her.

“Cupcake, hmm?” Niall chuckled. “Louis’ gonna kill you,” he skipped ahead of Harry. “Found him!”

“Harold you better have been held at gunpoint!” The shout was nearly hysterical as they approached the open room.

“He was just talking to Cupcake,” Niall was nearly giggling. Louis, she presumed, wasn’t the least bit amused. His face was hard. His blue eyes cold, his jaw as sharp as his words.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he ordered.

Harry rolled his eyes and winked in her direction. “Hold this for me?” He asked, handing her his phone. The picture of the little babe illuminated the screen and a message from Mum was previewed on the screen so she couldn’t help but read, “Good luck honey bunny!” With about ten four-leaf clover emojis and just as many hearts. It warmed her heart so much to see the message on this scary man’s phone. She had doubts now that he was going to murder her later. A murderer wouldn’t have a supportive mom like that, right? Or a picture of their niece as their phone background? “See y’in a bit, Cupcake,” he gave her arm a squeeze and leaned her umbrella beside the door leading into the next room.

Niall was sipping a beer from a clear cup. “Y’ready, Cupcake?”

She snorted, sticking his phone into her purse alongside hers and nodded. “Sure. M’gonna have a lot of questions.”

He laughed. “Well, I have a lot of questions for you,” he promised pushing a set of double doors and into a thrumming, crowded arena.

It was definitely not a magic show.

Blinking, Niall put a gentle hand on her back and leaned toward her ear so she could hear better. “How do you know Harry?”

“I don’t,” she shouted back to be heard over the crowd. There were people getting things set up, announcements being made, and the like. There were people cheering and she couldn’t believe how big the boxing ring looked. The only boxing ring she had ever seen was the one in Rocky. Moreover, the only thing she knew about that ring was that the audience in the movie was given a free chicken dinner for showing up to the arena and they dimmed the lights, so it looked like more people were there. “My car door hit his car.”

“You hit Clay?”

“Who’s Clay?”

“His car!”

“He named his car, Clay?”

“Like Cassius Clay?”

Again, she didn’t know much about boxing, but she realized immediately that Harry named his car after the greatest heavyweight boxer ever. Oh, Lord. What did you get yourself into? She thought to herself. “Er… yeah… I guess so.”

“And he didn’t...” Niall drifted off curiously. “Hmm,” it seemed he surmised something in his head but didn’t let her in on the secret. He gestured to a chair that was front and center of the corner of the ring for her to sit. He took the seat beside her and leaned close as she spoke to him again. “How do you know Harry?”

“We’ve been best friends since Uni,” he shrugged. “Been icing his bruises for years.”

She nodded. “I see. Are you recently graduated? You said freshmen fifteen?”

Niall laughed. It was contagious. Made her feel safe still. The whole last ten minutes were surreal. She really followed a stranger to a boxing match. She was sitting with his best friend asking questions about someone she hardly knew. “Just a joke, Cupcake. You are single handedly responsible for my recent weight gain since you moved into town. Well, you and that Irish soda bread you made last March. It tasted like home.”

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I was so nervous about it!”

Talking about sweet treats and breads and cupcakes was more her speed. “Oh, it was perfect, Cupcake. Rivaled my nan’s.”

Well, maybe Harry wasn’t so scary.

At least his friends were nice. Although... “Louis hates me, doesn’t he?” The thought of someone hating her, even though she didn't even know him made her sad.

Niall rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just so sick of Harry being late. Thinks because he’s undefeated on this circuit he can do whatever he wants.”

“Undefeated?” She was grateful Harry wasn’t there to hear her question repeating the same thing Niall said again.

“Not much of a boxer are you, Cupcake?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

He chuckled. “Harry’s very good. You’ll see.” Clearly. What did he need a good luck charm if he was already undefeated. She really needed to research him.

As if he heard his own name, he dropped into the seat across from her. It would be inside the ring between rounds but for now it allowed him to gaze at the pretty girl he met moments before. “Hi Cupcake,” his smile was sugary—and she knew sugar.

“Hi,” she murmured, willing her eyes to stay focused on his face and not his bare torso. A litany of tattoos painted his skin and a pair of vines dipped into the band of the shorts he wore. Everything was black. His shorts, his tattoos, his shoes, and his gloves. She could see tape going up half the length of his forearm keeping the bottom of his gloves in place.

“That’s a record for you getting ready. Must be your good luck charm,” Niall nudged her with his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you those soda breads were delicious?”

Harry kept his eyes on her and nodded. “Y’did.”

“Told you,” Niall assured her.

“Wouldn’t shut up ‘bout them,” Harry was unmoving, his body, his gaze. His phone was in her purse. He was looking at her like she was pretty, and she knew her makeup and hair was ruined by the rain. “M’a bigger fan of those raspberry filled cupcakes of yours,” he told her. “S’like heaven in a cupcake.”

“Harry, I swear to God!” Louis shouted.

Harry smiled ruefully, winked at her again and finally moved, heading back toward the sound of Louis’ voice. “Niall, don’t let her leave, yeah?”

Niall saluted him and she watched him leave again. She cleared her throat, turning in her seat toward the door, she exited to get to her ring-side seat. “Good luck, Harry,” she called, unsure if he would hear her over the building crowd.

Harry turned back right as he got to the door and winked again. “Thanks Cupcake,” he called back loud enough for everyone to hear that he was talking to her. Niall chuckled, shook his head, and put a friendly arm across the back of her chair.

He was kind enough to lean to her ear so that others wouldn’t hear the next thing he said because it made her blush and nearly melt to the floor right in front of Harry’s best friend and the very ring, he would be punching another grown man in just a few minutes. “Hope you like your boyfriends like your frosting, Cupcake. Because that man is already whipped for you.”

--

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[kentosovertime]

𝕖𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕤𝕥; (n.) someone who only pretends to smile

𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤… when geto and gojo grow apart, resulting in their break up, gojo finds friendship and belonging with you and when geto returns he decides he wants you for himself 𝕚𝕟𝕗𝕠… 2.7k wc, college!au series, satosugu, geto x gojo x afab!reader, explicit content and language, includes themes of manipulation, jealousy, angst, spiteful behavior, etc. toxic friendships, emotionally constipated men, mentions of alcohol, exhibitionism, voyeurism, heavy petting 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣… reblogs and likes are appreciated 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥… send me an ask (link) if you want to be tagged

𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕥𝕒𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 | 𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕓𝕠𝕩

Satoru waits until he hears the refrigerator close in the kitchen and footsteps approach the front door of the apartment before he leaves his room to get ready for class. He frowns to himself, sighing heavily as he goes to make a quick breakfast and pack his bag. 

He shakes his protein in his shaker bottle and scrolls mindlessly through his notifications to distract his self loathing thoughts. There are plenty of notifications for matches on his phone… Maybe he could find someone new to take some of his restlessness out on?

Satoru is in the middle of messaging a girl back with a small, satisfied smirk when keys jingle in the door and Geto comes back in, stopping short when he takes in the app on Satoru’s screen. 

“Forgot my laptop…” He mutters and disappears into the room they used to share, coming out a moment later with it propped in his arms. 

Satoru bites the inside of his cheek, looking down at his phone without a response. Sometimes he really despises how much he still cares about Geto. When their relationship had blown up in their faces, he hadn’t pressed him to move out. It was hard enough to find an apartment in a college town and it was quite another thing to afford one alone.  

After he had stormed out that night, he came back when he knew Geto would be at work, emptying his belongings from their room and moving into the sparse guest room that used to be his before they finally decided to give into the tension between them. He sighs at the memory, something deep and tucked away in his heart aching for something that could no longer be. He swallows around the lump in his throat, remembering how happy he was that Geto was away so he could cry in peace, not wanting anyone to see him like that, so weak. 

He still cared for Geto and the last thing he wanted was for him to end up on the streets or living in his car. Satoru would have been fine, he has more than enough money to spare, but he’s not a total asshole. 

In his own defense, when he had decided that he wouldn’t press the issue, Geto was barely around anyway. There had been weeks at a time that he’d go before seeing him between classes, his job and internship, and Satoru’s conflicting schedule. But now, with the internship done, his classes and work had returned to normal… but they hadn’t. 

He was still having trouble adjusting, even after a couple weeks passing to get used to a different routine.. 

“Hey…” Geto clears his throat, shifting on his feet. “I meant to ask before leaving, but you weren’t up yet. Is everyone still meeting up for coffee?” 

“Yeah, we’ll be there starting at 2.” Ah, the other compromise that Satoru had silently made. Having the same friend group since before they started dating complicated things on top of their living arrangement. It wasn’t fair to make them side one way or the other and deep down, Satoru was afraid that the rest of the group only tolerated him and would pick Geto when it came down to it… Well everyone except for (y/n). “Just stop by whenever you get out of class.” 

“I should be there around 2:30…” Despite his nervous shifting, a small smile graces his lips and Satoru’s heart skips a beat, missing seeing happiness on his face. “I’m excited to see everyone again after so long.” 

“Shoko hasn’t shut up about it.” Satoru snorts, and takes a swig of his shake. “And (y/n) is excited to finally meet you. Try not to be a total offstandish ass to her.” 

“No promises, Gojo.” Geto finds his smirk growing as he playfully rolls his eyes, knowing that Satoru is fucking with him. He was always a gentleman to women, even if he wasn’t as personable as the man in front of him. Geto was shocked that the group still acknowledged he existed, thinking that Satoru would have been the obvious choice after their split. “I’ll see you later.”

He huffs out in acknowledgement, sagging when the front door finally closes behind Geto. He didn’t mind making room for Geto in his life again for Shoko, Mei Mei, or Nanamin, but having to share you?

His gut tightens in protective possessiveness. You were everything to him; his best friend. The title used to belong to Geto, but that’s no longer the case for obvious reasons. And it can’t belong to Shoko with how she ends up moderating the two men.

You had pulled him through his hardest days, seen him through the dark months when he was piecing himself back together, making bad decisions to compensate for the hole that was punched through his heart. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. 

You had barreled your way into his life only a few days after the breakup, approaching him in one of his classes to hand him a summary of the notes from the class he missed. When he had asked you why you’d gone out of your way so selflessly, you simply said that you noticed he didn’t seem himself and you thought he could use a friend. 

He found that he loved that you were his, that you weren’t tainted by Geto and that he didn’t have to share you with him. 

When he makes it to the cafe later that afternoon, he makes sure to take the space next to you on the leather couch. Leaning into whatever you were animatedly explaining to Shoko. 

“I’m just saying that if we tie him up and throw him in the trunk, what will he do?” You reason, like what you’re saying is completely normal. “If he screams we can gag him.”

“I’m here for the vibe, but how about we just lie to him?” She snorts loudly and takes a puff off of her vape, blowing the smoke away from the group. 

“Who exactly are we talking about?” Satoru buts his way into the conversation, curious and ready to aid and abet at a moment's notice. 

“We’re planning something for Kento’s birthday in a few months.” You grin wildly, leaning closer to him so you can conspire with him, whispering as if Nanami’s scowling face will appear out of thin air. “It’s his 20th birthday! We have to party and force him to attend. And if we book him accommodations in a love hotel for shits and giggles, so be it. You can smell the man’s sexual frustration from a mile away.”

“I always loved charity work.” He snickers, all but offering his help with whatever you need. He stands and stretches his limber limbs, cracking his neck before he announces he’s going to use the restroom. Before he goes his gaze softens and he smiles at you. “Do you want me to grab you something on my way back? One of those cinnamon rolls you like?” 

“Yes, please~” The soft smile you shoot his way has his heart racing for some unknown reason.

By the time he comes back carrying your plate, someone else is sitting next to you. He stops in his tracks, deflating slightly when he sees Geto, making himself at home, leaning into your personal space with that sly, flirty smirk Satoru knows so well. And it feels like a stab through his heart when he sees you laughing at whatever he told you. 

Three things crash through Satoru at once as he starts to pale. First, he realizes, watching your smile light up your face and have it not directed at him, that he likes you. Second, the hot churning sensation in his stomach was jealousy, something he hasn’t experienced in years. Lastly, to his shock, the jealousy isn’t just directed at Geto, but at you.

You have his attention, his smile, even his touch as Satoru watches him lay his hand on your thigh, thumbing the surface of your skin under the hem of your shorts. 

Why hadn’t he asked you out before this? He asks himself as something punches him in the gut and hollows open his insides.

“‘Toru!” He blinks rapidly, clearing his mind with a shake of his head, as he sees you making aggressively cute grabby hands towards the plate he was holding with the cinnamon roll on it. An excited noise leaves your throat as you take it and bite a huge chunk out of it. “Thank you, bestie.” 

“No problem, you fucking gremlin.” He rubs your head affectionately, smirking as Geto’s eye twitches at the familiar touch. “You getting along with Mr. Tightass over here?” 

He kicks your leg, making you shuffle over and push Geto down the couch so he could settle on your other side, wanting to sit next to you more than before. 

“Of course she is,” Geto scoffs at him before leaning back against the arm of the couch with the sly smile returning. “I’m a pleasure to be around.” 

“He’s going to bring me over to that book store with the bar in it after this.” Satoru can see you teeming with excitement despite the shy look plastered on your face, complete with a light flush on your cheeks as you look back and meet Geto’s eyes. 

“Oh?” Satoru’s voice is falsely curious with just a hint of the teasing he normally levels at you, like he isn’t having the rug pulled out from under him. “Hot date?”

“N-No-” You stammer in embarrassment at the exact same Geto chuckles, pulling your attention back to him.

“Damn. I thought I was pretty obvious about it.” He grins, reaching out to gently thumb your cheek, sending your heart rate through the roof. “Sweetheart you already said yes, don’t break my heart.”

“I.. Y-you’re sure?” Satoru hates how his insides churn as he watches you fully face Geto, saying yes to the man less than fifteen minutes after meeting him. “I could be crazy, you know.”

“Oh I know you are if you’re friends with that-” He nods behind you with a knowing smirk, seeing Satoru’s murderous glare on him. Really could he be more obvious? “Good thing I don’t mind crazy, baby.”

“Wow. Shafted and ditched bestie.” Satoru whines and acts annoyed so you don’t see that you’re ripping his soul in half. “What about me?”

You playfully smack his arm with a little grin, like he’s just fucking with you. You think that he can be such a needy baby sometimes, but he just had such a big heart you couldn’t help but want to be his friend. 

“Don’t you have a million matches to respond to?” Geto hums like he isn’t letting you know that you have hundreds of other girls to compete with, all with the sharp edge of disapproval out of his own selfishness over Satoru. 

“Shit, yeah I forgot I need to go tell them to fuck off.” Satoru tries for a tone that’s silky sweat but it comes out just a bit too snippy. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, gremlin. You still have those notes for me from the class I missed?”

“Of course I do, you degenerate. No way you’d graduate in the Spring without them.” You tease, hiding a sad look that he’s already packing his bag up to head out. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Satoru wandered aimlessly for the evening, eventually too bored of the campus’s study rooms to stand it anymore. The sun was setting, casting golden yellow rays of light through the budding leaves as he walked across the campus quad, heading to his favorite hole bar in the wall where he could drink in peace without being bothered. 

He hadn’t been here since right after the breakup, so the staff looked confused to see him back, but promptly kept his drink full in his hands without having to ask. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have Geto try to talk to him about what happened, but they had to close eventually and he could tell they were itching for him to pack up so they could lock up.

He didn’t even want to wake up in the morning and have to hear the same exact story that Geto told him, but this time from your pretty pink lips while you smiled with that shy excitement that only came out when you liked someone. In all the time he’d known you, while you were a chaotic little shit, you didn’t have a malicious bone in your body, you just weren’t capable. 

He kicks a pebble down the sidewalk with a sour taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t be upset with you, he just wants the attention you’re getting and also desperately wants to give you that attention too. 

He knew how charming Geto could be, how calculating he was when he decided he wanted to do something. He just hoped that he wouldn’t hurt you like he did to Satoru. He’d finally find it in him to truly hate him if Geto ever caused you to question your worth like Satoru had. 

This all made him so fucking sick. And he saw that look in Geto’s eyes, he knew how Satoru felt about you. It was hard not to scream in frustration. He wanted to push him and see what his intentions were with you. 

He sighs when he’s met with the sight of his front door, putting his keys in the lock and slipping inside. He stares blankly at the shoes in the entryway, his heart beating in a sick rhythm when he sees your boots laying neatly next to Geto’s hightops. 

But it's so late… His brain refuses to connect the dots until a masculine groan he’s all too familiar with sounds further inside. 

“Fuck-” A breathy moan slides down the hall and into his ears as he edges his way to the living room only to be greeted to the sight of the two of you together on their couch.

His eyes widen at the sight of you straddling Geto’s lap half naked, your shirt thrown carelessly across the area rug with Geto’s. His gaze catches every torturous detail in high definition. 

Geto’s hand fists into the hair at the nape of your neck, jerking your face into place as he lips devour yours, his tongue tangling with yours, easily dominating you and pulling a defeated whimper from your throat. Satoru’s eyes dip to Geto’s free hand that’s shoved its way under your bra, greedily groping the mass of flush, paying special attention to your nipples. 

The attention has you hazy, your eyes cloudy and unfocused when Satoru watches your face break away from Geto’s falling back with a loud moan. Geto surges forward and takes advantage of your new position to attack your neck, sucking stark marks onto the column of your throat so dark you wouldn’t be able to go out without hiding them. 

It’s easy to imagine that it's him doing this to you, that you had chosen him instead. But when you shove your hand needily into Geto’s pants, stroking his cock in such a delicious rhythm you have him bucking into your touch, his hands leaving you to start pushing down your leggings in a rushed manner, Satoru loses it. It should be him doing that.  

“Thought we said no fucking in the common rooms?” He snaps meanly, loving how you jolt and push Geto away in a panic, hastily wrapping your arms around your front to cover yourself up as a crimson blush radiates all the way down your chest. “Make sure to use protection, Geto will try to convince you he doesn’t need it.”

Satoru growls and turns on his heels, slamming his door harshly when Geto’s only response was a smirk and satisfied, taunting sparkle in his eyes. 

