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bloompompom · 9 months

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Safekeeping - Aftermath

the second part to safekeeping | read the first part here

After a proposition to lose your virginity to your brother’s best friend, it becomes difficult to move on once you’re away at college. Difficult for who? That's up for debate.

✧ content: ~9.4k word count. eren jaeger x female reader. modern/college au. upgraded from porn without plot to porn with feelings, older brother's friend trope, reader’s brother has a name, sappy af, mutual pining/getting together, oral sex (m!receiving), PIV sex, spit, praise, pussy job, alcohol use, explicit sexual content, explicit language, reader discretion advised. 18+ only. ✧ a/n: because they deserved a happy ending, didn't they?

You did it. Your first semester of college was officially over.

Actually, it ended roughly two weeks ago when your final grades were uploaded. Now, you were smack in the middle of winter break, left with no responsibilities other than lounging before your family’s fireplace.

You were grateful, and it wasn’t just from the holiday spirit. You were overjoyed—and not to mention, relieved beyond belief—because college was everything you hoped it to be. It wasn’t exactly like the movies, of course, but it was damn near close. You got along well with your roommate, and for once in your life, your professors didn’t hold their grudges toward your brother against you because they didn’t have any.

And it just so happened that you were seeing someone. Something casual, no big deal.

You meant that earnestly. The guy wasn’t much to write home about, and he definitely wasn’t the one. He was just… there.

It was fun, though! It had to be, or else you wouldn’t keep going back to him. You felt a connection right away—it was why you slept with him in the first place—but after your semi-regular hookups, it just sort of fizzled. It was fine. He was fine.

Anyway, he hadn’t tried to reach out since you left, even once. You wanted it to hurt only because it felt like it should, but you couldn’t find it in you. Talking to him sounded less than appealing, if you were being honest. You much preferred to spend the better half of your days catnapping around a house much warmer than your dorm. The only person you bestowed your precious attention on was Hitch, your grade school bestie who was also visiting home. But that was about to change.

After breakfast, your brother Collin came knocking at your bedroom door, creaking it open with just his knuckles.

You peered up from your phone when he asked, “Got any plans later?”

“No,” you replied. He was giving you this weird look. Then he closed the door. “What’s the about?”

“I’m going to a party tonight. Wanna come?”

You looked from side to side because he had to be talking to someone else.

“Don’t be dumb.” He leaned against the wall like he planned to be there for a minute. “You’re old enough now. I’m sure you’ve gone to plenty at school, anyway.”

You weren’t buying into the whole brotherly love schtick. You deadpanned, “Mom and Dad said you have to bring me wherever you’re going, right?”

Collin’s shoulders slumped in that ‘you caught me’ sort of way. “I told them it was an ugly sweater party as a cover-up, and they bought it a little too well—said I have to take you if I want to go. They’re worried about you, all cooped up inside and—”

“Okay, I get it!” You didn’t need to hear that your parents thought you were a loser. There was nothing wrong with wanting some peace and quiet during your vacation.

To really sell the lie, you needed ugly sweaters. Neither of you had thought that far ahead, and you had to go thrifting after your parents began pestering you about it. On the drive to the store, you told Collin he had to pay for yours since he forced you out, and he spent the ride home complaining that he should have simply snuck out and saved the money.

“But then you’d have to cover for me, and I’d have to see your sad, lost-puppy eyes as you stayed in for another night,” he jested. You thumped his forehead.

Hours later, the two of you were back in the same seats. Collin parked the car, and the overhead light cut through the pitch-black neighborhood. He unbuckled, then immediately yanked his knit sweater over his forehead.

“I’m not planning on coming home tonight obviously. I’m staying at Jean’s. What about you?”

“Hitch’s,” you answered, peeling off your own sweater and throwing it into the backseat. “She didn’t want to come, but she offered to give me a ride to her place to stay the night. I doubt I’ll stay long.”

You stepped out of the car together. The doors slammed shut, and the sound echoed off the houses.

“Sounds good. Just be sure to let me know when you leave,” he said.

Collin parked a block or so away. On the walk, you started to overthink things. If Jean would be there, would Eren be there, too? You wanted to say it had been a while since you last thought of him, but that would be another lie you’d have to tally for the night.