He seethes as he throws his bag to the ground, jealousy rampant that you were free to be loved by him and resentment burning that Geto may have ruined his new hope for happiness.

tag list: @sugarbooger513 @sugarmapoops @roughwithfluff @severelytalentless @silversslut @dreamyyholland @wobblewobble822 @rafzaha @chososhoney @littlemochi @bebechinas99 @saoney @pelicanpizza @damncakie @katgalle @honeyyjems @tsukikoxo @kibananya @reine-son[[ if your blog name is crossed out i couldn't tag you]]

#kentosot original #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru #suguru geto #satosugu #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen au

[sailor-aviator]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Three

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Jake flirting, suggestive language, talk of theft, talk of hangings. I think that's it.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I know y'all have been begging for it, so here you go! Just a reminder to everyone that my 100 follower celebration is going on through the rest of the weekend, which means my ask box is open for requests of drabbles or just to talk about those fine af Top Gun men! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator!

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

If there was one thing you absolutely hated, it was the heat. You hated how it made you sweat. You hated how it made everything stick to you. Most of all, you hated how you could never seem to find any relief. You mulled over all of this as you stabbed into the dirt beneath your fingers, making a hole just big enough to plant your newly acquired seeds. Hondo had been excited to show you the new variety he had gotten in the previous morning, and you had eagerly purchased multiple packs.

Now, you were covered in dirt, sweat dripping down your brow. You leaned back, tilting your head towards the sky as you wiped your arm across your forehead. Your temples pounded from the exertion, and you were sure most of your hair had come out of the bun you had secured it in that morning.

Your mother had loved gardening, and she would always drag you outside to the small patch of land your father had set aside to do so. She taught you the different names of the flowers she kept and how to tend to the different vegetables.

“They’re just like people, Scout,” she had said with a smile, plucking a ripened tomato from the vine in front of her. She had handed it to you to put in the basket, and you had done so obediently. “Every single plant has different needs, and if those needs aren’t met, the plant can’t flourish.”

You hadn’t understood what she had meant by that, and you still weren’t sure you did as you kneeled on the ground. Sure, different species of plants needed different amounts of things like water or sunlight, but two tomato plants should be treated the exact same way in order to grow. You weren’t much of a gardener, however, but you had taken it upon yourself to continue to do it after she had passed. The thought of nothing growing when your mother had always worked so hard to make sure life was ever plentiful caused a pain in your chest and tears to prickle behind your eyes.

A low whistle caught you off guard, and you jumped. Snapping your head to the far side of the fence that surrounded your tiny garden, was none other than Jake Seresin.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he drawled, looking you up and down. You felt a different kind of heat rise on your cheeks as you fixed him with a scowl.

“What do you want, Jake?”

He pushed off from the side of the fence and casually strolled to where you had left the gate propped open. You moved to stand, attempting to brush the dirt off of your skirt in the process.

“Just thought I’d come and see how my best girl was doin’ today,” he said, shooting you a wink. Your lips pursed as you took him in.

“I’m not your girl,” you said finally, taking in the stubble that was starting to grow on his chin. “You need to shave.”

Jake hummed as you pushed past him and towards the barn. “You don’t like it? Martha told me last night while we were down at the saloon that she thought I should grow it out. Said it would make me look rugged.”

“Then grow it out,” you grumbled. “I really don’t care either way.”

Jake came up to your side and fixed you with a mirthful stare. “You don’t have an opinion at all on it?”

“None whatsoever.”

“That’s strange,” he chuckled. “Most girls have an opinion one way or the other. The ones who like their men clean shaven like it ‘cause it gives their men a nice, boy next door kind of charm that’s hard to resist. The ones who like a little growth, though…”

You opened the door to the barn, but Jake stepped in front of you, halting your movement. A sly grin had broken out on his face, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. He was so close, you could smell the mix of smoke and and fresh linen on his clothes. It was an oddly comforting smell. His lips brushed against your ear and you felt a shudder run up your spine as he said, “they like how it feels against their skin when we’re alone.”

A beat of silence passed between you two before Jake pulled away from you slowly, looking at you with an amused smirk. You scowled up at him before pushing past him and into the barn.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed, moving towards the ladder to the second floor where you kept the hay.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, darlin’,” he laughed as you began to climb the ladder. You looked over at him with a sour look, and he huffed another laugh. “I was talkin’ about whether or not you like your men clean shaven, sweetheart.”

“I really haven’t, Mr. Seresin,” you said as you hoisted yourself up onto the ground of the second floor. Jake followed you up the ladder and stopped when he saw you attempting to pick up a rather large bale of hay. He rushed to your side, grabbing it from your hands and walking over to the edge of the floor.

“I don’t need your help,” you protested. Jake threw the hay down onto the first floor with a loud thump and turned back to look at you with a scowl of his own.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, already moving to grab another bale, “you’re getting it.”

You huffed but allowed him to throw down the second bale. He turned to you as if to ask if he needed to get another one, and you shook your head. He allowed you to move down the ladder first before following suit. Once you two were on the ground floor, you moved to start dispersing the hay amongst the stables for the horses. You heard Jake scoff behind you, and before you could even touch the hay, you felt a pair of hands land on your waist.

“Jake!” you screeched as he picked you up. Turning with you in his arms, he sat you down on the workbench that had been shoved against one of empty stable doors. You moved to stand back up, but Jake shoved you down gently by your shoulders.

“Stay,” he commanded, giving you a look that left no room for argument. You huffed, but complied, watching him as he began to work.

“Does your brother know you’re doing all of this?” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course he does.”

“He hasn’t thought to hire any ranch hands?”

“He’s working on that part,” you mumbled. “Besides, it’s not like there’s much to do around here yet, and I am more than capable of doing it all for the time being.”

“Right,” Jake responded sardonically. “And when you keel over from exhaustion, then what?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Sure it won’t,” he said, throwing the last bit of hay into the final stall. He dusted his hands off and walked over to stand back in front of you. Placing his hands on either side of you, he leaned in so that his warm breath ghosted over your face. A smirk tugged on his lips. “So, do I get some kind of reward for helping you out today?”

“What is it you want?” you asked suspiciously, eyes flickering down to his lips momentarily.

“Let’s see,” he hummed, thumb stroking over the back of your hand where it rested on the table. He leaned in even closer. “I can think of a few things.”

“Don’t,” you said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back. Jake moved away only slightly. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

“And what kind of idea would that be, pretty girl?” he smirked.

“The kind that can ruin my reputation.”

Jake scoffed out a laugh, and you frowned. “I’m serious, Jake. A woman’s reputation is all she has in this world.”

Jake studied you for a second. “I think you have more to offer this world than just your reputation, sweet girl.”

“Yes, well,” you stumbled, feeling your cheeks flush yet again from the intensity of his gaze. “You would be one of the few people to think so.”

“That’s a cryin’ shame,” he murmured, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered, almost cupping your cheek as he stared at you. He really was so unfairly handsome.

“You should go,” you whispered, eyes darting between his own.

Jake stroked your cheek slowly. “Yeah? You sure you don’t want me to stay.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, almost breathlessly. Clearing your throat and shaking your head in an attempt to clear it, you said more firmly, “I mean, yes. I need to get ready for dinner at Maverick’s tonight.”

Jake gave one last stroke of his thumb to your cheek before pulling away completely. He fixed you with a mischievous grin. “Need any help getting ready?”

“Jake.”

“I’m only teasin’, pretty girl,” he laughed, already moving to leave the barn. Looking over his shoulder and back at you, he gave you one last wink. “Don’t be a stranger, Scout.”

Maverick and Penny’s home was humble, but no less spacious than your own. Maverick was a kind man with an air of assuredness about him that put any of your worries about your brother’s ranch at ease.

“I’ll help him every step of the way, y/n,” he said with a smile.

“Please, Maverick,” you had smiled back, “call me Scout.”

Two other men had joined your group for dinner that night - Sheriff Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and U.S. Marshal Beau “Cyclone” Simpson. Sheriff Kazansky was a quiet man, and you learned that he and Maverick had a friendship that spanned back decades.

“I wasn’t going to let this scoundrel found a town without someone there to make sure it didn’t all go to hell,” the sheriff had laughed. Maverick had rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly at his old friend.

“I was a bit of a wild card back in those days,” he admitted.

“‘A bit’ is the understatement of the century,” laughed Kazansky before launching into a story about the time Maverick had taken it upon himself to go bull riding.

“So,” Penny had started once the laughter had died down. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company tonight, Mr. Simpson?”

The marshal finished chewing his food before answering. “Well, ma’am. I’ve been tasked with rounding up a group of wanted outlaws that have started making a name for themselves out here in the western territories.”

“Oh?” Maverick questioned, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.

“Yes,” Simpson continued. “A group calling themselves “the Daggers,” in fact.”

You felt your blood run cold. Taking a steadying breath, you spoke up. “The Daggers, marshal?”

“Yes, miss. They’ve stirred up quite the ruckus over the past couple of years. They robbed a bank about a hundred miles north of here just a few months ago.”

“Really?” you breathed, setting your fork down. Simpson offered you a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about, miss,” he said. “We’ll have in custody in no time.”

“So, what brings you here to our small town?” prodded Kazansky, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, the word is that this town is where they like to come and set up shop. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“If I did,” the sheriff smirked, “you’d be the first to know.”

“What do you plan on doing when you catch them?” you asked.

“We’re going to hang’em,” Simpson answered plainly. Your heart stopped, and you felt your eyes grow wide before you could stop them. You heard Penny’s breath catch and Maverick became eerily still as you all stared at the marshal.

Mr. Simpson, to his credit, seemed to grow uncomfortable at the sudden change in atmosphere. With a clear of his throat, the marshal stood and offered Penny a smile. “This was a mighty fine meal, ma’am, but I’m afraid I’ve got some work I need to be getting back to.”

“Of course,” Penny smiled. With a nod to the table, Beau Simpson turned and walked out of the house.

Maverick groaned, resting his face in his hands. “I’m going to kill those kids.”

“Pete,” Penny started, but he shook his head.

“I can’t keep bailing them out, Penny. I don’t know how many more favors I can call in.”

“I might have a few,” grumbled Kazansky. “But nothin’ I can guarantee.”

You gulped. “How many times have you had to rescue them?”

Maverick bit out a humorless laugh as Kazansky grimaced next to him.

“Enough times to where that’s how Jake earned the nickname ‘Hangman,’” Maverick stated, casting you a solemn look. You felt the color drain from your face. You weren’t sure why this whole situation made you feel sick. Perhaps it was due to the mentions of the gallows. You had seen hangings before, and you never understood the amusement people got from going to watch them. You found them horrible, feeling nauseous at the memories of the bodies as they writhed in the air.

“Are you alright, Scout?” Penny asked quietly, noticing the change in your demeanor. You took a deep breath and offered her a small smile.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, turning to look back at Maverick who continued talking.

“That boy has been on the business end of a rope more times than I can count. I keep tellin’ him to keep his nose out of where it doesn’t belong, but does he listen to me?” he asked with a shake of his head.

“Maybe he just needs something to help keep him grounded and out of trouble,” Benjamin offered.

“Something,” Penny hummed, casting you a knowing glance, “or someone?”

Sheriff Kazansky let out a booming laugh as Maverick chuckled at his wife’s suggestion. “The day Jake Seresin hangs up his womanizing ways is the day I eat my hat,” he said, tone filled with mirth. Penny smiled knowingly.

“Would you like it stewed or fried, honey?”

“I’ll let the chef decide,” Maverick had scoffed. Penny looked like she was going to say something else, but you cut her off.

“Maverick, I wanted to talk to you about the children in this town.”

“What about’em?” he smiled.

“Well,” you started, “I noticed that they seem to be running around town all hours of the day. Shouldn’t they be in school?”

Maverick grimaced. “Yes, they should, but unfortunately we don’t have a schoolhouse, and we don’t have anyone who knows the first thing about teaching.”

“I see,” you murmured. Maverick offered you another smile.

“I promise, we’re working on it. Have you thought about teaching?”

“Goodness, no,” you laughed with a shake of your head. “I don’t think I’d have the patience for it.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied. “Well, I’ll guess we’ll keep lookin’ then.”

The rest of dinner passed by quickly, and before you knew it, both you and Benjamin were bidding farewell to the older couple.

“Come by anytime, you hear?” Penny called after you as you made your way home. Benjamin wished you a good night before retiring to his room, and for the first time that evening, you were left alone with your thoughts. You washed your face in the basin you kept in your room before quickly changing into your night dress. You cracked the window open in hopes that the cool, night breeze would offer your heated skin some relief. You snuffed out your candle and moved to lay in bed. Staring up at your ceiling, you couldn’t help but to think back to the conversation with Marshal Simpson. You thought about the things he said Jake and his friends had done.

“That man,” you growled to yourself. “That stupid, stupid man.”

You thought of how infuriating said man could be with his attempts at flirting, his snarky comments, his broad chest, his surprisingly soft fingers that held your cheek oh so gently…

You felt a burst of warmth pool in your stomach as you thought about how soft his lips had been on the shell of your ear, and how rough his stubble would feel pressed against your-

“Stop it,” you hissed at yourself, placing your pillow over your face and yelling into it. You laid there for a second, willing your thoughts to stop focusing on the man you were sure you hated more than anything. He was a scoundrel, after all. You placed your pillow back in its original position, closing your eyes with a deep breath. Sleep soon found you, dreams filled with green eyes and quiet sighs of your name falling from his lips.

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman top gun #hangman #top gun hangman #dhtn

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Pregnant Reader - Part 4

Cravings (For Food, For Melissa)

Thank you to everyone who has liked and commented and reblogged this series so far (and an extra thank you to those of you who have even asked for more!)

What started out as a one shot has now turned into a little 5 part series. I'm not entirely sure when I'll manage to finish part 5, but I'll get there! (And to those of you who left prompts - I will also get there with them!)

Anyway, enough rambling - links to the previous parts of this little mini series below and part 4 under the cut. :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You smile as Melissa puts your lunch bag down on the table in front of you, chuckling as promptly turns her chair around to face the opposite way before sitting down.  It wasn’t the first time.  At home there had been a number of occasions when the combinations you had been craving had made her want to vomit.

Barb, sat at the table with you both, watches with interest.  “Did you two argue?”

“Nope,” replies Melissa.  “I just don’t wanna see this.”

The other woman continues to watch as you open up your lunch, lifting the lids on the various containers within and starting to create your cravings masterpiece. 

“That…puts my cravings to shame,” admits the kindergarten teacher.  “That…”

“Is an abomination to all that is edible,” finishes the red head.

You just smile as you take a bite of your creation.  Admittedly, your smile is aimed more at the fact that as disgusting as Melissa finds it, she’s the one who packed your lunch that day, albeit packing the components separately.  She loves you, but putting those ingredients together is something she just won’t do for anyone. 

*

“You are gonna love me!” grins Melissa as she closes the front door behind her. 

“I already do!” you call through from the sofa where you’re trying to get comfortable. 

“I got ‘em!” she grins as she appears in the doorway, waving the bag of chips at you.  Propped on her hip she also holds an almost overflowing grocery bag.  “I got ‘em all!”

“I do love you,” you manage through the tears that threaten to steal your words.  You had been unable to settle, finally getting out of bed some time around 2am.  It had been the opening of closing of every cupboard in the kitchen that roused a sleepy Melissa around an hour later.

Half asleep she had wrapped herself around you, her front pressed to your back, eventually cajoling you into admitting what you were looking for.  Barely a few minutes later she had donned her jacket and had her car keys in hand.

“Melissa no, you can’t go out at this time.”

She had merely smirked.  “Either I try and get these or we both you you’ll be pacing the floors all night and I won’t be able to sleep either.”  With a peck to your cheek, she was gone. 

But now she was back, dropping down onto the sofa next to you.  You smile as she tucks herself into your side, kissing the top of her head.  “How many stores did you have to go to to find them?”

She shrugs.  “A few.”

You shake your head, knowing that a few probably meant every store that was open within a five mile radius.  “You know I would have survived without them, right?”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be happy without them,” she says, reaching to open the bag of chips.  She pops one in her mouth, screwing up her face at the flavour.  “And you can have all of them.”

You chuckle.  “Sure you don’t want another one?”

“Wouldn’t wanna deprive you and that little Tesoro you’re carrying,” she replies, her head coming to rest on your shoulder as her arm snakes around and comes to rest protectively across your bump.

It melts your heart every time she calls the baby by a fond little nickname, and she has plenty of them.  The closer to the time of her arrival it gets, the more Melissa seems to do it, and you’re quite sure she’s unaware she’s doing it. 

Feeling Melissa leaning more heavily against you, you twist your head to catch a look at her face.  Eyes closed and mouth slightly open, she’s already in a deep sleep.  With a smile, you reach and manage to catch the edge of the blanket that had been draped over the arm of the couch.  Tucking it around the two of you, you try and crunch as quietly as you can as you continue to tuck into the fruits of Melissa’s midnight cravings snack run. 

*

You’re aware of what you’re doing, almost painfully so.  And you also know that Melissa has to have noticed it to.  Neither of you would be considered the cuddliest of people, but you’re more tactile with each other than you are with anyone else.  At this point, the touches exchanged between you are almost second nature, a hand on your back here, playing with the ends of Melissa’s flaming hair as she sits close, her hand resting on your thigh if you’re sat next to her.  It’s never anything too obvious, but subtle and reassuring. 

Or at least, it had been reassuring until you started to feel the effects of certain hormones.  You had read that there was a possibility that during certain phases of your pregnancy when you might feel more horny than you normally would.  You’d shrugged it off.  So you might feel a little more turned on than usual, nothing you couldn’t handle.

What you hadn’t been prepared for was being horny all the time.  Every little touch felt like it burned.  The friction of your own pants could be enough to drive you to distraction.  It was absurd.  Humiliating.  Especially when you had never felt less attractive in your life.

You felt huge and gross and swollen and sore.  You try to tell yourself that the way Melissa looks at you has not changed, but when you look in the mirror, it’s difficult.  You look like an inflated version of yourself.  Your curves feel grossly emphasised by the ever growing life inside of you.  It doesn’t help that nothing feels like it fits.  Or at least, none of your usual go to outfits.  No, anything you wear now comes from the maternity section and makes you feel fat and frumpy. 

It's that feeling that has you shying away from Melissa’s touches, finding reasons to keep your distance.  You hate it.  Miss her even when you’re laying right next to her.  In bed one night, you feel her press a kiss to the back of your clothed shoulder where you lay facing away from her.

“You want anything before I turn the light off?”

The way you shrug away from her doesn’t go unnoticed, and as you turn to answer her question you clearly see the hurt on her face before she manages to hide it.  She forces a smile and shifts away from you.  This time, however, rather than letting her, you reach out and catch her arm. 

With no small effort, you sit up, turning to face her.  “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, the false smile never leaving her lips. 

“’Lissa,” you sigh.  “I know you’ve noticed.  And I’m sorry.  It’s not because I don’t want you to touch me, it’s because I feel…I feel like I’m on fire!  Every little touch sets me ablaze and I feel like I’m going to explode!”  You take a deep breath, stilling your gesturing hands.  “I want it so bad, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.  Like this is all hormones and you’re just scrathing an itch.  But I also don’t want to want to like I do because I feel a mess.  A huge, swollen, sore, gross, sweaty mess.” 

You’re not sure when the tears started but by the end of your little tirade your breath is coming in hiccupping gulps and you’re sniffling as tears stream down your face.  You don’t fight when Melissa tugs you to her side, accepting the handkerchief she holds out in front of you.

“You know I still find you beautiful, right?” she asks.

Your response is a snort.  A very ugly, wet snort.  “I’m a snotty, snivelling mess,” you grumble. 

She shakes her head, shifting so you can see her face.  “No, you’re beautiful and I love you.”  She leans in to kiss you.  It’s soft and it’s gentle until suddenly its not.  She leaves you breathless, your hands clutching her shirt.  “Still feel like you’re on fire?”

“All the damn time,” you hiss. 

She kisses you again but can feel your hesitation.  You’re holding back, and she knows it. Twisting to face you, she leans her forehead against your own.  “Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”

You hesitate still, trembling with need.  Pulling back, you look into those green eyes you love so much.  See the fire there.  See the love.  “Please,” you whisper, whimpering when she presses her lips to yours once more. 

You felt you should have known she’d make you feel amazing.  And not just physically.  She’s constantly checking in, reassuring you.  Somehow, she knows that tonight, you need her close.  That you need the comfort of her lips on your own, to be able to see everything she feels written plainly on her face.  It takes a little bit of figuring out, finding new ways that work, experimenting with new angles, all the while she delights in how much more sensitive you are.  You take your own delight in the still being able to please her, revelling in each sound that pours from her lips, in every hitch of her breath, of how she clings to you as she comes undone. 

For the first time in weeks, as you lie together afterwards, you feel settled.  With Melissa pressed against your back, her hand resting against your bump you are sated and settled, as is she, and the life growing within you.  “I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you before.”

She nuzzles against the back of your neck.  “You talked to me tonight.”

You cover her hand with your own, lacing your fingers together.  “But I should have talked to you before, not pushed you away.  That wasn’t fair on you.  You’ve had to deal with all my other cravings, now you have to deal with my cravings for you too.”

You feel her smirk against your skin as she chuckles.  “I watched you put lime jello in a salad the other day, believe me, this craving is way easier to handle than some of the things I’ve watched you eat recently.”

#melissa x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 7 - "Letters of Life and Love"

AN: Sorry for the long wait, lots of stuff going on in the personal. Also I may update the picture now that we have a new hairstyle for Jace lolol

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series masterlist here!

Summary: Tales of the past can help shape the future.

TW: blatant talks of past self harm, canon typical incest, Jace being tooth rotteningly sweet, talks of basically everyone being in love with everyone

Relationships: Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, talks of just about every other ship imaginable in this story

Word Count: 3.8k

Aemond did not take it any further as we flew on Vhaela. He told me it was so that I could focus on flying, since it had been so long. Whether that was the truth, I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Yet, I didn’t particularly care.

Soaring through the skies on Vhaela’s back was perfect. The chill in the air stung against the skin of my face. The supple leather of the saddle she wore rubbed against my inner thighs. We passed birds who moved out of the way in perfect time with our approach. Today was the day I was meant to take to the skies.

I truly believed that the gods, whether they be the old or the new, made certain moments perfect. There had just been too many moments in my life that were so good there were no other explanations. This flight on Vhaela, the first time I flew on her, the first time I slept with Aemond, and the night I lost my maidenhead to Jace. How could I expect that much good to come from anything but divine intervention?

Aemond accompanied me the rest of the week so that I may fly, though he did choose to fly on Vhagar. We never went far, never past Felwood to the south or Duskendale to the north. Though in my bones I longed for more. I don’t imagine I would ever fly enough to be satisfied. In the sky I was free. Free from obligation and duty, free from the pains of my soul.

Free from the wretchedness that is Mother preparing me for this feast.

It felt as though I should’ve never agreed to it to begin with. I didn’t want every Lord in the seven kingdoms ogling me once again. Especially if word got out that my betrothal to Jace was no longer official. Men would see me as an opportunity to get close to the throne, maybe even have their children sit it one day. The thought disgusted me.

“Daemon, Rhaena, and Baela have returned from Driftmark. Your sisters are very anxious to see you,” Mother told me as she braided my hair. We were in her chambers, the door being propped open once we were dressed to allow a breeze. Today was warmer than usual.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she moved. Sometimes I wondered if she thought of me as a doll. That is not to say anything against her parenting or the care she has given me, but it does cross my mind. She took every opportunity to dress me and fix my hair until I was perfect. Or as perfect as I could be.

“Step sisters,” I corrected her.

Rhaena and Baela may view my brothers as theirs but they made sure that I understood I was not their sister. Mother and Daemon always assumed part of it was Baela having a crush on Jace and Rhaena’s loyalty to her twin. I tried to offer to her that she could marry him and become Queen one day, begging with her that I would give anything to be their sister. But it was never about Jace.

Rhaena had been too kind and timid to say it to my face but Baela never had any problems with such. It was all about Vhagar and the role I played in Aemond claiming her. They claimed I showed no loyalty. That we were cousins and I should’ve convinced Aemond to allow Rhaena the chance to claim her first. They never listened to me when I told them he would’ve done it whether I was there or not. And they also never took into account I did not know them at that point. Yes, we were cousins, but they grew up far from King’s Landing. I grew up with Aemond at my side. Was he not owed my loyalty more?

“You are all women grown now,” she told me. “Surely you can move past this.”

“Mother I love the way you love your children, Baela and Rhaena included, but you need to realize a lot of us are far more capable than you think,” I said so firmly her hands took pause. “They are not the victims in anything, not more than I or Aemond. Yes, Rhaena did not have a dragon as a child but neither did Aemond until he claim Vhagar, and I waited longer. Yes, Baela and Rhaena lost their mother as children, but the four of us lost both men who could count as our father and I wasn’t even allowed to mourn. Rhaena and Baela started the fight that night on Driftmark because of their entitlement and Aemond lost his eye. The three of us did not get along during our girlhoods but not because of anything that I could help.”

“Darling,” she whispered. Her hands continued their motions, finishing the intricate braid.

“I offered Baela to take my place, did she ever tell you that? I thought if it was about Jace and her then I could deal with not marrying him so I could have sisters. It was never about that, it was about me telling the truth of Aemond losing his eye,” I told her. Tears started stinging my eyes as I spoke about things I swore I would never admit bothered me.

My entire life I always felt I had to be perfect. The perfect princess who would be the perfect queen. This kept me from having many emotional outbursts. The closest I ever got to crying in front of others was when tears forced themselves into existence as they did now. My pain was my own and I did not need others to experience it.

Jace always called it unhealthy. He said one day I would explode with the years of feelings I kept inside. I had always thought he was full of shit until I began to realize that physically harming myself made the pain in my chest ease. When I made a fist so tightly that my fingernails became so deeply embedded in my palms I started to draw blood, I was concerned at first. Until I realized I felt better. I referred to it as my pressure relief.

It became a growing concern. Jace caught me taking a knife to my thigh once when he had come to question why I was avoiding him. He was appalled at what I was doing. I tried to explain it was nothing bad, that I was merely caring for myself. He did not see it that way. He held me that night late into the night.

That was the night I gave him my maidenhead. I wasn’t sure you could fix someone by loving them hard enough. But gods, that night he tried. Looking back, it was awkward and clumsy, neither of us really knowing what to do. We were fifteen, nowhere near marriage, and Jace had always said I would be his first, so neither of us had any experience or had been taught anything. Though, I would not change anything about it. Thinking about it made me miss him more than I had the entirety of these last few weeks.

“You always stand up for every other child yet you do not stand up for the ones who need it most. I do not know if it is because you think I am strong enough to handle it, but I need you to come to my defense too. Not allow Jace to punish me in the ways he always does whenever I have displeased him. Not assume I can handle Baela and Rhaena isolating me for doing what was right,” I whispered, blinking rapidly to get the tears to go away. “Does Daemon know how close Alicent and you are?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Her jaw clenched for a split second. If I were not looking for any sign that I may be right, I would miss it. With that simple little movement, I knew that even if she denied it to me, I was right.

But then she eased and smirked at me. “You assume he is not involved?” she asked.

My eyes widened. That was enough asking questions for now.

“Aemond has asked I do not announce that your betrothal to Jacaerys is on pause,” she told me after a few moments of silence. I must have had a confused look on my face because she chuckled and then continued. “He says if other lords know, they will try something idiotic.”

“Smart man, he is,” I whispered. “But they will know something is going on when Jace ignores me as he has done for weeks now.”

“It was not my intention to ignore you, my sun,” Jace’s voice sounded in my ears. I turned to my left and saw him standing in the open door way. “Did nobody tell you? I got pulled away to Dragonstone and have only just returned an hour ago.”

“I think I would know if you had gone to Dragonstone,” Mother said before I had the chance to respond.

The more I thought, the more I believed that Jace had not been here. I had been at breakfast and dinner before anyone else and he had not been there. Whenever I sent someone to get him, they merely said they could not find him. Mother and I were so used to Jace being rather dramatic when his feelings were hurt, so his avoidance of anything to do with me had not come with questions. I was merely used to it.

He sighed rather loudly, an exasperated type of sigh. It sounded like an old man whose grandchildren were irking him and trying to get him to tell him stories of war. Perhaps he had grown.

“Then it is my fault for entrusting Joffrey to tell you both. He was there when I got the letter. I would have told you myself but the matter was urgent,” he said, walking over to us.

Mother had just finished pinning the braid. She had wrapped it around itself on the back of my head. It was a hairstyle her mother did for her before she had died, in fact doing it the morning of her death. She learned to do it and wore her hair this way the day she was named heir. It felt special

When I stood from my seat to face him, I noticed his jaw drop a bit. He looked me up and down many times over. When Alicent brought this dress to me this morning, I was a bit skeptical. It was a very fancy dress made of black silk and decorated with blood red rubies. It had a matching black silk cape that fastened around my neck, leaving only the area just above my cleavage visible. I wore earrings made of silver and a jewel called green tourmaline, a beautiful green with secondary tones of blue. It was, apparently, the closest one could get to a Velaryon House colored stone. I wore black shoes that bared the top of my feet, giving the style of my bed slippers but more durable. The outfit was modest, not showing enough skin to be considered indecent, but yet the fabric clung to my every curve in a way that felt completely indecent.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I feel a bit like a ham stuffed in a stocking,” I whispered, biting her lip.

“You are not a ham,” he said before offering a smile.

He was in a rather lovely outfit himself. His shirt was made of matching black silk, though it did not cling to him in such a way. It was fitted, giving him shape but hiding the further intricacies of his body. He was wearing fitted pants as well, making me blush a bit at how amazing his body looked in them.

“So what business did you attend in Dragonstone?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sheepstealer was causing more trouble than usual,” he told the both of us. “As Prince of Dragonstone, the concerns of that island are mine own.”

Before Mother could say anything, I hugged him tightly. “Next time come get me yourself. If I am to be your Queen I need to be involved with your matters,” I said instinctually.

It occurred to me after I said it that I may not end up as his Queen. The possibility of that had never been present in my mind. It was always our plan in life that we would rule side by side, never one without the other. Any other reality made me ache.

My heart ached and it felt ridiculous. I am stuck choosing between two men that I love with everything in me. If I wanted to be really technical, I have three choices, though I could not name how I feel about Aegon. They love me the same. How silly it felt of me to be saddened by either possibility when no matter what I would love happily.

“I apologize, my sun,” he said quietly, hugging me to him just as tightly. “You are right, of course. I cannot hope to be a good King if I do not consider my Queen’s words on every decision.”

My heart fluttered against my chest. He still considered our marriage an inevitability, not just a possibility. He still thought of us being married and ruling together.

“Allow me to stay with you until it is time for your entrance?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly.

Mother looked between the two of us. Her gaze settled on me, her eyes searching my face. I gave her a subtle nod. She needed to know I had to be with him.

When she left the room, the doors still wide open behind her, I leaned into Jace’s arms. The world felt calm when he held me. The universe knew, somehow, that he was who I needed as my twin. He and I were balanced perfectly.

“You truly thought I was ignoring you?” he asked once I pulled away.

I looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back to him. He was looking at my with sad eyes. It hurt my heart to see him look like that.

“Yes. I thought you were upset enough that you were punishing me,” I told him.

He nodded and took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. Both for making you think that, and for what happened that night. It was not my place to act in such a way.”

“In truth, I think it is more your place than Aemond’s,” I admitted to him. I sighed quietly then looked to him. “You had a point. You are my twin, who I am formally betrothed to.”

He smiled at me. His smile was beautiful in a way that one had to see to understand. If you could imagine the way the prettiest sunrise makes you feel, that is how his smile makes me feel.

“You know, I like that you’ve grown your hair out. It’s quite curly, and you look amazing,” I told him. That simple of a compliment was enough to make him blush.

Jace and I felt so different than Aemond and I felt. With him there were no games. No constant battle for control. Our love for each other was simple and pure, uncaring of who was in control. I longed for the days when he was the only one who held a piece of me. It was so much simpler then.

“You always used to beg for me to grow it out,” he said with a smile on his face.

“And I was not wrong to,” I told him, smirking at him. “You look handsome. Classical. Like the prince from a fairytale.”

He reached his hand out towards me. I took it immediately, our fingers intertwining. He had somewhat of a sad smile on his face even though his eyes were sparkling like they normally did.

“It was never about us, was it?” he asked me. I couldn’t help the confusion that crossed my face at his question. “I mean…you are able to be complete with all of us, yes? Me, Aemond, even Aegon. The different sides of you that we all see, that is what makes you whole, and so it was never about one of us being better than another, but it was all about you feeling completed.”

As he spoke, he squeezed my hand. My throat felt as though it was beginning to close. All I could do was nod. I had no argument, no further explanation for him.

When Jace pulled me to sit on his lap, I could feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. The way he was so adamant about holding me close scared me. It almost felt like he was about to tell me he was done, that he didn’t want me anymore.

“I wish I could be the only one you need,” he said softly, placing his hand on my cheek. “I could never make you unhappy, issa dāria, and I thought giving you the time to find which you wanted would be the way to make you happy. But I realized something.”

“If this is your way of explaining to me you do not wish to marry me anymore, please just say it outright. This feels more cruel,” I whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

He shook his head softly. “Not at all. I could never love anyone else. I merely want to say that I have realized you have told me what would make you happy since we were children, and I was too selfish to ever consider it.”

My brain tried to understand what he was saying, to really grasp his meaning. But I could feel my heart banging against my chest as though it could already sense his next words. There was no way he was actually about to say it, was there?

“If marrying both Aemond and I is what will make you happy, I will no longer fight against it. I do not know how everything will work, I do not know how Aegon will fit into it, but I know that I love you and you love me. In the end, that is all that matters to me,” he told me, wiping away a tear that I had not been aware escaped my eye.

My entire life I had been begging for this. My entire life I knew that I was always meant to be with them, that my fate intertwined with theirs. I had convinced myself it was selfish and impossible.

I looked everywhere along his face, trying to find any uncertainty or reluctance. Yet, no matter how desperately I searched, there was none. He spoke the truth and his mind was made up.

“I imagine you already have thoughts as to how you wish it to work,” I whispered. He smiled at me and leaned forward to give me a gentle, albeit brief, kiss.

“Ideally we wait for certain things. You and I marry and give ourselves a couple of years so that we can have a child without question. I will not try to stop you from being with either of them in that time, I merely hope you will respect me enough to take precautions. Then after a couple of years, you and Aemond marry in the Valyrian tradition. Everything else I figure we will take it as it comes,” he said softly, running his thumb over my cheek again and again.

“And you truly love me enough for this?” I asked him. If there was any part of him that had any doubts, I could not ask him to do this.

“When I was in Dragonstone, I found letters. Many more than I ever thought had been shared, and in truth I should not have read any of them. But they were letters that Mother had received from Daemon, from our Aunt Laena, from our fathers, even from Alicent. All of these letters were discussing life and love in ways I had never thought of such,” he told me.

I placed my hand on the one of his that rested on my cheek. Simultaneously, I was pulling him further into me while holding him. He did not need to say anything else about them.

While I had not seen any from Alicent, I did once find nearly a box stuffed with letters. It was hard to piece together everything without Mother’s words, but I had an idea. Letters from Daemon and Laena talking about longing for Mother’s company, how they should have always been raising us and Rhaena and Baela together from the start. Letters from Ser Harwin, which I am almost certain he would hide for her to find instead of them being sent with a raven, describing her beauty and how she glowed when she was pregnant, thanking her for giving him such blessings. Ser Laenor’s were always phrased as though he was talking to his dearest friend, describing to her the beauty of the sea on the few trips out he went on after their marriage.

I could not honestly say I understood all the implications of them when I first read them. If I were being honest, they confused me more than told me anything. But when I thought back on them, I felt similarly to Jace. They teach more about love than most are willing to openly admit. That love does not always mean you find one person and that was it, after that person you were doomed to be alone.