“So,” you drawled. “Is Jean going to be here?”

Collin snorted. “Duh. It’s his house.”

He didn’t mention that earlier.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Past your stomach, like it had splat on the pavement.

As fate would have it, you did see him at the party. Eren. Not immediately, but it might as well have been.

You had only drunk roughly three-quarters of a beer when you saw Eren, and it wasn’t nearly enough to dull the weird twirly feeling pitting in your stomach. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was a confusing one, that was for sure.

It wasn’t that you regretted what you had done, not in the slightest, but that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to see him. How couldn’t you be? This was the first time you’d been in the same room since you had naively bared it all for him, looking about as pathetic in bed as a newborn faun taking its first steps.

At the very least, you expected to see Eren the morning after—you actually dreaded it. You stayed in your bed, laid on pins and needles, staring at your ceiling until you could no longer. And even then, the basement remained silent.

They eventually emerged from their hibernations once the afternoon rolled around. Eren was nowhere to be found, as if he was suddenly the earlier riser of the group. You supposed it was less awkward this way.

In that emotional cauldron you were brewing, the one that was close to boiling over, you felt a dash of jealousy. It was strange and unexpected, but now that you saw Eren cozied up with some girl, her legs draped over his lap… the feeling was certainly there.

You hated it. Especially after your eyes lingered for too long, resulting in very brief, very fleeting eye contact between you. It was over and done with so fast that you didn’t even get a good look at his face. Was he surprised? Indifferent? It was only a guess at this point. But you—well, you made it entirely clear that you were avoiding him, what with the speedy way you spun on your heels to flee. It was a dead giveaway as to how you were feeling, whatever it was.

You tossed back the rest of your beer, then went scouring for what was next. Your best bet was what appeared to be a thrown-together hot chocolate bar. Not the best option but certainly not the worst. The slow cooker, still halfway full, sat warming on the counter. Surrounding it were loose bottles of cream liquors and peppermint schnapps, torn-open bags of marshmallows, and whipped cream if you were feeling fancy. Very on-theme for tonight’s holiday party.

In an attempt to look busy—keep your gaze low, hands moving—you headed that direction.

You fiddled with a stack of styrofoam cups and pretended you weren’t overwhelmingly flustered by this unbeknownst feeling. You didn’t do a great job at it. Or at least, Eren didn’t think so. And unlike you, he had already come to terms with his feelings, but only because it had hit him more or less like a freight train.

So let’s go ahead and recap what the last semester was like for Eren, shall we?

Becoming a third-year freed Eren from the required dormitories and roommates. He spent the tail end of his summer moving into an off-campus apartment. It wasn’t much—exactly what one would imagine when asked to envision an apartment with a down payment suited for a student’s budget. One-bedroom, one-bathroom, but it was all to himself.

No different than any other twenty-something, Eren was excited to be on his own. He could see it already: no one to answer to, no one to schedule his life around. And definitely no weird-ass habits he’d have to deal with from a roommate—one he, to this day, couldn’t believe he matched with based on the school’s dumb quiz. He just had to wait out the summer until his lease began, and then his life would officially start.

The vision derailed, of course, just two weeks before he was handed the keys to his (self-proclaimed) bachelor pad. The reason? It was easy enough to guess.

Eren could deny it as much as he wanted, but it wouldn’t change that after fantasizing about his friend’s little sister for days, he selfishly prioritized his needs over his friendship and took her virginity. And in a cruel turn of events, he wound up with feelings for her. It seemed a bit like karma, didn’t it?

From the very second his eyes snapped open the next morning, he convinced himself it was nothing more than a hot dream—albeit one that left him rattled. But when he ambled upstairs, he found his half-drunk glass of water, untouched, exactly where he recalled leaving it.

Days passed, and Eren waited for that dreadful pang of remorse to smack him upside the head for what he had done—what the two of you chose to do together. It never came. Somehow, that felt so much worse.