“And your plans for you?” I asked him. I needed to know. If for no other reason, than if I felt too strongly about him talking about being with someone else, I couldn’t take him up on this. It had to be fair.

“I told you, I will never love anyone else,” he told me with a firmness that I had never heard from him. It was very Kingly of him. “I was not with anyone while you were away, but not because I never tried. After a couple of years, I tried. I tried to find love, I tried to find someone that could make the pain of losing you manageable. But after every person I met, I came to my chambers alone, still praying to every god imaginable you would be returned. I never even got so much as a kiss because any person I spoke with just made me ache more for you.”

“My darling, I never thought it could be so difficult for you,” I whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

He kissed me softly. It truly was the best way to shut me up. And this kiss felt so good. It was like it was the beginning of everything.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #out of time #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 13

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress

Oystein couldn't shake what Y/n had said about his music. She actually liked it. She wanted to hear more of him playing and now she'll never agree to go to another show. He wanted to be pissed off. He wanted to blame Pelle or the rest of his friends, anyone but himself. He hated not being able to talk to Y/n, or see her out and about. She had changed her shifts at the shop so frequently now that he never knew when she was in and Hammeed wouldn't tell him when she was working. He just said that she's got "things".

"How can you go bigger though? I mean the pigs head and bleeding into the audience is insanity but what could possibly top that?" One of their friends asked.

"What if you start cutting the wrists of the people in the audience? That would be crazy!" Pelle frowned at the suggestion.

"Yeah I'm pretty sure legally we would have some problems. If they want to cut themselves during the show, that's one thing but Pelle needs to stick to slicing himself up." Hellhammer made a valid point.

"What about bringing more road kill to shows? Passing it around?" Pelle suggested earning a nod from Oystein.

"You sick fuck, I can barely stand the smell of you guys day to day. The venues we play would kick us out in a heartbeat." Oystein laughed seeing Pelle find realization in the fine they received for the last bag they left behind.

Oystein's stomach lurched when he saw Y/n walk into the bar with a girl and guy with her. He hadn't ever seen her with friends and he wanted to assume they were co-workers but his lack of knowing put him on edge. He let his hair fall in front of his face so he didn't make eye contact with her. She noticed them immediately and walked past them without a second glance. After awhile, Oystein didn't care if she caught him staring, he wanted to know who she was with and why this guy was talking so closely to her. He didn't take into account that it was loud in the bar and that there was another girl with them. All he could think about was her being talked up by some random guy who looked like the complete opposite of himself.

Eventually he stood up to try and move towards the bar and talk to her but one of their crew noticed her finally and stood up.

"EURO LOOK! It's the buzz kill from the show!" He shouted. Y/n rolled her eyes and the two with her looked concerned.

"Maybe we should ask her what she thinks would be more black metal, Dead slitting his throat onstage or drinking the blood of a crow?" Oystein didn't say anything. He figured she would just ignore the question but she propped her elbows on the bar and sipped a beer.

"I think it's about as fucking stupid as cutting himself on stage and bleeding out in a sandwich shop." Now she had the attention of everyone.

"We've already established that you have no idea what black metal truly is. We don't play love and light. We play death and destruction." Oystein knew everyone was looking to him for fight and she laughed at him.

"It's sad you really think a genre of music has to reach people by offing yourself. Hopefully you have a backup singers list." She was tipsy and he didn't want to challenge her but he was on the spot now.

"How could you possibly understand the pure unbridled disgust and debauchery that goes into our world. You live in a mundane existence working two jobs and spending your time with sheep. Dead's connection to the music is his life force spilling out of his veins, breathing in the rot of death and spewing it onto those who worship in the darkness." Oystein preached, riling his crew and holding Y/n's eyes as she finished her beer, listening to his rant and seeing straight through his bullshit.

"Really? My mundane life is a product of circumstances. We all can't be financially supported by our parents, Prince of Darkness." Y/n slammed her now empty beer bottle on the bar top

"Y/n don't." Her friend tried to pull her back as she approached Oystein and made sure to step right into his space, unafraid.

"If you truly believe the absolutely idiocy pouring out of your mouth, you have got serious problems." Oystein breathed in her scent trying not to feel anything but he can't shake it.

"I'll meet you guys outside." Y/n told her friends who quickly hurried past Oystein towards the door as she walked towards the bathroom. Oystein tried to get lost among the crowd so he could intercept her coming out of the bathroom and she wasn't expecting him to yank her by the arm into a phone stall.

"Get off of me! You don't get to touch me ever again." Y/n growled.

"What the fuck is your problem? You ditched me, remember? Why are you coming at me in front of them? What point are you trying to make?" Oystein argued.

"Your minions called me out. I didn't start this Euronymous." The way she said his name stung.

"You didn't have to take the bait." Oystein pressed making her laugh pushing past him to get away.

"Newsflash, when you act like an idiot in public, you get what you get. Maybe control your little followers and I won't have to make you feel inferior in front of them." Y/n was getting under his skin and she knew it. He pressed her roughly into the wall and she stared at him.

"Why do you want me to be an asshole to you? You walked away and I'm trying to deal with that-"

"You don't get to treat me like a disgusting, worthless insect. You and Pelle and the rest of those fucks might get away with this bullshit but I won't be quiet." She gritted her teeth so close to his chin, he had to actively fight the urge to kiss her.

"You know you aren't like everyone els-" She shoved Oystein's chest hard sending him stumbling back into the opposite wall with surprising strength.

"You don't want me to make a fool of you? Stay away from me. Stop asking about me, stop showing up at my job wanting to know my schedule, stop putting my name on your fucking grocery courier. Just...fuck off." She finally walked away leaving Oystein still leaning against the wall, feeling truly hurt by her words. He had told her that all she had to do was tell him to fuck off. He didn't want to believe she wanted him to actually leave her alone but she said the magic words. He just didn't expect it to feel so heartbreaking.

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/n #Film: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #One Shot Series #Alkaline Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #13/35

[0anonnymouslyours0]

corruption - eddie munson

warnings/despriction: filthy shit right here... maybe a series? who knows. the filth in question: corruption kink, innocence kink, masturbation ( male ) , overall questionable thoughts on eddies behalf.

the first time eddie saw you, he thought you were an angel. you always wore the tiniest, shortest white dresses with little white kitten heels. you had large eyes, framed by thick black eyelashes. a smatter of freckles covered your cheeks and a blush, that never seemed to leave, also painted them. a halo practically shone around your head. you liked so innocent, so naïve. you were at a house party, which eddie had only been invited to so he could deal. you stood across the room, laughing with your friends. you were drinking orange juice. at a party.

the first time eddie talked to you was when you came into the d&d room after school one day. eddie was arranging the room, in preparation for tonight's game. eddies eyes widened the minute he saw you. a little white top with pink embroidered flowers, and a tiny white skirt that barely covered your ass.

"can i help you darling?" he had asked, a nonchalant expression on his face. he wanted to seem cool. he wanted you to like him.

you blushed, lowering your gaze to the floor.

"uh- this is the wrong room.. sorry." you squeaked, turning on your heel sharply.

"wait." eddie had said, calmly.

"nobody just stumbles into this room accidently. why'd you come here?"

your cheeks had gone impossibly red, and you shifted from side to side nervously.

"i.. was just curious i s'pose."

"curious of what?" eddie said, a smile playing on his mouth.

you bit your lip, and finally met his gaze.

"people just say things.. i thought nobody would be here so i wanted to check it out."

"is that right sweetheart? i bet you were surprised when you saw me."

"i was-"

"hm. why don't you come to tonight's game, check it out?"

a frown crossed your forehead. a d&d game, with hawkins resident freak? you weren't supposed to be curious about this. you weren't supposed to be somewhat charmed by eddie.

"sure." you squeaked.

eddie grinned.

"7pm, see you later darling."

you blushed, again. you turned and practically ran out the door.

eddie exhaled quickly, running a hand through his hair. that might have been the most difficult conversation of his life. you tits were practically spilling out of your shirt. and that little lip bite you did? god.. he was done for.

the entire club had assembled around the table. eddie had shoved an extra chair in next to his throne.

"why is there an extra chair?" gareth had asked when he walked in.

"we have an extra guest." eddie said grinning.

it was around this time, a knock sounded at the door. eddie gestured dramatically to it, and the guys raised their eyebrows curiously. you stood on the other side of the door, nervously pulling at the dress you had changed into. eddie opened the door, grin on his face. he gulped, as his looked up and down your body quickly. it was the same dress you had worn to the party, the first time he saw you. the top part of it propped up your boobs nicely, giving him a clear display of your cleavage. the shoe-string straps made the straps of the white lacey bra you wore under visible. you looked so innocent. and here he was, showing you the ropes of what was essentially considered a cult. he smiled, motioning you to come inside. he rested a hand on the small of your back. your cheeks heated.

"everyone. this is y/n."

the guys eyes widened at you. nobody expected you. the girl next door, seemingly innocent, to possibly join a d&d club? unbelievable.

eddie was slowly loosing it during the game. he could barely focus on dm-ing when you sat right next to him. you liked the game, a lot actually. you had laughed at the boys overly dramatic turns, you had smiled whenever eddie narrated a new bit of the story. you were perfect. you leaned over the table, every now and again, to reach the drink eddie had given you. eddie had experimentally placed a hand on your exposed thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb. you had frozen in place the moment he did, not daring to move out of fear he might remove it.

you had this weird feeling, coursing through your body. it was warm and fuzzy and only happened when eddie was around.

when the game wrapped up you clapped. you told eddie what a good job he had done. eddie cheeks flushed at the brief praise from you. you had stayed behind, to watch eddie pack up. you talked a bit, asking eddie questions about himself. eddie asked you questions about you. eddie found out your dad was the pastor of the local church. you were such a good girl. going to church, doing well in school, never drinking, never doing drugs. up until now, only talking to people your father deemed acceptable.

but eddie would change this. eddie would show you things. he would teach you. he would corrupt you. he wanted you to be his. he didn't care how long it took. so he started with a simple invite, to come over to his trailer to watch a movie. you accepted giddily. he walked you to your car, which was a cherry red convertible. just as you were about to hop in, you leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"i had fun." you said, smiling at him.

eddie was to flushed to speak. you giggled at him, before hoping into your car. you drove away and eddie was left standing there.

he was thinking filthy thoughts about you. all the things he would do to you once he got a chance. as soon as he got to his van, he immediately unzipped his pants. the little touches, the kiss on the cheek, the dress, it had all got him extremely hard. he finished, groaning your name and muttering words of how his was going to destroy your good girl persona. he will corrupt you.

#stranger things #female reader #oneshot #st4 #fluff #smut #masterlist #eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair~ Dead-ends & Devotion

Chapter 26: Dead-ends and Devotions

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Major Character Deaths! Violence, Bad language words, mentions of torture, existential/identity crisis.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 3K

A/N: Its been a while since I posted for this story, sorry March is kinda a shitty month for me, and I had to make sure this was perfect before posting it! Including this chapter there are only one and a half chapters left! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Numb.

That wasn’t quite the word Steve would use for how he felt right now. Broken, dismal maybe. Incomplete.

Lost.

In all his years, he’d never seen anything like this, never heard of anything remotely close to this happening in the past. His mind was muddled, foggy, he could barely focus as he, Zemo, Sharron and Natasha, made their way into the main lobby of Stark Tower. 

He was merely going through the motions, there were so many voices and people, he had half the sense to order Sam and Ronin, who had only just arrived, to slip Conquest, whose name they’d learned was Fandral, out the doors and into their vehicle. They would deal with him, on their terms.

He scanned the lobby, catching Tony’s wife, Pepper and one of their men as they received the news. It was truly heartbreaking, she clung to the gurney, the man gently pulling her away, trying to comfort her.

All this chaos, all the death, for what? A goddamn title? Power? He shook his head, there was no amount of power worth all of this.

Scanning the lobby again, his eyes caught a familiar head of white hair dashing out the side door, it had to have been you. He bolted after you, if he could just talk to you, maybe he could convince you to let them handle it; at the very least allow them to help you.

Shoving his way through the crowd and onto the busy sidewalk, he caught another glimpse of your hair in the sea of people, keeping it in his sights, he pushed farther, a paramedic shoved into him, spinning off track, but Steve shoved forward. When he made it to the spot you had been in, you were gone. He cursed, not a single trace of you was left behind. The crowd of people jostled him as he tore his hand through his hair, stepping forward— a scraping crunch met his ears, he jumped back, looking down.

On the ground, covered in blood spatter, a familiar skeletal mask lay broken. He knelt to pick up the pieces, fingers brushing lightly over the white surface, the curves and edges that mimicked bones.

He had to stop you, at least try to reason with you. Reaching for his phone, he dialed you, silently praying you’d pick up on the other end, then, just maybe he could save you.

But as the line rang… 

And rang…

And rang, the hope he held onto disintegrated.

Finally the line died, a deafening silence settled in his heart.

A bone deep chill shuddered through him.

—

Steve leaned back in the hospital recliner, his eyes heavy as he watched over Bucky in the hospital bed, he lay sleeping, his shoulder wrapped in bandages. He had almost lost his best friend, all because he couldn’t see the damn answer staring him in the face. Too much bloodshed, too much death.

The door squeaked open as Steve scrubbed his hands over his face, looking up. Queens hobbled through the door, a bandage wrapped around his thigh, he propped himself against the wall taking a deep breath. He looked like hell, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” 

Queens shrugged, screwing his lips to the side, “Got restless, besides Wade finally left my side.” He smiles softly, “It wasn’t by choice though, his boss pulled him away, otherwise I think he’d still be attached to my hip.”

Steve huffs a laugh, “How’d he find you?”

Queens gave him a sad smile, “Ace, she had found me before…”

Steve nods knowingly. Of course, you cared for Queens like he was your own blood, it only made sense for you to send someone you trusted to take care of him.

“She’s something else…” Queens pauses as Steve meets his gaze, “I mean… Have you ever seen her in action? I don’t even know how to explain it, it's…”

“Mesmerizing?” Steve offers. “Yeah, I’ve sparred with her, she’s… something else.”

Queens nods, a silence settles, after a moment, he breaks the silence again “Have you heard anything?” He asks tentatively.

Steve drops his gaze shaking his head, “No. She’s disappeared, without a trace.”

Queens sighs limping towards Steve, pulling something out of his pocket, he reaches out, placing the small box into Steve’s hand. The black velvet soft in his rough hands, he already knows what it is. Steve inhales deeply, “Thought I lost it…”

Queens gives him a sad smile, “I found it in your penthouse office, buried in rubble… Were you really gonna ask her?”

Steve works his jaw, his chest constricting uncomfortably as he stares at the tiny box, he doesn’t have the heart to open it and look at the ring; what he could have had.

What he will never have.

Bucky coughs, moving to sit-up in the bed, his face screwed up, “Ya never asked her, Punk?”

Steve turns to him, shaking his head, “Never had the chance…”

Bucky reaches for it, plucking it from Steve’s grip, “Don’t worry pal, you’ll get to ask her.”

“I doubt that, she’s gone Buck, even Zemo can’t find her—”

“Steve.” Bucky cuts him off. He turns again, Bucky is staring into the box wide-eyed.

“What is it, Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes flicker between him and Queens, turning the box so he and Queens can see it. Bucky’s voice shakes, “It’s gone.”

—

Your breaths were sharp and ragged as you stumbled through the safe house door, your hand holding your side, desperate to keep your blood inside your body. Thor’s men had been waiting for you, they weren’t his usual help, these men were trained, lethal. Heimdal, the only commander he had left, knew you were coming, they put up a valiant fight, in the end it didn’t matter only one survived. But you had let your guard down, let your anger and emotions get in your head, now you suffered the consequences. 

Settling on the couch, you began the dirty work of patching yourself, the vodka next to you only dulled the pain, clouding your mind. Groaning, you poured the little amount left onto your side. You hissed, teeth clenched from the sting of the alcohol.

A throat cleared in the darkness of your ramshackle safe house, slowly you reach for your pistol, aiming into the darkness, your hand slightly shaking. A chuckle floated in the air,

“Come now Peladora, we both know you’re a shitty shot after you drink.”

Jake.

“I still coulda hit ya, wouldn’t kill ya, but it’d hurt like ’ell.” You relax, placing the gun back where you’d retrieved it. You continue patching yourself as Jake makes his way toward you, kneeling by your side.

A small smile curves his lips, “We have to stop meeting like this Peladora.” Batting your hands away, he takes over patching your wound. 

Wincing you lean back so he can assist you better, “How’d you find me?”

He sighs deeply, eyes lifting to meet yours, “I’m always there when you need me.”

“You won't stop me.”

He can see the determination in your eyes, the wildfire burning bright, “I don’t intend to try. Didn’t try to stop you when we began this journey, why would I now?”

You shrug, breaking eye contact, “Do you regret it?”

His brows raise, “Saving you?”

If he didn’t have a needle in your side you would’ve punched him, you roll your eyes, “No…”

He nods knowingly, “But, I think about it sometimes… What you would have become if I refused to train you.” He cuts the stitching, pulling your shirt down to cover you, “I don’t think it would have prevented anything. I think though you have become something you despise, it was necessary.” His hand brushes your hair from your face, “Do I regret what you have lost? Yes, but the losses would have been far greater without you. Sometimes we must become the villain to do the things that are against the heroes’ code”

“One good deed is not enough to forgive my lifetime of bloodshed. Have you seen the paper? They’ve pinned the blame for everything on the Ace of Spades.”

“Did you expect anything different? Is it not better to have blood spilt from those who desire to harm the innocent than for the innocent to bleed for nothing? Thor would have slaughtered everyone, without you. Zemo’s family, your family, Steve and his men… and anyone else who tried to stand in his way. Besides, did you really think Thor would take the blame?”

It hurts, the truth, the undeniability of the monster you’ve become. You knew deep down a normal life was no longer in the cards for you, but it cut deep nonetheless. You’d known someone would have to be the scapegoat, you figured it would have been Loki, but it only made sense to blame the one who no longer exists. You purse your lips, “Tony’s Death was my own fault, and my family is still dead. Loki didn’t deserve his fate, neither did Peggy, or Tony, or my parents.”

Jake sighs, sitting next to you on the couch, situating you to where your feet are propped on his legs, he nods slowly, “Power can be dangerous, it turns even the best people into rabid dogs. Many lost their lives, most of them didn’t deserve it, but you know better than I, no one's hands are clean in this business. But your niece and sister-in-law will live full lives, without fear of Thor and his men.” he pauses to take a deep breath, his hand patting your ankle, “Peladora, you cannot blame yourself for what happened, you didn’t know how it would end. Even if you did, would you change it? If you could trade Steve’s life for your brother’s, would you?”

You snort, burying his questions. Truth be told, you don’t know if you could make that decision. To choose your brother over Steve, or Steve over your brother. It wasn’t a choice that day, but instinct. You sigh, now wasn’t the time to wallow in self pity or mourn, there was work to be done. “Thor is still alive.”

He turns to you, eyes hard, jaw muscles working, “For now. I have a feeling that will change…” he merely lifts a brow at you, “After all he has no one else to hide behind, his commanders are dead, Heimdall was his last defense.”

You hum and slowly rise to your feet, heading into your makeshift room, Jake follows, watching as you repack your bag, pulling out your clothes and weapons.

He turns to leave, but stops, snapping his fingers, “Oh, I almost forgot” —he pulls a small pouch from his pocket— “Wade wanted me to give this to you, says not to open it until you're done.”

He tosses the pouch to you, catching it, you scowl, “What is it?”

He merely shrugs, “Probably some weird ass good luck charm, you know how Wade is.”

You nod, putting it into your pocket. 

“Was it worth it?” –Jake gives a pointed look to your side- “Did he give Thor up?”

You shake your head, “No, but I have my own ways of finding him.” You pull paperwork from your bag, a list of property and other holdings under Loki’s name. Thor wasn’t dumb enough to use his own property as a hiding place.

He frowns, raising his brow, “I don’t have to tell you he’s dangerous, Peladora.”

“I know.”

“This could be our final goodbye.”

You stop packing, swallow thickly and drop your gaze, “It could be, it could not be… but when I get pulled into the depths of hell, I’m taking him with me.”

—

It had been over a week since Ace had gone missing, the underground uncharacteristically quiet on the topic, Bucky felt bad for Steve.

It was almost like you had died again, but Steve was better at hiding his feelings this time, but Bucky knew better. He stared at Steve from the passenger’s seat, “How you doin pal?”

Steve side-eyed him from the driver’s seat, “Fine, Buck. Why?”

He pursed his lips, glancing back at Peter in the back seat, raising a brow. Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Riiighhhtt… how are you really?”

Bucky watches Steve’s jaw work as he chews his lip, “It sucks. It’s almost worse than when I thought she was dead…” his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, “At least dead, I knew for sure. But now I don’t know if she’s alive or bleeding out somewhere…”

Bucky swallows, twisting his mouth to the side, “You know, I never did apologize to you, Punk…” he sighs as Steve eyes him, “I’m sure she told you her side, how awful I was… But—“

Steve shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it Buck, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But you see, it matters to me. I know everyone thinks I just had a hard-on to kill her, like I was just set on not letting her get away…” he pauses, clenching his shaking fist, “Look, it may have started out like that, it hurt, she betrayed all of us that night we caught her, more so you, but it hurt nonetheless.”

Steve slows the car, parking it at one of their warehouses. Shutting off the ignition, he turns in his seat towards Bucky, he can feel the weight of his stare going in the side of his head. Behind them, he can feel Peter waiting to rebuttal. Bucky didn’t hate you, he hated what you stood for. What you had done. What you were willing to do.

Taking a deep breath he continued, “That night I followed her, picked her up at some gas station… I didn’t intend to kill her.” His heart is roaring in his ears, his palms are slick with sweat, he isn’t sure Steve believes him, but it's the truth. “I had every intention to scare her off, get her to leave, not only you, but the city. Then she opened her damn mouth and I… I—”

He closed his eyes, shoving at the memory as it surfaced in his mind; you sitting bloody and broken in front of him. He could lie and say there was no fear in your eyes, but if he was honest with himself, he saw it. He saw the lie in your eyes, the false bravado you paraded in front of him. When you realized you had pushed him too far, “She threatened you again… Promised to make you beg for her to kill you. Swore she would make me watch…” he looked to Steve, expecting him to be angry, but he wasn’t. Steve was staring at him in understanding, sorrow swimming in his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw again, “I promise, never, not even once did she lead me to believe she loved you… if… if she had, I wouldn’t have—“

He breaks off as the memory of you clawing at the dock skitters across his mind. He knew he had gone too far when he had gotten home, he could feel the guilt and remorse eating away at him. But he had to tell himself it was to keep Steve safe, for his own sanity.

Steve’s hand grasped his shoulder, “I understand, Buck. I know her tactics, the way her brain works… That's how I know I’ll never see her again. The look in her eye when she left to chase Thor, it was a goodbye.” Steve sighs deeply, “Whatever was simmering in her veins beneath the surface, whatever was caged and locked away, held at bay by those four little words. It’s out now, and it's after Thor. She’s not the woman we knew, she’s something else entirely. Something dark and dangerous and it's out for blood.”

—

Peter walked with Steve and Bucky deep in the warehouse, where they were keeping Fandrel or Conquest is what the underground calls him. Ronin had his turn, so did Sam, trying to get Thor’s location and allies from him. So far nothing has worked, and their list of possible leads keeps getting shorter. 

Ace has been cutting through the list of Thor’s people too fast for them to keep up, they have been three steps behind her this entire time. They had found Heimdal and all his security dead last night, and then today multiple buildings on the outskirts of the city were burned down. They need to find Thor or you quick, if they didn’t, Peter feared they would lose you for good.

They came to a stop, whimpers and cursing could be heard on the other side of the door, muffled by the thick metal. Steve took a deep breath, nodding towards the door for Bucky, “Do what you do best Buck, we need that information, now.”

Bucky nods, Peter moves to join him, but Bucky stops him, “Queens. Sit this one out, let me handle this.”

Peter scowls, “What? I can do this Bucky, let me help, I wanna find Ace too.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Not for this kid. I need you out here. This fucker and his friends were the ones who attacked you, I wasn’t able to protect you then, lemme make it up to you now.” Bucky’s eyes met his, his blue eyes so full of pain and anger, he was doing this for him. 

Peter nodded slowly, he understood, he said a silent prayer when the door closed, please, just let us find her…

—

Weeks of recon, months. 

You finally had the bastard, there was nowhere else for him to go.

As you stared into the mirror, the eyes that stared back weren’t ones you recognized. A fire burned so deep and hot within them, you thought they would scorch you with a single glance. You knew it was yourself staring back at you, but you couldn’t recognize yourself and what you had become. 

No mask or contacts this time to hide behind. You wanted Thor to look you in the eye when he took his final breath, to understand and feel what you felt. 

You could almost taste the freedom on your tongue, only hours away.

Only two things left to do.

Kill Thor.

Lose yourself.

—

Finally, finally, they found you, if they beat you they could accomplish two things–

Kill Thor.

Save you.

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @capson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon @trudy-shams

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[eemcintyre]

Let the Games Begin

TW- era-appropriate but questionable attitudes about women and non-American cultures; predatory/mildly stalker-y vibes

Summary- Terry Silver (80s edition™️) is determined to claim the one woman at Dynatox who doesn't appear to be interested in him, and he concocts an elaborate scheme by which to do so.

Alright everyone, we are officially rolling on Part 1 of this series! Hours and days have gone into this, my most involved post to date. I hope everyone has as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🥰🤞🏻 This series will take much longer between posts for obvious reasons, but rest assured that I am working diligently and keep your eyes peeled for the next part!

Terry Silver hadn’t been able to truly focus on his work since the previous autumn; one year ago. What he had done, and was doing at the present moment, had been a lot of delegating and a lot of smoking cigars with his feet propped on his desk.

What had started out as a minor annoyance had mutated into an undeniable obsession, so revolting that he was almost nauseated. As much as he tried to deny it to himself, Terry could feel the situation gradually spiraling out of his control. When she’d started appearing in his dreams a few nights ago, robbing him of even the briefest moment of peace, that’s when he really felt his control and composure starting to slip and knew something drastic needed to be done.

She. Valerie. She who had been hired one year ago to work for Dynatox as a public relations specialist (no easy task these days with the growing environmentalist movement). Who had quickly become one of their hardest and most talented workers; who was polite and quick-witted, and who, although certainly plain-looking in the grand scheme of what the state of California had to offer, had the nerve to be the only woman in the company who wouldn’t give Terry Silver the time of day.

Over her comparatively brief tenure at Dynatox, she’d been pleasantly surprised to work her way up to the top floor. It was a convenient coincidence that this was where Terry’s office was. The proximity had afforded him countless opportunities to drop lines and try to pique her interest, but, every time, he was unceremoniously shut down, whether she politely laughed it off as a joke or regaled him with her very full roster of work tasks.

These interactions left Terry in a state of confused fury. After all, what made her, some nobody public relations rep from nowhere, think she was so special? Where did someone like her get off treating someone like him so ambivalently, when any other woman would consider herself lucky to attract his interest?

She didn’t wear a ring or appear to be dating another man, and for a time, he’d wondered if she was a lesbian. However, after digging into her history, he found that she had once seriously dated a man back home (home being the other side of the country) and casually gone out with a couple of others since arriving in California, but nothing had come of them. So, what was the problem? Tapping into the company grapevine, he found that, rather, her reservations regarding him seemed to be that she was well-aware of- and thoroughly unimpressed by- his playboy reputation.

Terry clenched his jaw as he stared through his open office doorway, a perfect window to Valerie’s desk. Her pretentious round glasses, the fawnlike, coy hazel eyes behind them, and her bland but form-fitting skirt suits all seemed to taunt him. He could have her fired at the snap of his fingers, and he often comforted himself with this knowledge, but it would be far more satisfying to somehow get her in his clutches, make her see what she was missing out on and make her equally obsessed with him. Have her in every conceivable way and ruin her for anyone else- better yet, trick her into falling in love with him- just so he could drop her like she was nothing and put her back in her place.

At this immensely appealing thought, Terry took a lusty puff of his cigar, the smoke hovering over Valerie’s figure before dissipating along its upward path. He’d taken to smoking in his office more and more often- she thought he hadn’t picked up on the way she glared at him every time she detected the scent, but he caught it every time and it gave him an admittedly childish satisfaction. It was just too hilarious how easy it was to get the little thing so riled up, thinking her insignificant opinion mattered at all when he himself was on every fucking Forbes list and the provider of her livelihood.

Her soft laugh floated through the doorway from where she sat at her desk, engaging in a friendly exchange with the person across from her. She was wearing red lipstick today. It was as if she was purposely trying to torment him. Terry watched her raise a teacup to her lips and studied the lipstick stain left behind on the rim with particular attention, wondering what it tasted like.  

If he were to just openly ask her out, she would undoubtably say no. A covert operation would be required. The previous night, over a thoughtful soak in the bath and a glass of whiskey, he’d managed to finally come up with the perfect plan. With just the right amount of basis in reality, it would be cunning enough to fool even her while being a lot of fun along the way for him.

He would ask her to act out a fake relationship with him, the pretense being that he was trying to get back at an exe, as well as temper his wild image for potential investors who were not too enthusiastic about his outrageous lifestyle. To lay a believable amount of groundwork for everyone around them, the ruse would start months in advance- it was early autumn now, and the plan would culminate with the perfect event- the suitably theatrical backdrop of the company’s annual Christmas gala.

The exe would be a real figure from Terry’s past- Alicia Harlow. A fellow high-profile figure in the business realm- specifically the heir to AllNation, the U.S.’s number-one insurance company- they maintained a tenuous acquaintance with each other for the sake of their respective business interests. It was also true that, while she currently spent her time traveling from country to country, Alicia would be spending Christmas in California to visit relatives and recuperate at home for the first time in a few years. Though Terry really hardly cared what Alicia thought of him, secure in the knowledge that the breakup was all her loss, it would be an added bonus to reconnect with her just to show off how well he was doing and make her jealous.  

Not only would this scheme serve to lessen Valerie’s suspicions of ulterior motives toward her, thinking all such motives were directed toward Alicia, but Terry could evoke her sympathy if he really laid it on thick with the pathetic, rejected-lover-with-a hurt-ego act. Show her that he was so much more than the narrow view his reputation regrettably portrayed. Finally, to ensure it would be an offer she couldn’t turn down, he was going to offer to double her holiday bonus. That kind of money would be hard for anyone to refuse- especially someone like her- and to him, it was pocket change anyway.

The process of researching Valerie had gone beyond just her dating history and Terry had also delved into her financial situation. Apparently, her move across the country was all part of some grand plan to prove to herself and her family that she could “make it on her own” and attain the kind of success and renown that she had been told was unreasonable. It made perfect sense why she worked at Dynatox- she was about as ambivalent to the company’s goals as she was to the man who oversaw them, but it was a highly successful company. Her eyes betrayed her hunger to get somewhere, be someone, and there was a good place to do it.

It was such a terribly overdone and insipid trope that Terry would have been disappointed if it wasn’t going to work so well to his benefit. While she was paid well for her work, living in California wasn’t cheap. Apparently, she lived in some shithole apartment that just bordered the rough part of town. Some extra funds would definitely capture her attention and were likely to seal the agreement.

Yes, Terry could work with that. His plan would take a lot of work, but he was no stranger to hard work- he was a stranger, however, to not getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

He summoned her to his office.

~

Valerie had observed Mr. Silver out of the corner of her eye and noted that he’d been reclining, feet on the desk and cigar between his lips, for a solid half hour. While the rest of the floor hummed with activity- and the PR team had been double-timing it lately, managing a situation in the Midwest where protestors were objecting to a new Dynatox plant in their area- he seemed not to have a care in the world.

Therefore, upon receiving a page on the telephone from him, summoning her to his office, Valerie punched the last few letters of the document she was typing abnormally hard. She respected the man as her boss; as someone who had built up a highly successful company that was currently paying her bills. But, beyond that, he exhibited many of the traits that she found to be the most abhorrent, from his short-fused and loud temper to the way he peacocked his wealth and good looks… Yes, she’d be lying to herself if she said his imposing stature, intense topaz-blue eyes and glossy, dark hair weren’t attractive. She could be fair and impartial enough to acknowledge that. But what a waste.

Reaching the end of the sentence she was typing, Valerie took a last sip of tea, as if to prepare herself. Knowing that he had a direct line of sight to her desk all the while, and feeling his eyes on her, she took her sweet time meandering into Mr. Silver’s office.

“Mr. Silver, you wanted to see me?” she inquired, lingering in the doorway. She took in the details of his attire: his white trousers and loose-fitting navy button-up, the gold chain around his neck and the diamond stud in his left ear all reeked of California excess. Not to mention the slicked-back ponytail- Valerie had no idea what he possibly thought he was doing with that stylistic choice. 

“Yes, Ms. Clancy, come in,” he replied, gesturing her forward. “You can shut the door behind you.” The words themselves were a suggestion, but he phrased it like an order.

She coughed pointedly upon entering the cloud of cigar smoke that encircled him.

“Sit down,” he smiled warmly, uncrossing his long legs and resting them under the desk, replacing them with his elbows as he leaned toward her, hands folded.

Valerie sat with her own hands folded in her lap and adjusted her skirt, sitting under his piercing gaze and getting the irrational feeling like he could see through her clothes or something. Trying to maintain eye contact without turning red, she attempted to make their interaction as quick and painless as possible:

“If this is about the Midwest project, I told you that my team and I aren’t going to be able to get it to you any sooner than the end of the week. We’re already working double-time…”

“No, no,” he interjected, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigar into a tray on his desk. “There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

“I… okay?” Utterly mystified, mildly annoyed, and growing a bit concerned, Valerie subconsciously adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She mentally reviewed the tasks she’d completed recently, wondering if she’d unwittingly made some kind of mistake she was about to be reprimanded for.

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” he assured her, his gaze softening as he grinned apologetically. “I have a proposition for you.” Silver suddenly rose from his chair, cigar in hand, and began pacing lazily before her. “Ms. Clancy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Kimura Capital Investments?” he inquired, exhaling a stream of smoke in her direction.

“Of course. They’re the most prestigious investment group outside the States.” Her hands fisted in her lap as she blinked through the smoke. He nodded.

“Well, and keep this under wraps, if you don’t mind- they’ve expressed some interest in Dynatox. The only problem is that, being a Japanese company, they’re a lot more… traditional than what we’re used to. They have a lot of antiquated ideals when it comes to morals and values and all that jazz- plus the board members have it in their heads that I’m unstable; a loose cannon, if you will, and so they aren’t entirely comfortable handing me a bunch of their money. We’ve been courting them for months with everything we’ve got, but no luck yet.” He paused, temporarily setting the cigar down to smolder in the ashtray.

“I also don’t suppose you know a woman by the name of Alicia Harlow?” Though he paced back and forth, his gaze remained steadily on hers.

“No,” she shook her head, proud of herself for how she kept his eye contact unflinchingly. She watched as something not only in his eyes, but his entire expression changed, becoming shadowed. He briefly pursed his lips, glancing toward the floor, and shifted his lower jaw.

“Well, not only is she AllNation Insurance’s heir apparent, but she and I also used to go out. This was a couple of years ago, at this point, but she and I had a pretty messy split. We’ve maintained an acquaintance with each other because it benefits us both for our companies to work together. Of course, since she is an important business partner and she’ll be in town this winter, she is invited to this year’s Christmas gala.”

Silver finally ceased his pacing, leaning over his desk with his hands on the tabletop. He smiled ruefully.

“But it still hurts me to think of her, much less talk to her… this December will be the first time I have to see her in-person since we broke up, and she’s bringing her fiancé… Meanwhile, I think I’ll cut a pretty pathetic figure if I’m there by myself or with one of the random women I could pick up between now and then.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Silver, but I’m just confused what all of this has to do with me.” Valerie felt a headache coming on- whether it was from the smoke, missing valuable work time to listen to whatever point Mr. Silver was trying to make (so much for meeting that deadline), or merely being in his presence at all, she wasn’t sure.