Now, he had a secret large enough that if it came to light, he’d end up with a black eye from his best friend. Not that it wouldn’t be well-deserved. Even he could acknowledge that. But he was far from guilt-ridden over it. The only thing he regretted was that he hadn’t spoken to you since. He never talked to you much to begin with—he didn’t even have your phone number—so it’d be weird of him to start now, right?

Eren didn’t know what was the right thing to do, so he defaulted to doing nothing. It didn’t feel like there was any right option, like he had already made too many wrongs to turn back now.

His worst offense? To him, it was that he still thought of you when he was, for lack of better words, alone. But that was the only time!

That was how he justified it: he’d only allow his memories of you, though painfully limited, to seep to the forefront then and only then. It was a half-assed boundary at most, Eren knew as much, and it was so wrong of him. You trusted him, you told him that yourself, and here he was, shamefully fucking his fist to nothing more than a mirage because that was all you had left him.

He’d think of your sweet sounds. Those little, fluttering breaths would escape you as a shiver no matter where he touched you. Sensitive and soft and warm beneath his palms, he’d replay the moment you first tried to take him on your own. Lowering yourself onto him, Eren could see you shifting your hips as you learned how to take him, all of him, best. Past lulled and heavy eyelids, you were intent on getting yourself off, no matter what it took. And when you got there—fuck, he wished he could see it again. He wanted to feel it again, something his hand could never replicate.

After, you never went away. That was when Eren knew he was in trouble. When you were no longer a perverted fantasy but still at his side when he’d close his eyes. No longer fucking but basking in the afterglow of it together. Your arm slung around his waist, your balmy cheek resting against his chest. Tangled sheets, kisses pressed to your forehead, bodies sheened and sticky with sweat—all of it.

This went much deeper than merely offering a helping hand to someone in need before she left for college. Eren did the favor of scratching your back, but what you didn’t realize was that you had scratched his, too. The one itch he couldn’t reach. He still bore the scars of it.

You had him in a chokehold, and you didn’t even know it. A very, very complicated chokehold at that. Eren couldn’t believe he had caught feelings for you, his best friend’s little sister! But now he was peeking at—no, who was he kidding? He was religiously checking your Instagram stories.

By the look of it, there was finally some action in that love life of yours. You were never explicit about it, sharing no more than a picture of his hand on your thigh or a strategically-snapped photo of your cocktail with the mystery man’s face reduced to a background blur. The subtle art of a soft launch. It told Eren enough.

So when he noticed how your eyes sprung to the size of saucers when you saw him across the party, he was intrigued. Eren didn’t know when he’d bump into you next, but he often wondered how you’d react. And when you scurried off like a mouse, excitement sparked within him, even if it was at your expense. He needed to know then if you still thought about him—what he did to you, and you to him—despite being with someone else.

He quickly decided there wasn’t any harm in approaching you to say—

“Hey.”

Eren interrupted you just as you attempted to serve yourself hot cocoa. You nearly dropped the ladle when you heard his voice over your shoulder.

You faltered as you piped back a ‘hi’ but smiled through it only because you realized he came looking for you.

“Need some help?” He offered you a smile laced with pity. You followed his eyes to find yourself pouring hot chocolate onto your wrist. You didn’t feel the string of it until then.

You cursed but thanked him when he took your cup. Since it was apparent you needed his help, Eren started making your drink as you searched for some paper towels.

“What alcohol didya want?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” you admitted, nodding toward cocoa-coated hands. “Clearly.”

His mouth curled up at that but nothing more. He didn’t leave any time for your embarrassment to simmer before he replied, “Then I’ll fix you what I made myself.

By the time you were dry and the remnants of your mess were forgotten in the trash can, Eren had mixed your drink and extended it to you. You thanked him for it and took a sip. It was sweet on the tip of your tongue, enough to comfort the burn of liquor that tickled from your throat and down your stomach.

You smiled at him, the kind that made your eyes crinkle. “Cream and peppermint liquor. Good choice.”

“I thought so,” Eren beamed briefly before adding, “Oh—almost forgot.”

He reached for the can of whipped cream, locking his eyes to yours as he angled the nozzle toward your face.

“Open up.”

His smirk was like a wordless language that only you understood. He told you he remembered it—in fact, he even still thought about it—and he wanted to know if you did, too.