“I guess I should get to that. Of course; you don’t want to hear my sob story,” he acknowledged, chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Valerie, I’d like you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Now, listen, before you say no: it would just be for a couple of months, and it would mean a lot to the company, and to me, for two reasons. First, and most importantly, if I can clean up my image- and being with one reasonably well-adjusted woman consistently for, well, longer than a week, let’s be honest- it would go a long way in the department of making me look more stable and whatever the hell else Kimura is so interested in. Then, the chances of them investing in Dynatox go up exponentially.”

He slid back into his desk chair so that he was close to and directly across from her. “It would be so good for the company and everyone who works here would benefit. Plus, and this would just be an added bonus on top of that, but I would be able to show Alicia that I’m doing well for myself without her and I’ve moved on. The breakup was really tough on me and it was hard to get over her, but I don’t want her to think she destroyed me, y’know?” He toyed with the signet ring on his right hand.

“But… why me, though? I’m sure you know plenty of other women who could do a better job than me.” Valerie eyed him incredulously, eyebrows knitted to a level she had never before reached.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Valerie. You may not be built like a model, but you’re decently attractive, and you’ve got a lot of things that most of the other women I know don’t.”

Valerie had to keep her mouth from falling open at the underhanded compliment, her incredulous look intensifying as Silver continued, seemingly obliviously, onward.

“You work hard at everything you put your mind to, and you’re trustworthy. This would be a challenging project that would require the utmost discretion. You’re also not currently seeing anyone, and besides, you work in public relations- you specialize in bullshit. You put on a show for a living.”

As much as Valerie was stunned, she was also intrigued by this extremely unusual proposal. Even if she was undoubtably going to say no, it didn’t hurt to find out more just to satisfy her curiosity. One thing that bothered her, however, was how did he know that she was single?

Speaking slowly, she asked: “When you say ‘pretend to be your girlfriend,’ what exactly would that entail?”

“Well, it would mean accompanying me to various events, posing in front of the media, and of course, a lot of play-acting on both our parts. I know it’s not in your job description, but I’m willing to make it very worth your while. How does it sound if I double your end-of-year bonus? Does that sound like a pretty sweet deal?”

Valerie was no longer able to keep her mouth from falling open. That kind of money was enough to make her sincerely rethink and consider his offer.

Outlandish and downright unbelievable as it was, the idea of leaving her cramped old apartment and living in an area of town where she didn’t have to constantly look over her shoulder was inviting. And, being able to show that achievement off to her doubtful family and friends back home… Silver wasn’t the only one interested in stirring up some feelings of regret. Still, this would require substantial commitment, in more ways than one. The idea of spending large amounts of time with him, let alone pretending to be affectionate toward him and having people think they were intimate with each other… Silver certainly noticed her face turning red now.

“Mr. Silver, I...”

“It would just be until the Kimura deal is resolved and the Christmas gala is over. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of months. After that, once Kimura is up to their ass in contractual obligations and Ms. Harlow thinks I’m the one that got away, we can easily taper things off and our ‘relationship’ can die a discreet and mysterious death.” His tone was so nonchalant, it was like he was discussing any everyday business deal.

“I… I don’t know…”

“I want you to think about it.” He reached his hand halfway across his desk in a reassuring gesture. “I need an answer soon, but not right away. It’s an odd request, to put it lightly; I’ll admit it.” He chuckled to himself again with a self-conscious smile. “It would be some extra work, of course, and sometimes it might be a little awkward, so if you agree I want you to really have considered it. But just try to think of it as a special work assignment. I would be eternally grateful. Do you think you can get back to me by, say, this time tomorrow?”

“Um… y-yes, sure.” Valerie’s own voice sounded to her ears like it was coming from some other person. She couldn’t believe what she had just said, but comforted herself that all she had agreed to do was think about it, which was the polite thing to do, anyway. She could refuse Silver’s offer tomorrow, letting him believe that she had at least carefully considered it before shooting it down.

“Great,” he replied, flashing his typical bright, expansive smile this time. Rising from his seat again, he guided her to the door as she walked stiffly in its direction. “Well, when you have your answer, just swing back by my office.” He placed one of his large hands on her shoulder, opening his office door with the other. “Thank you so much for your time.”

As she padded back to her desk, Valerie didn’t notice Silver snatch his cigar back out of the ashtray. Reclining back into his chair, legs crossed over the desk once more, he blew a smoke ring after her as she walked away. It was as if he was trying to rope her in with it so he could devour her.

Valerie sat back down at her own desk, her thoughts and everything around her seeming like they were hazed over. All she could think to herself at first was What the absolute hell was that? Who, besides cartoonish movie villains, thinks up a crazy scheme like that? And it would only be crazier for her to accept it.

But then there was, perhaps, the craziest part of all, which was also the most intriguing- the money. And sure, Valerie could understand the importance of getting Kimura to invest in Dynatox. She could also understand even more clearly the desire to prove people wrong and make them regret the things they said about you; Silver’s insecurity had finally humanized the larger-than-life, seemingly all-powerful, and invulnerable figure to her. If it was in fact true, it was hidden behind thick layers of pride, but maybe- just maybe- she had been wrong about him.

But the idea of proving her family and friends back home wrong, and even making them feel proud of her and proud to know her, was tempting. And the same went for those she had met in California- she knew that many of the people around her either looked down on or pitied her with her final-sale clothes and small apartment, while most of them wore the latest fashions and owned their own property. It would be nice to finally be seen as an equal.

Earning that extra money, and the increased security and status that would come with it, could really help her on her way to finally making some kind of mark on the world. If that journey had to start with pretending to be Terry Silver’s girlfriend, well, it could definitely be worse. How bad could it be, really? Mingle at an event here and there, call him “baby,” hold his hand and smile? Maybe have to kiss him a couple of times? If he could somehow keep his mouth shut over the entire next few months, it would really be all too easy.

Silver’s obnoxious personality and the fact that this all seemed too good to be true were what really stood in her way. Double her bonus, just to essentially play pretend for a couple of months? And speaking of pretend, two could play at that game. Where had this previously unseen sensitive and vulnerable side of his come from? She thought she had detected him flirting with her in the past, and for the briefest moment, she entertained the thought that this was all just some bizarre, elaborate plan to get her into bed with him.

But that thought almost immediately evaporated- while he might possibly want her just for the sake of being able to say he’d had her, Valerie doubted that he would go to such lengths to do so. As one of the most successful men in the country, Terry Silver could easily have his pick of the most desirable women out there. It must have to do purely with her other qualifications, like he’d said. The general word on the street must be true- Mr. Silver was just a very strange man.

While Valerie was attempting to parse through all of these lines of thought, her work friends had clustered around her as soon as she sat down. Without even bothering to hide their curiosity and concern, they immediately peppered her with questions about what Mr. Silver wanted and whether anything was wrong- after all, it was highly unusual to be called into his office like that. But Valerie managed to play it cool, eyes either glued to her computer or glancing innocently wide as she reassured them that he merely wanted to check in on the status of their project because it was so important. Having made it clear, by typing all the while, that she wanted to focus on her work, her friends soon lost interest and filtered away to their respective desks. Valerie was relieved it had worked, because, despite the calm and work-focused act, it was hard to concentrate the rest of the day.

Perfect, Terry thought to himself as he observed. She was going to be an even better actress than he’d anticipated.

~

It wasn’t merely at work where Valerie had trouble concentrating. Despite her best efforts, she continued to think about the meeting with Mr. Silver all evening- while she cooked and had dinner, while she showered, and as she fell asleep- she even dreamed about it.

She certainly didn’t enjoy having Terry Silver occupy that much of her mind, but what was worse was how, as the hours went on, the deal began to look more and more tempting. When was an opportunity like this going to come up again? Besides, she thought, it could be fun having some occasions to get dolled up; pretend like she wasn’t single and her life was far more interesting than it really was.

By the end of the following workday, she had made up her mind. In actuality, she had made her decision that morning, but it took most of the day to convince her body to cooperate with her mind and carry her into Silver’s office to tell him.

An hour before business drew to its daily close, the same time as yesterday, Valerie had finally sorted out what she wanted to say to the best of her ability and scrounged up the gumption to enter Silver’s office. She entered without knocking and he looked up, telephone receiver to his ear, briefly glaring daggers until he registered that it was Valerie who had interrupted.

“Yeah. Yeah, listen- I’ll call you back. I said I’ll call you back.” He hung up, his eyes softening and posture relaxing, though inside he was fuming that she’d not only interrupted him but also made him wait this long to give her answer. Nothing like waiting for the last minute. She’s really relishing this, huh? He thought. You think it’s fun to get under my skin, babydoll? You want to make me squirm? Just wait until the tables are turned on you… But he bit all trace of this back, greeting her with merely a welcoming smile.

“Mr. Silver, I’ve made up my mind,” she declared before he had a chance to make even a cursory greeting. She hadn’t meant to burst in quite so unceremoniously, but she had started the luge- there was no getting off the sled now.

“Wonderful, of course, come in,” he replied, gesturing her closer. She closed the door without being asked this time. “Sit down.”

Too concentrated on how to deliver what she was about to say, his words did not register with Valerie and she continued to stand awkwardly.

“Mr. Silver,” she repeated.

“Yes?” he lightly tapped his desk with a pen as it was becoming difficult for him to conceal his impatience.

She drew in a breath. “I understand how significant a deal with Kimura would be for everyone at this company and I don’t want to stand in the way of that- I would like to help if I can. But while I can sympathize with the situation with Ms. Harlow, honestly, your personal life is not really my concern and I’m still a bit confused how I’m the supposed best fit for that role...”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

Valerie couldn’t tell if his tone was meant to be sarcastic or genuine. Either way, she realized that she did not want to show weakness; she needed to appear confident, lest he begin to see things from her point of view as well and change his mind, meaning all of this thought and discussion would be embarrassingly all for nothing. Plus, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. Speaking more forcefully and clasping her hands in front of her, she continued:

“...Like any other assignment, I would be prepared to give it my all and your belief would not be misplaced…”

“Ms. Clancy, I just need a yes or a no.” He said, his face and body language cool and motionless apart from raising his eyebrows.

“Yes. I accept,” she blurted out at last.

Silver’s level expression broke into a wide grin as he exclaimed “Oh, that’s great-”

“-But I have conditions,” she attempted to reel his enthusiasm back in, uncomfortable with how gleeful the news had made him. “I want to be compensated very well. I’m not ashamed to tell you that my main interest in this is for the money.”

Silver’s delighted expression and tone went unbothered by her gravity. He tossed aside the pen that had been clasped triumphantly in his fist. “You’ll get double your bonus, as promised. It’ll be in your bank account the second the last guest leaves the gala.”

“And I want it in writing.”

“Smart woman,” Silver nodded approvingly. “I just so happen to already have a contract drawn up.” He swiveled in his chair, snatching up a paper from the table behind his desk. “It’s basic, but it will do. I’ve already had my secretary notarize it.”

Valerie studied the signature at the bottom of the page that read “Margaret Spencer” in neat cursive. While Silver’s foresight made things efficient, she was irritated that he had assumed she would say yes.

“And we can’t take it too far.” She made her final, perhaps most important demand. “With the public affection.”

“Would you like me to draw up a contract for that, too? Hand-holding acceptable, no heavy petting or kissing with tongue?” He chuckled, meeting her solemn gaze with a mocking glint. She reddened, but did not flinch.

“That won’t be necessary. I just want to set expectations. After all, at the end of the day, I don’t care how much you’re paying me- I’m a businesswoman, not an actress or an escort. There are certain boundaries we can’t cross.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silver assured her, like he was ever the gentleman. Inside, he looked forward to when he would indeed cross every single one.

Terry didn’t appreciate her thinking she could order him around. He kept his outward composure, but he knew that a long and aggressive karate training session was going to be in order when he arrived home that evening.

 “I guess it’s settled, then.” He clapped his hands together. “Good. Now, I believe I made it clear yesterday that time is not on our side here. We’ll have to start planning and preparing this weekend, so you’ll have to cancel any plans. I’ll have a car sent to pick you up and take you to my place Saturday morning.”

“Mr. Silver, you don’t need to do that-” Valerie protested, not wanting to feel like a charity case or to be more obligated to him than she already was.

“-Of course not.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But it’s my pleasure, and it’s easier than giving you directions and getting you through security. Is 10 AM too early?”

“Not at all.” She paused, not sure how to respond to this new barrage of unusual requests and information. “Should I… bring anything?”

He chuckled. “No. But Valerie, you should start calling me Terry.”

“Alright… Terry.” The syllables felt foreign on her tongue, but not entirely repulsive.

“Maybe not around the office,” he added, “In the interest of maintaining some façade of professionalism, but of course, the lines are going to start to blur…”

“Of course,” she nodded, adjusting her glasses.

“I really can’t tell you how thankful I am.” Although she was still standing, he leaned in, voice lowered. “Regardless of whatever your reasons are, you’re helping me out a lot. More than you know.” He paused and they merely held silent eye contact for a moment. He was impressed by how long she returned his stare, but was pleased when she eventually was the first to break the contact and glance uncomfortably at the wall behind him.

“Well, until Saturday. I’ll see you bright and early.”

“Mr. Silver.” She nodded again, this time in farewell, stepping out of his office as suddenly as she had come in.

As she wrapped up her work for the day, Valerie felt weird and inexplicably dirty. She tried to focus on the money and everything she would be able to do with it. She told herself that she was just doing him a favor and being nice. It was just an extra work task. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of what the hell have I done?

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #cobra kai #the karate kid #creative writing #enemies to lovers #fake dating #karate kid fanfiction

[skyfall8600]

Sucked In. Chap 26: Hello Again

Summary: You wake up in the world of Stranger Things before the events of Season 4. Are you able to help in the fight against Vecna, and save the man of your dreams?

Pair: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: sadness, swearing, sad Eddie

Main Eddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 25

Next: Chapter 27

[ 1.8k ] 

Our lovers are reunited. Only 3 chapters left 😭 

As Eddie looked around in his van trying to find a shirt, You were oblivious to how much your life was going to unfold. You were a happy child; growing up with loving parents who adored your every achievement and guided you through every mistake. You were creative; never going without the journal in your hand. In there was a world full of fantasies: daring sword-fights, mythical creatures, warriors and all of your wildest dreams. 

Ever since you could remember, your dreams were always vivid. Your sleeping mind curated near perfect details that stayed with you, long after you always woke up. But there was a downfall to this imagination, as you often received the bad just as much as the good. The nightmares were always the same; flashing green lights, the earth shaking to the core and screams all around you. 

Therapy was no help; if anything it made it worse. Especially when you told your therapist about your rather unique abilities…. Every time the people around you got suspicious or questioned what you may be able to do, your parents wasted no time in up and moving. Most kids wouldn’t be able to cope with moving from state to state, or town to town; but you weren’t like most other children. As long as you had an outlet for your imagination and your parents by your side, you took each move with dignity and wonder. 

This time was no different. Hawkins was a small town, or rather… a quiet town. Originally your parents wanted to go somewhere else, but there was a calling here that you couldn’t explain. Initially your mother refused to go to Hawkins, claiming that there were bad people who would have hurt you there…. But after a few weeks of research, your mother’s nerves seemed to calm down as your father took a road trip to investigate the town for himself. 

They had a discussion amongst themselves, and the rest was history. Before you knew it, your bags were packed and you were scheduling school meetings. 

“Now, we understanding that transitioning in the middle of your senior year is hard, but based on your transcript and willingness to discuss options with your teachers, I think you’ll be able to cope just fine.” Principal Higgins said with a smile. 

“Thank you Sir.” You replied, trying desperately to force a smile on your face. There was something about the man in front of you that you could not stand. 

“You can start classes tomorrow, for now I think it’s best you see your teachers so they can catch you up on what you need to do. Welcome to Hawkins High.” 

Grabbing the paperwork you needed, you practically ran out of his office. The principal gave you the creeps. 

By lunch time you had met up with all your teachers, and you didn’t feel like being ogled by all the students standing around in the cafeteria. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to stop and stare at the fresh meat walking in. And so, you searched for an empty room in one of the many corridors. The room was crowded with costumes and props, obviously the perfect place to hide. 

The commotion out in the corridor, you froze for a moment. Waiting until the students ran passed, you decided to observe the room closely. A large circle table with almost a dozen chairs was placed in the centre of the room, and looking into the far left corner you saw a small keyboard piano. 

Music has always been your escape from reality. Notes and melodies seemed to flow into your head; near complete songs that no one had ever heard off were at the tip of your tongue. It was a natural instinct that you gravitated towards the piano, setting down and letting your fingers brush off the dust on the keys. 

Humming to yourself, the lyrics to the song only you knew clouded your mind. Matching the rhythm to the dance of your fingers against the keys, you simply let the song take over. 

‘I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known’ 

The rest of the world faded away, and you failed to hear the rushed footsteps from outside the room. 

Eddie managed to find a relatively clean shirt from his van, but as he was searching around he realised that he had forgotten his D&D manual in the prop room from the night before. Scared that someone would vandalise or steal it, Eddie ran and practically tripped over his own feet to get to the Drama prop room. He thought he was too late, that someone was already inside the room as he could hear the faint notes of a keyboard. 

But it was only when his hand grabbed the doorknob did he realise what song was playing. A song that was yet to be written but was constantly on his mind. A song that only he and you knew….

He froze; fearful and nervous. “I–it can’t be.” He said to himself, not wanting to give rise to any hope that might come crashing down once that door opened. 

‘I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one, and I walk alone’ 

And there it was, the soft sweet melody of your voice. It sounded exactly like how he remembered it. His knees went weak and his body almost couldn’t keep up with his how fast his mind was moving. He swore he blacked out while his hand opened up the door, his eyes unable to make out anything as his other senses were so focused on listening to you. 

‘I walk alone, I walk alone

I walk alone, I walk a-’ 

Perhaps, Eddie should have waited until he was more mentally alert. Otherwise he wouldn’t have crashed into the drum kit and caused for you to scream, jumping up from your seat. 

“Shit– I’m sorry!” He screamed, struggling to get up to his feet. Once of his feet was submerged into the drum and cymbal crashed into his head. “Ow, fuck–” 

You moved towards him, your heart beating so fast from being startled. “Oh my god– are you okay?” You asked sincerely, watching the curly haired boy stumble and fall over and over. 

Not wanting to embarrass himself any longer, he finally managed to stand and placed his hands on his hips. He couldn’t stop the blush or smile that instantly came on his face when he finally took in your face. Your hair was wild and untamed, so similar to that first time he saw you walk out the shower. 

“Hi–hi.” he breathed out, breathlessly. 

You giggled, returning his smile. “Hi, I’m sorry– i didn’t know someone needed the room, I promise I’ll get going soon— My name’s Y/n.” 

His heart shattered and his face fell the second you introduced yourself, holding out your hand and waiting for him to state his name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know who he was…. Eddie started to think the worst; perhaps on the day when the crystal broke it had opened up his own living hell. 

You raised your eyebrow, unsure why the cute boy in front of you looked so disheartened by hearing your name. 

“Oh– I’m Eddie.” He said, “And you can... um, stay as long as you want. I just came in to get something.” 

You nodded, noticing that something was wrong. “Are you okay?” 

As he stared into your eyes, he remembered the last words you said to him before the crystal shattered. You claimed that you would have loved him in every timeline, in every reality. And he prayed to god it was true; because even though you had no memory of him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to just give up now. You were standing in front of him, alive and safe. Within those few seconds, he became determined that even if you didn’t remember ever loving him, he could live through it all again. He wouldn’t waste the opportunity. 

His face snapped quickly into a half grin, “Yeah, I’m perfect— just wasn’t expecting a pretty girl to be in here.” 

You blushed at his words. Normally you ignored guys who spat out one flirtatious complement after another; but there was something about him that made your whole body short circuit. His dark brown eyes were captivating and almost…. Familiar. The boy, Eddie, had a striking resemblance to the dashing knight that always saved you in your dreams. 

“Nice attempt at being smooth when you still have one foot in the drum kit,” You teased back with a smile. 

His eyes widened with shock as he looked down, “Fuck– we should probably get out of here before they blame it on us, I do not have the money to pay for this.”

“On us?! That was all you– I was over by the piano. Plus, I don’t even start until tomorrow so they can’t blame it on me.” 

The two of you laughed, simultaneously moving together and out of the drama prop room. Away from the crime scene. Another school bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch period. 

“Oh– I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, shyly looking up to meet his gaze. 

He nodded instantly, “I’ll save you a seat, Angel.” 

He stood there, dazed and confused as you walked away. Your figure disappearing down the corridor, you only turned back once to give him a final smile. It was sheer magic hearing you play and sing softly–

“She remembered the song.” He whispered to himself. Smiling, “She remembered the fucking song.” 

In his mind, surely if you remembered something from the other timeline, it meant that there might be a chance that you also remembered him. He would just have to figure out a way to make you remember.

_______________________________________________________________________

Eddie TAGLIST:

@silky-luxe @fentyreligion @littlelunarfox @coconutchumby @eempxth @superflannel @fluffycookies22 @yearwalker96 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @grungegrrrl​@m1rkw00dpr1ncess @dixontardis @buckyslwts @bratckerman @dani-d0rk @musicmoviestv @tomshelbystits @reddisteddie @ungracefularchimedes @santaatemypuppy @cherryrevenger @chipster-21​ @grungegrrrl @azaleaforsure @eddielives1986 @luceneraium @i-always-come-back-xoxo @chipster-21 @i-always-come-back-xoxo

Series Taglist:

@assassinsasha23 @dreamingsmile @introvertedmouse @thegirlwhohides @gobringmemyfood @munchabunch @empty-and-nameless @el1997 @gooblerstan @bigbundabucket @theprettyandthereckless @earthtokace @ifellinlovewithawarsblog @secretsicanthideanymore @blueberryhitosh1 @maryan028 @bakugouswh0r3  @loliakeoghan23 @gamorxa  @stardustworlds @bakugouswh0r3 @taeddybearkim @azaleaitsgreen @eddiemunsonslips @awhoreforeddiemunson @strangerthingsstories5255 @queenotaku23 @sweetberry47 @sammararaven @anothermunsonsimp @megumimind @zephyrs-world ​@thegirlwhohides@lem0nb0iii @whoreforhowl @kaitebugg03 @preciousbabypeter @snapped-chopstick @cutiecusp @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn  @crescent-moon-palace @silky-luxe @resident-gay-bitch @anonymousstoryteller2000 @ches-86 @dreamingsmile @assassinasha23 @introvertedmouse 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fix it fic #sucked in series #skyfall8600

[galexystern]

butterfly wings

chapter four - spring 1985

pairing; steve harrington/reader, eddie munson/reader

rating; T

warnings; fluff, angst, au - canon divergence, made steve a bit more of a player

word count; 2.5k

desc; eddie gets a win and steve gets an intimate moment.

read on ao3 / series masterlist

You barely see Steve for the rest of the semester. He seems to go off the grid a bit, coming in and out of his apartment at odd hours, the sound of his door opening and closing your only clue that he does, in fact, sleep at some point. You're disappointed to not be able to see his pretty face, but Eddie fills the empty space with his, along with his dramatic antics and over-the-top personality. Math class has never been more entertaining.

He continues courting you to be his successor, which is fun to experience but isn't working super well on you. You aren't a huge fan of fantasy and the idea of making a fool out of yourself in front of a bunch of high school boys isn't very appealing. It's different when you're onstage—the bright lights hide your audience's faces.

It's also simultaneously flattering and overwhelming to have all of his attention on you for 45 minutes, 5 days out of the week.

November and December race through without you noticing. The holidays are nice and calm, except for the exciting event of Mark's proposal. He enlists your help in keeping Nina out of the apartment, and getting her nails done, while he gets everything ready. When you return home, the apartment is lit with tons of candles and there are rose petals all over the floor and Mark is already on one knee in the middle of the living room. Nina is completely surprised--she's easy to fool, she never sees anything coming—and says yes before he can even get the question out. She practically tackles him to the ground, planting kisses all over his face as he laughs and holds her close. They only separate when you pop the champagne that was in the fridge, yelling for them to save it for the bedroom and come celebrate with you.

In an effort to avoid being the third wheel to a newly engaged couple stuck inside due to winter, you spend most of your time with Vickie, Jesse, and Hailey. Steve reappears back on the scene, but you don't have much opportunity to see him until school starts back up again.

And then, within a month, you figure out you don't really want to anymore. Because unfortunately, he reverts back King Steve mentality—despite not being king of the school anymore. How does that work? Well, it works like a new girl showing up everyday.

Okay, you don't see it every day. But for enough. You see them jump into Steve's Beemer after school, entering his apartment, leaving it. They're all real pretty. And they always have a knowing smile on their face. As does Steve.

You try not to pay it any mind, focusing on school, drama club, and now the school newspaper—Hailey has recruited you as the arts columnist. That does not include going to any sports games. It does, however, include dropping in on Hellfire club. The first time you show up, you're nervous as hell.

There's loud yelling coming from the same room the drama club meets in. You step in quietly and peer around old set pieces to see a group of guys huddled around a folding table covered in tiny figures and stacks of paper. Eddie is at the head of the table, almost shielded by propped-up folders, hands steepled as he occupies the throne you'd used the previous year doing Hamlet. They're all completely focused on the game.

You listen to them play for a while, understanding every other word and coming up with descriptions for your column. At some point, you become captivated. When there's a build-up to a dice roll, everyone holds their breath as they're thrown and you instinctively lean forward to see the result.

Unfortunately, that also means you lean on an unstable pile of props and knock it to the floor in a loud crash.

All the guys jump, including Eddie, who looks angry at being interrupted. "Who the hell is there?" He shouts, sounding pissed.

You fold in on yourself as you step out of the shadows and into view. Most of the club members look confused, but Eddie's face actually brightens, anger immediately gone and replaced with a dazzling smile. "Angel!" He says, sounding surprised yet happy. "Has my courting finally worked?"

You smile a little. "Not really," you answer. "I'm here for the arts column. Your club is being highlighted this week."

You expect disappointment from Eddie, but he just nods in excitement. "Well, welcome! Please come join us. We'd love to be highlighted."

"We would?" Someone whispers to their neighbor as you round the table.

Eddie has sprung up from the throne and is pulling up a chair next to him. "Take a seat, princess, and watch the magic unfold."

You take the seat gratefully, feeling a little awkward. But Eddie pulls the players back into the game, and you become engrossed again. You're startled when an alarm rings, pointing out it's been an hour. The guys all start packing up but Eddie turns to you. "So? What'd you think?"

"It's fun," you say with a smile. "Very entertaining."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "Anything else?"

You glance away but continue, "And...I like the look of it."

"Ha!" He exclaims in triumph. "I knew I could lure you in!"

In more ways than one, you think.

"So you'll do it? You'll be my successor?" His eyes are filled with so much hope your stomach goes lopsided.

"Yes," you start and Eddie whoops. "But! I don't have time to hang out this semester. It'll have to wait until summer."

Eddie waves a hand. "Pfft. No problem. Plenty of time to learn the ropes." He gathers his things together and you stand, waiting for him so you can leave the building together. "How are you getting home, angel?"

"I have my bike." Nina's car had broken down that morning and she'd had to take yours. Mark had gotten a tow truck there and he's picking it up tonight, but you're stuck on your bike until then.

"In the dark? In the cold? That's no good." Eddie shakes his head to emphasize his point. "Lemme give you and that bike a ride. What do you say?"

"Okay," you say, hopefully not too quickly.

Eddie just gives you a grin and leads you out to the parking lot. You grab your bike and wheel it to his van; he takes it and lays it gently in the back. You both get in and set off. It's a pleasant ride, silences comfortable and conversation easy. It's almost disappointing when he turns into your building's lot and idles in front of the doors. He jumps out and has your bike ready for you by the time you're out.

"Thanks." Your voice is quiet, gentle.

Eddie winks. "Anytime, princess." With that, he gets in and drives away.

And reveals Steve walking across the parking lot towards you, alone.

"Beautiful!" He calls out with a smile. "Was that Eddie Munson dropping you off?"

You nod. "I was observing Hellfire for the newspaper."

"Gotcha." He arrives in front of you. "Here, let me." He shifts his gym bag around to hoist your bike on his shoulder. You open the door for him and let him lead you to the bike room, where he sets it down and you lock it up.

You turn to look at him, flushed. "Thank you."

"Anytime, beautiful." His smile is shining. "Shall we?" He holds out his elbow and you take it with a giggle. He walks you to the elevator and up to your floor, stopping at your door. "You doing anything tonight?"

"Just some homework." You shrug. "Nothing exciting."

He gives you a look you can't read. "You wanna come to mine? Hang out for a bit?"

A few months ago, you would've jumped at the opportunity, said yes immediately. But it's not a few months ago. And Steve's changed.

So you shake your head. "No, thanks. I'm not really that kind of girl."

Steve looks confused but nods anyway. "Alright, beautiful. Have a good night."

"You too." You open your door and give him a small wave before disappearing inside.

;

Life goes on as normal. The semester continues. Knowing his courting has worked, Eddie talks about all of the things he's going to teach you over the summer. You also complain that the bookstore has not put in A/C's yet, so it's sure to be blazing. Unexpectedly, Eddie offers you a job with him at the record shop in the new mall opening in May. You accept—anything is better than sweating all day, and you do love music—and his responding smile makes your stomach flip.

Jesse gets into a prestigious drama camp program for the summer and Hailey promises her aunt and uncle she'd spend the summer with them in Philadelphia. Vickie gets grumpy about it. "I will be visiting you at work every day, or I'll die of boredom," she warns and you laugh.

"I'll be lucky to see you so often," you reply, only half-teasingly.

She gives you a small pinch for your sass.

Nina and Mark are deep into wedding mode, planning wildly. You help out here and there, but they both get a little too crazy for your tastes, so you mostly tune it out. You're in for the dresses, flowers, and band choice, and that's it.

You're leaving the apartment one day, fleeing their argument over invitation fonts, when you walk directly into Steve.

"Sorry!" You gasp but he just laughs.

"We gotta stop running into each other like this," he teases with a smile. You roll your eyes but smile back. "This is for you."

He holds out a piece of paper, which you take to examine. It's a basic invitation to a "End-of-School/Graduation party" he's hosting the next weekend.

"You're sure this is for me?" You ask lightly, only half-joking.

"Of course!" He looks affronted. "I want you to be there, beautiful."

You squint at him but his firm expression doesn't waver. Shrugging, you fold the paper and put it in your pocket. "Then I guess I'll see you there."

"Excellent," he replies happily. You both wave at each other as you part ways.

;

Which is how you find yourself at Steve's party, by yourself, drunk off your ass.

Eddie has already passed through, gifting you a joint that's in your pocket for safe-keeping. Jesse and Hailey have already left town and Vickie's stuck at home, babysitting. You know enough people that you can mingle, but your fallback to awkward moments is to drink, and there are a lot of moments. Eventually, you go searching for the host of the party.

"Steve Harrington."

You sweep into the small kitchen and gracelessly lean against the counter, crossing your arms clumsily. Steve looks at you, amused and obviously so very sober, his hands drying a glass. Once he's done, he places it in a cabinet and closes the door. He dries his hands and then drops the towel on the opposite counter to you. He leans against it, mirroring your pose.

"Beautiful. Having fun?"

"You know me. I'm always having fun," you reply, and attempt to hoist yourself on top of the counter. It doesn't really work and you slide back down, but then Steve is there, and he helps you right yourself.

He places his hands on your waist. "Try again," he says softly, and so you do. This time, he lifts you, and you find yourself looking down at him from your perch on the kitchen counter. "There you go." His voice is soft and he doesn't move away. His hands move from your waist to the countertop on either side of your body.

You clear your throat and glance away. "Congratulations on finally graduating."

"Finally?" He laughs. "I did it in the normal amount of time."

"Whatever," you reply with a wave of your hand. "So what did you--ah, shit."

Steve grows concerned. "What?"

You grimace and frown. "I forgot to get you a gift."

"That's alright, beautiful," Steve reassures with a fond smile. "I don't need--"

"Wait!" You interrupt him. "Here." You dig into your pocket and triumphantly hold up the joint. It's a little crumpled but still intact.

"So generous," he teases.

You scoff in fake-outrage. "Beggars can't be choosers!"

"I'm not begging, though."

"Semantics."

Steve chuckles. "Well, thank you anyway."

"Here." You motion him to lean forward. He does so, and you gently place the joint behind his ear, running your fingers through his hair when you're done. He looks at you with those big brown eyes and you feel like you're drowning in them. You go speechless from the close proximity.

"Can I ask you something?" He asks.

You hum, still without voice.

"What did you mean when you said 'I'm not that kind of girl'?"

Damn, you barely remember saying that. You'd done it without thinking. You stall, hoping to avoid answering. But Steve just waits patiently, so you sigh in defeat. You mean to say something nicer, but with your level of inebriation, what comes out is, "I don't sleep around with players."

"Why not?" A simple, stupid question. A million retorts come to your tongue but you hold them back. You want him to know the truth.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

You lean closer to whisper. "I'm a virgin waiting for love. Ridiculous, huh?"

Steve doesn't reply, but does something infinitely more intimate.

He kisses you.

It catches you by surprise and his lips are nice and soft and it's just the right pressure to make you feel something. You move closer without trying, deepening the kiss, and Steve's hands slide from the counter to your thighs, to your waist. Your hands move of their own accord and glide up his arms to tangle in his hair. When you do that, something in Steve switches, and his hold on you tightens. His hands clutch your waist firmly and he steps forward so your chests are touching. His mouth opens and you feel his tongue touching your lips, begging entrance, and you're about to give it...

But it's not right. It's not how it's supposed to go.

So you don't. Instead, you push him away, turning your head to the side. Steve steps back quickly, releasing his hold on you.

He steps back in just as fast. "Don't go."

"I have to," you choke out.

"I could love you," he replies, and you freeze. But the words are wrong, they sound wrong coming from his mouth.

"I know," you say softly, sadly. "But you're a player, Steve."

He looks at you and you think maybe he'll disagree with you, mention his relationship with Nancy, say it's a phase that you can end. Say you're different.

"They're not mutually exclusive."

Your heart fractures.

"They are to me."

With that, you push him away one last time and jump from the counter. You're a little shaky on your feet, and you feel Steve's hands on you again to keep you from falling, but you gain your composure quickly and walk from the room.

chapter five

#steddie x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #mine

[imbrisvastatio]

12Floors - #11 Mark

Hi, hello, this is going to be a little 12 week series about 1k words each. To be confusing, this is part 2. We are working backwards. 12 people. 12 floors. TW Death. Good luck.

Mark could hear her screams. He had done so much to keep everyone going. To keep everyone ahead of him. But now the chaos spread in a different way. Chain reactions. Nothing in those walls could be left unnoticed- forgotten. The floors were getting brighter and clear. Whatever had chased them before was long gone.

It was hard to be grateful for making it so far. Charlie had begged him. And he listened. But he didn’t feel justified. He didn’t feel like he had helped him. Like he had helped anyone. He felt cruel, the kind that could never wash off of him. He had long forgotten how loud the building was. There was nothing to pull him back, especially as it grew quieter with every floor.

The screaming stopped. That he noticed. That made him move again. But who was waiting for him? Who was up there? What was up there? He walked, trying to save his energy. Trying to listen for the danger that lurked, but all he could hear was the squeak of his shoes. Every step. As if they were newly cleaned. Purposely cleaned to make him loud to everyone before him.

The anxiety clawed at his chest. If something else was there- If he was supposed to be hunted… He took off his shoes. His footsteps had weight and strength behind them. He couldn’t muffle all of the sound. And in his socks, he would need to walk carefully to not slip. But it was better than letting whatever or whoever know he was still there.

He crept quietly. The room was small and the door lead to another room. Then he had more doors to choose from. A door open and a door closed. The doors were heavy and had to be propped open with furniture. The rooms had been with filled with furniture, perhaps for that purpose. Or like it had all been thrown in there for everyone to climb around. To slow them down.