You opened your mouth.

A laugh bubbled through you before the cream even met your tongue. Eren’s laugh joined yours when half made it into your mouth. The rest landed on the corner of your lips, daring to spill down your chin. After you thumbed it into your mouth, Eren surprised you by dotting your nose with it, too.

You weren’t stupid; you knew how this looked because it was exactly as it appeared. The action toed the border between playfulness and something more—something that wasn’t entirely uncharted, given your history, but just as forbidden. You would have cared more if anyone was paying you any mind. And if someone important—Collin, Jean… hopefully the list ended there—were to see, you were convinced you could wisely play it off as a joke.

You never expected your next run-in with Eren to go like this. You hoped for it, the shameless flirting, but it was more likely that he’d avoid you like the plague. You convinced yourself of it. You moved on from that ephemeral night, began to see other people, and let your dead-end crush fade away.

No, you didn’t expect this at all. And even if you had, you wouldn’t have imagined it quite like this, with every fiber of your being tightened and set ablaze. And when you laid a hand on Eren’s arm, catching yourself in a fit of giggles, it tightened in reflex, like he felt the burning, too.

You hurdled through the pleasantries even though they weren’t necessary, considering Eren had sex with you off little more than a single conversation last time. In an act of modesty, you were sure, he didn’t directly ask if you were single but instead teased you about Fabio again—asked if you had met anyone that compared.

You hadn’t. The guy you were ‘dating’ was far from your dream man, even to the extent that you had already considered how you’d end it when—if you ever heard from him again.

But Eren didn’t need to know that. You rolled your eyes at the lame joke, offhandedly saying, “I’m sort of seeing someone.”

It piqued his interest, discernible by his raised brow. Either that, or he saw right through you. He leaned into you, close. You wanted to check if Collin was near, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“Oh, yeah?” He tilted his head and repeated, “‘Sort of.’ What does that mean?”

You sensed he wanted you to spell it out for him, the dirty details of it, but you hummed, “You know, hookups, the occasional dinner—not exclusive.”

Whether or not he detected the hint at the end, your answer didn’t seem to suffice. “Is that what you want?”

You swirled your drink, took another sip, and suppressed your shiver. “I’m still figuring out what I want.”

The next thing you knew, Eren had snuck you upstairs. For obvious reasons, you had never been to Jean’s house; you had not a clue whose bedroom Eren had chosen for the two of you. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t distinguish much under the tawny lights strung around the room, but that was far from your first priority. What mattered more was that no one saw you slip away with Eren. It was no big deal that you were about to have sex with your brother’s best friend on their other best friend’s bed, right?

Fuck it. Quite literally.

You shoved the thought to the back of your head much like the way Eren shoved you against the door as he kissed you. He kept one hand cupped around your face and used his other to lock the door behind you. The moment the click of it hit your ears, he pushed a hand between your legs.

You weren’t going to talk about it, the rather large elephant lurking in the room. That Eren offered to take your virginity much like a business proposition, and you agreed to sex that was supposed to feel just as transactional. But the reality of it was that you hadn’t stopped thinking about that night ever since. Neither of you had, so you’d go on and pretend like it never ended.

He palmed over the crotch of your jeans, teasing you before reaching for their button. You indirectly made him work for him, keeping him close with your arms looped around his neck—close enough that your noses were smushed together.

Eren struggled with the zipper next, less focused on it and more distracted by your teeth, gently tugging on his bottom lip. He groaned, and it spilled into your mouth like honey.

You broke the kiss, hands flinging to your sides to slip from your jeans. You bent at the waist, eyes fixed up at Eren, as you wiggled them down your legs. Noting the deep rise and fall of his shoulders, you felt a similar stutter in your own.

He confessed he didn’t have a condom. You told him you were on birth control now, and that was enough for you both to continue—so long as he pulled out, you reminded. He agreed by hooking your leg around his waist. You swung the other to match, locking your ankles against his lower back, and let him carry you to the bed.

Eren navigated to the bed with suspicious ease. He walked backward, lips still on yours, like he knew the room’s layout and where the bed was. You wanted to wince at the realization—that the likelihood this bedroom belonged to Jean had skyrocketed—but you forgot it just as fast when Eren sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling you down with him.

You straddled his lap with hands on either side of his face, your tongue in his mouth and against his own. He still tasted like peppermint schnapps. Burned like it, too.

He rucked up your shirt as his hands smoothed along your back. You’d think his fingers were made of matches, scorching trails whenever they roamed. You gasped when he dared low enough to grab your ass, pinching at the fat of it. Your thin underwear bunched in his grasp, dragging along your skin with him.

Eren pinned you to him, working you over the front of his jeans. Back and forth, your hips on a swivel, he used you to get himself hard, only stopping to smear his palms on his jeans when you’d start to slip from his grasp. It didn’t take long before you felt him, stiff and nicely pressed between your legs.

When you started to grind against him, demandingly and all on your own, the kiss went sloppy. Though the plush of your lips brushed together, it was less like making out and more like swapping breaths. Like a warm fog swirling around you, you grew dizzy off it. Eventually, one of you would have to come up for air.

You pulled away right as he sat back. You’d call it harmonious, but that would make it sound graceful. Each of you fumbled to get your shirt over your head, and it cascaded into a tangle of limbs and clumsy laughs. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt next. You’d hate to be the only one in your underwear.

You didn’t see them but felt the tight muscles of his chest. They didn’t give under your touch, even as you flattened a hand against him. He picked up on the hint, that you wanted him to lay back, and you moved together. He pushed himself further back on the bed, you following in a feline-like prowl above him, until he rested against the pillows.

It was a new side to you—at least, one that Eren hadn’t seen yet—and he already craved more. You were no longer shy, not in the way he remembered, but entirely disinhibited with this, dare Eren say, beyond turned-on look on your face. Glassy eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and the cherry on top: that devilish smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

He could only gawk as you pressed your smile to his sternum, then a bit lower. Then even lower than that. Your lips skimmed over the smooth skin of his hip bone, tickling him, smacking him with the realization of how dangerously low you were. Every muscle in his body tightened, his cock throbbing to be touched.

Only a tad bit desperate—he’d call it enthusiasm—Eren snaked his hand down to undo his belt. Once it was off, you helped him out of his jeans, working them and his boxers down his legs. You settled between.

Eren was so kind to you the first time, so exceedingly gentle; the least you could do was give him the chance to see what you’d learned since.

You placed a hand on the top of his thigh. Already, it flexed. You slid it higher, merely palming over his cock at your leisure—not his. He chewed on his inner lip in anticipation, fighting the impulse to rut against your hand. He wasn’t prepared to look that pathetic, even if he felt that way watching you wet your lips. He knew what was coming next, and if he had any air in his lungs, he would have whined at the sight.

When you finally brought your mouth to the tip of his cock, he sucked in a breath. That was all it took, just a swipe of your tongue; you didn’t even have to take him past your lips. Wanting to pull another noise from him, you did it a second time, licking him from base to tip, agonizingly slow.

You knew what he wanted. You could see it plainly on his face: Just put it in your mouth already! Anything, please! But instead of flinging a hand to the back of your head, he gripped the sheets. He let you tease him despite that it wasn’t the time or place for it. Outside the door, there was far-off music. It was indistinct, buzzing behind heavy footsteps and creaking floorboards and laughter—the usual party rumblings. It was as ambient to Eren as white noise, no greater than a low drone. He could only concentrate on suppressing his desire to ruin you—as if he hadn’t done so already. But before he could do that, you needed to show him how much you could take.

So you did just that. Inch by inch.

Eren’s abdominals clenched as more of him disappeared past your lips. Your mouth, wet and oh-so warm, was tight. Intentionally so as you wrapped your lips around him with hollowed cheeks. You found a comfortable, steady pace, bobbing your head over his length. You only paused to gather your saliva, allowing it to pool behind your front teeth. Unabashedly, Eren watched.

It was a sight so incredibly pornographic yet one he found undeniably adorable. Your little expressions had him smitten—how you pursed and puckered your lips before finally spitting. It dribbled from your bottom lip in a lewd string connecting you to him. You let out an uncomfortable giggle, then snapped it with a swipe of your thumb.