It was difficult to work around it all quietly. Things had been moved or climbed on already, indicated by the marks on the floor. But Mark was bigger than the others that had been before him. His long legs gave an advantage but only just.

Mark made it through a few rooms, through a few doors sometimes taking different ones than the opened ones. The current room was cold and darker than the rest. There was glass on the floor. He moved carefully to not step on it. At the exit door he found them. He didn’t know if the screams had belonged to them- their face was gone. He didn’t know who it was anymore. Anything remotely identifiable had been- eaten? As if the body had been mauled by some sort of beast.

He hadn’t heard anything of the sort. But he knew better than to think that meant anything. He was convinced that there were other ways of getting around in the floors. Something for anything else that lurked in the place. Perhaps they could have used them too. Maybe that could have been a way out for them.

Mark stepped over the body. A silent prayer on his lips. If he lived, he couldn’t even tell their family. And maybe he shouldn’t tell anyone. It was better to not know what had happened there. If he had to recount what fate there had been for Charlie- he couldn’t stomach recounting anything from that building.

He kept moving. He had to keep moving. Step by step. He didn’t know what lurked on the floor with him. He didn’t know what attracted it either. He had some false hope that maybe, just maybe, he was safe. Before he knew certainly. And now afterwards. He needed it. False hope or not, he needed it.

Then he saw it. The source of the screams. He was sure of it. There was a dog over the body. Spencer. Over Spencer. Spencer who had had the key. The key that they hoped would let them out. But now- now there was a beast between him and the door to the stairs. The door to the next floor. To the final floor, if the note could be trusted. He didn’t trust it.

He inched his way closer. Stopping at any sign of the dog possibly knowing that he was there. He looked Spencer’s body over. It took everything in him to not gag. To not vomit on the floor and let the beast know of his presence. But he needed the key. He needed to know if it was still there.

Her open hand was empty. The dog sniffed it and looked up at the door for a moment before returning to his devouring. Mark looked at the door too. Did someone make it? Then he saw it. The bloody hand print on the door. The drops of blood leading to it. Someone was on the 12th floor.

Mark looked back at the body, moving closer and closer to the door. If he was wrong about the key- could he come back? Would the doors open? Would the dog still be there? Waiting for him? But he couldn’t see the key. And if he risked it- it wasn’t worth it. He would rather die at the doors than be mauled.

The dog looked up at him. Growling. Mark was between the dog and the door now. He had a chance. He ran. The dog chased him. But he got the door open and closed it behind him. He had felt the snap of its teeth before the door shut. He sat on the floor, looking back at where he had come from with a sigh. The dog barked at the door, jumping against it.

He had survived. But at such a cost. They may have been already dead, but it gave him no comfort.

#writeblr #writblr #12floors #divider by saradika

[choicesmc]

Series Title: Don't Let This Be the Last Time Book: Laws of Attraction MC: Fiona Lightwood Warnings: Teen and Up Words: 1858

“I’ll be off then,” Gabe said with a brisk nod towards Aislinn. Her reply blurred as he paced past her, turning away from the hospital. New York, at least, had the little sense to quiet itself as he raced towards the office. 

There was much to do now. He’d have to tell Sadie that somehow a masked gunman had broken into McGraw office, stolen crucial evidence, and made off into the night without even the smallest hint to look for him. Even worse, her favorite senior associate did something so him and so stupid that he’s lying in a hospital bed for it. 

Gabe could already imagine the look on her face. A cross between horror and grim acceptance both carefully hidden by a mask of alarmed concern. He tapped on the steering wheel, cursing underneath its breath at typical New York traffic. It would’ve been better to walk, the hospital hadn’t been too far away from the office. 

Not that he could change anything now, Gabe was already on the road. He hadn’t been thinking straight when he jumped in. Even now, with his head rested against the wheel, he wasn’t thinking straight. 

Fiona was bleeding and he’d left him in the hospital. Fiona was hurt and scared and definitely not okay and Gabe had just left him. Gabe didn’t want to see his infallible boyfriend vulnerable while knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to help. Half of him wanted to scream at Fiona. Half of him wanted to cradle him. And he knew if he’d stepped into that room, seen that tired smile Fiona would give him then all of him would want to cry. 

A lump formed in his throat. If he was going to cry anyway, then he should’ve just stayed. He shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed by his side. He should’ve held him close. He should’ve held his hand. He should’ve done more. 

A honk from the car behind forced Gabe out of his spiral. Gabe wasn’t thinking straight. Not that he ever could when it came to Fiona. It was too late to regret it. Firstly, he’d already made his choice, let it not be in vain. Secondly, Aislinn might suspect something if he’d suddenly turned back after rushing out. 

“Tonight I’ll be the bearer of worse and worse news,” Gabe muttered, steeling himself for some difficult conversations. He sent a quick text to the group chat. The mental image of Fiona grumbling as he scrolled through all his missed messages gave Gabe a light laugh, a quick respite in this nightmare.

At night, the office was dark, lonely, and empty. Gabe was all too accustomed to this feeling –he’d often burned candlelight till daylight. But now, that familiar emptiness was stained with malice. Each shadow was darker and deeper than most days. Each step he took reverberated around the empty halls. Occasionally, dim light filtered through slips underneath closed doors, furious typing the only sound behind them. 

It took forever to get to his office. Gabe paused, warily checking both ways before entering. Propping his door open, he took a seat behind his desk. 

He didn’t have to wait long before the senior associates strolled in. He piqued an eyebrow, giving Sadie a nod of acknowledgement. Moving past them, he carefully locked his door, tossing a wary look to his coworkers, “You all may want to take a seat first.” 

“Thank God,” Gigi said, dropping into a seat, her tone light. There was a faint breathlessness to her words, “I knew I shouldn’t have worn heels.” 

Gabe gave her a humorless smile. 

Sadie made an unimpressed sound, barely audible to anyone who wasn’t listening for it. Still, she sat on one of the sofas with Beau and Martin quickly following suit. 

“...Where’s Fiona and Aislinn?” Martin asked. His brows furrowed in concern as he took careful stock around the room, as if it’d just now occurred to him that not everyone was present. He paused, pursing his lips before continuing, his tone oddly somber, “It’s not like either of them to be late.”

Once Martin pointed it out, Gigi let out a tense laugh assured that the pair would be along soon. Beau was silent. Sitting next to his aunt, it was the quietest Gabe had ever seen the man. Even Sadie sat straighter, her eyes flashing a mix of concern and another emotion Gabe couldn’t quite place. 

Cooly meeting their gaze, Gabe tried to remain level-headed, “Aislinn is with Fiona. They’re currently in the hospital.” 

_._. ._._ _._. ._._ _._.

Fiona’s fingers brushed over his bandages. In his other hand was his phone. It felt surreal. Just an hour and a halfish ago, Fiona was unconscious and bleeding. Just about an hour ago, he was almost certain this day would be his last one alive. And now? He was scrolling through the messages he’d received, typing out quick responses to each of them. 

He paused at Gabe’s number. The last text he’d sent was much earlier today. Shaking his head, he pushed aside the wave of disappointment. Then again, this was his company phone. Surely, Gabe would’ve sent something to his other number. Checking his personal phone, the same results stared him in the face: Gabe hadn’t sent Fiona anything. Even Martin had typed out a short ‘get well’ message!

Placing his phone aside, Fiona sighed, was it too much to ask for his boyfriend to send a sweet message when he was literally in the hospital? Running a hand through his hair, Fiona let a mirthless smile cross his lips. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He’d had a brush with death and now his biggest problem was Gabe’s paranoia about their relationship. 

Almost immediately after the thought, the door creaked open. Fiona’s heart caught in his throat. That would be a ridiculous coincidence.  

“Speak of the devil?” He mused, a leisurely smirk resting on his face. Regretting it as soon as Aislinn stepped through the door, her eyes clearly puffy from crying. 

“You should think of yourself,” was Aislinn’s response. She looked like hell. He could see smudges of tear stains running down her cheek. Her lips were red –a tell-tell sign she’d been biting it. 

“Hey,” he softly said, spreading his arms wide for a hug. For the first time, he had to look up at her, “Don’t beat yourself over it. I made my choice.” 

She barely hesitated before engulfing him, gripping him tight as if he’d crumble through her fingers. Patting her back, he comforted her.

“I thought you’d died,” Aislinn cried, voice muffled by Fiona’s shirt. 

“It’d take much more than a couple bullets to keep me down,” he said, a cheeky grin resting on his face. 

“Why would you do that?” she demanded, her tone turning at his cheeky response, “They were armed Fiona! Armed!”

Sheepishly, he stroked her back, “...I didn’t think they’d shoot.” 

Aislinn pulled back, incredulity plain on her face. Her brows furrowed as she repeated Fiona’s words back to him, “You didn’t think an armed intruder would shoot at you. Am I getting that right?” 

It’d sounded a lot better in his head. Shrinking under her gaze, he defended himself, “He didn’t shoot when they came in, so I’d figured they weren’t sent to kill us. Just scare us a little.” 

He could feel her gaze intensify and was almost aware of how ridiculous his reasoning seemed. Fiona looked away, continuing, “And I was right. Neither shot was lethal.”

Shifting in the bed, he fiddled with the bottom of his bandages. Still avoiding Aislinn’s eyes, he let his thoughts wonder. Perhaps it was the painkillers but they didn’t hurt as much as they should’ve. It felt weird knowing the bullets were still in him. Supposedly, it was much more risky attempting to pull them out than just leaving them there. He knew that wasn’t the right answer. He knew Aislinn was looking for a better answer. He knew he couldn’t give her one.

“And?” Aislinn demanded, breaking him out of his chain of thought, “Don’t tell me you risked your life on the chance that maybe the shots you’d get wouldn’t be lethal.” 

It was times like this that made him regret being so right all the time. 

Fiona shrugged, a wistful smile on his face, “That phone was the key to the case. I had to try at least.” He leveled his gaze at her, tone firm, “Marcus deserves that much.”  

“Fiona Lightwood,” Aislinn said, not flinching from his gaze. She placed a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed his shoulder trying, somehow, to press her message into him. All he really did was smile brighter, playing ignorant to her intent. “Marcus doesn’t want you to die for him.”

“I’m in this business to help people, Aislinn,” Fiona said carefully, gently moving her hand from his shoulder, “besides, it’s my duty as a zealous advocate. I want to be able to tell Marcus I did everything possible for him.” 

“He already knows that!” Aislinn yelled, pulling him forward by his shirt, making Fiona wince. Like this he could see Aislinn’s eyes up close. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her lips pursed tight, and her nostrils flared. Her fists clenched the bundled fabric in her hands, each word she spat out, “Fiona don’t kill yourself for a single case!”

“It wasn’t lethal,” Fiona stubbornly replied. Ignoring the increasing bunching of his shirt in her hands. Patting her shoulder, he ignored the tension coiled under her fingers, placing a charming smile on his face, “But I understand, of course. A dead me isn’t helpful at all.” 

Aislinn searched his eyes. Fiona wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She stared for a while, seeming not to find whatever it was. Withdrawing, Aislinn changed topics. Her voice heavy, not free from her earlier passion but resigned to it, “You’re free to go. The doctor said they’d call you in for a checkup at a later date.” 

A frown nearly appeared on his face as he nodded, “Thanks for letting me know.” He offered her a parting wave that she returned half-heartedly. Fiona watched her disappear behind the door, finally letting his charming smile drop from his face. 

“That could’ve gone a lot better,” Fiona said under his breath. He wasn’t even sure what the problem was. He was alive. Yes, he’d lost the phone but clearly that was not what Aislinn had a problem with. Besides that, what else was there to be upset about? 

Smoothing down the front of his shirt, Fiona let out a breath. His eyes lingered on his personal phone. Nothing. Irritation flared in him. 

Fine. If Gabe was going to avoid him then Fiona would go to him instead. And he’d have to face the rest of his coworkers. And decide whether or not he’d tell Marcus. And whether or not he’d tell his parents. A small smile cracked his irritation, a little over two hours from near death and he already had a to-do list. 

He shrugged to himself, the smile still staining his face. “New York moves fast,” he murmured, “Luckily, I am more than happy to keep up.”  

___________________________ haha chapter two took a little work! I love how it came out though! Also the word count doubled 😭 how?! I didn't mean to! I swear! taglist: @dutifullynuttywitch (hope you enjoy 💜)

#laws of attraction #myfic #fiona lightwood #fanfic

[lokiinmediasideblog]

re: that post about Sigyn shippers.

FINALLY someone says it. I know they're not a huge subset of fans in the grand scheme of things but my god I feel the same way. Esp the ones who bash Sylki (and I don't even like that ship personally), and draw comparisons between Sylvie and the Sigyn they made up in their heads. The way a lot of them portray her always just comes off as sort of misogynistic and tradwife-y. I don't have a problem with the ones who ship and let ship + I know they're not all like That ofc.

And they act like the myths and Marvel and the MCU are the same thing when they're all ENTIRELY DIFFERENT! For people that complain so much about how Loki is actually "Larry the clown" now, how the fuck do they not get through their heads that Marvel comics are loose adaptations of the myths and the MCU is a loose adaptation of Marvel comics!?

And yea they veer towards very trad-wifey... like one I blocked constantly goes off about how "Marvel's Sygin actually has a personality, look at her calling Lorelei a slattern and being happy that Amora is being forcefully given to a brutish giant. SO FEISTY." Yeah, cus slut-shaming and wishing harm on another woman is quirky... And obnoxiously ALWAYS ends her posts with some badly drawn Logyn gif and overuses emoticons.

And constantly praising her "noble" act of staying with the man that killed her fiance and tricked her into marriage DESPITE Odin and the rest of Asgard wanting to annull the marriage. Like who the fuck does that? And that's not praise-worthy behavior. She was written by cishet white men in the late 70s and the 80s as a ridiculously waify prop to show how evil Loki was.

But apparently Sylvie, who is dressed for practicality and has a motivation of her own, is the "misogynistic" stereotype and she should have set up aside her mission to fawn over some guy she just met. Series antis complain about the pacing (I do have complaints about that too because 6 episodes is a little too fast), but then act like the appropriate behavior would be for Sylvie to set her motivations aside.

Like I am fine with Marvel Logyn shippers if they don't insist EVERYONE ELSE must follow some very monogamous re-interpretation of Loki and get through their heads the concept of "loosely based". Myth!Loki spent 8 winters as a woman on Earth birthing children! There was also Angrboda. A lot of the norse gods had mistresses, including Thor and Odin...

Last I heard they were throwing fits over Wanda/Loki from Scarlet Witch #8 (Even though it didn't happen in the end :'( ). And some were complaining about the loosely-based high school AU norse mythology Netflix series Ragnarok having Balder/Loki as endgame. Which comes off kinda homophobic too...

#anti logyn #mcu!sylvie #comics!sigyn #marvel comics #hot takes #IStartShit #anon ask

[lurkingshan]

Moonlight Chicken: Final Thoughts

I have really enjoyed watching this show along with everyone. There was so much to dig into and it was a real pleasure to see a BL with such mature themes, nuanced characters, and complex morality. By far my favorite part of this show was the care and attention shown to familial love, especially the complicated relationship between Jim and Li Ming. I love that we got to see them work through their frustration with each other and find some peace, and help Li Ming reestablish a bond with his mother, as well. They both seemed to learn things about themselves and what they really want by working through their conflicts and it was really rewarding to see.

That said, it was not a perfect show for me. @waitmyturtles made the point a week or two ago that some of the story beats and resolutions felt a bit rushed, and ultimately I do agree with that. I think for a show with only 8 episodes aired over 4 weeks, Moonlight Chicken tried to do a little too much. In particular, I thought resolving the conflict with Alan (and steering away from the messiness we expected from the trailer) partway through released a lot of the dramatic tension in the story, leaving us with a slower pace and fragmented focus. My man Gong fully disappeared from the show in the last few eps, and I thought the backstory with Beam was glossed over too quickly in favor of spending time on other things like Gaipa’s mom’s death. I enjoyed all the characters and themes, but I’m not sure it all came together as one cohesive narrative engine.

As for the romances, in the end I did find Heart and Li Ming most compelling. Not just because they were young and sweet and uncomplicated, but because I was deeply touched by Li Ming’s ability to see Heart in a way no one else did and his commitment to finding a way to help him communicate with the world again. Without Li Ming, I’m not sure Heart ever gets through to his parents and repairs those family relationships, or finds a school where he can pursue his education surrounded by his community. No matter what happens in the future for them, that’s the kind of first love that makes both people better and will always be remembered fondly.

Where do I start with Jim and Wen? First of all, I want to note for the record that I am exactly Jim’s age and I relate to him on a number of levels. I too grew up burdened by poverty and responsibility, got burned and became quite cynical about romance, and am wary of ever making myself that vulnerable again. Even still, something about his love story with Wen just never fully clicked in. It might just be that Earth and Mix’s chemistry doesn’t hit for me (I felt the same way about ATOTS) or that I’m still disappointed we didn’t get the messier, sexier version of their story we all thought this was initially. That first episode was the only time I really felt a spark with them, and then the story steered firmly away from that dynamic for the rest of the series. I also thought it was a weird choice to only show them finally consummating their romantic relationship in the end credit sequence. Better late than never but it really should have been part of the main narrative instead of an epilogue.

I am also choosing to believe that Alan and Gaipa don’t become romantically involved because I really dislike the drama trope of the rejected second leads pairing up. Props to the show for giving me plausible deniability on that lol.

This show also cemented for me that First, Khaotung, and Fourth are extremely talented actors who I’ll watch in pretty much anything they decide to do. For how young he is, Fourth is unbelievably impressive and I’m really excited to watch MSP now. First’s ability to produce believable chemistry with just about anyone is wild (part of the issue I had with the main romance is I thought Wen had better chemistry with Alan). And Khaotung’s ability to express so much via his eyes and microexpressions really made his story of unrequited love and grief land for me.

Overall I highly recommend this show and give it a solid 9/10. It was clearly made with such love and care and exuded warmth throughout. I’m sad it’s over so soon!

#moonlight chicken #thai bl #shan shouts into the void