He’d say you officially had him wrapped around your pinky finger now—as if he hadn’t been pretending that wasn’t already the case for months.

Up and down, your hand spread the saliva over his length with little resistance. After a moment, you returned your mouth to him, and the little rasp of a moan he let slip caught your attention. Through tear-damp lashes, you found his eyes keen on you, his jaw slightly slack in what you’d only describe as awe.

The buttery lights warmed the side of his face, glinting like fire behind his eyes. You studied every part of his face, from the twitch of his brow when you’d lap your tongue along the underside of his shaft to how his nose would scrunch when you’d swirl around the tip. You wanted to learn exactly what made him feel good so you could do it over and over again, as he had with you.

Eren wrestled himself on whether he should let you continue or not. He didn’t want to stop you, dutifully attempting to take all of him without choking, it was just that he had a better idea in mind.

He sat up enough to guide you to his side with both hands. You could tell he was trying to be smug, but his voice sounded taken as he told you, “Looks like whoever you were with must have been a real amateur.”

Eren had you perpendicular to him now but still bent over so you could keep on as you were.

“Or just selfish,” he added. His hand stroked down your spine and over the curve of your ass. He reached between your legs and pushed your panties aside to make room for him. “Because this way, I can touch you, too.”

You moaned when his fingers traced over your slit. He used the pads of them to circle your clit and didn’t falter even as you wiggled back against his hand. With his free hand, he cupped your face, gently encouraging you to pick up from where you had left off. You were more than willing.

He dipped a finger inside you. On impulse, he jerked deeper into your throat when he felt you flutter around the intrusion, as if he could feel it in his cock. Every whimper he’d coax from you sounded even sweeter when muffled.

“Not to mention, he must be a fucking idiot to miss out on this.” Eren’s voice was a murmur up until the end. Then it was a hiss. “Because I bet you look real pretty coming with your mouth full.”

He spoke to you softly, the timbre of his voice a warm hum, yet his confidence was palpable. The back of your neck burned.

Though you clung to it like a shield, your strength began to waver. It was evident by the quiver in your thighs every time he’d slip from you, fingers dripping, to play with your clit. Every time, you followed it with another strangled whimper. Each was like a gift to Eren.

He had brought you to the brink of becoming undone. All the while, he watched contently, head drooped to his shoulder and everything. He felt the tiny huffs from your nose fan over his pelvis as you sputtered around his cock. Your arm would wobble, elbow threatening to give out, as you struggled to focus on him and your orgasm, impending and fogging your senses. You had forgotten how wonderful another person could make you feel, and this was just his fingers.

Eren was a bit of an anomaly; it only took you a few encounters to conclude such. Not everyone was talented with their fingers or their tongues or their—the list could go on, really. But it was more than deftness alone. Eren actually wanted to make you come, and by the look of it, he was just as needy for it as you were. And you were right there, the heat of it winding in your stomach until your entire being gained a pulse of its own.

You came with Eren’s cock in your mouth. It overtook you in a glow, burning you from the inside out in a series of little explosions. You dug your nails into his thigh. Your other hand, though shaky, was still around the base of him. You were hardly conscious of how you squeezed him, but he didn’t even feel it. He was more enraptured by the way your throat tightened around him as you choked through your orgasm.

Past the thick thrumming in your ears, you heard how much Eren enjoyed that lovely little mouth of yours—how much he enjoyed using it.

Thunder emitted low from his chest as he rolled his hips, meeting you halfway to ensure every bow of your head was punctuated by another squeak of the mattress and his tip bumped against the back of your throat. He was as delicate as could be while fucking your mouth, yet tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. They welled up and threatened to drip down your cheek, teasing him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It tumbled from Eren’s mouth in a ragged chant. His head was thrown back into the stack of pillows, but he fought to steal a glimpse of you before your knees buckled beneath you. “Look at you. You’re fucking perfect.”

Your heart skipped.

You liked that you were the reason for his pleasure—the reason his cheeks bore a flush, and why he could no longer hold himself back. Seconds ago, you had set a scene just as vulgar, helplessly grinding against his hand in a chase for your own high. And now that he was just as swept up in it, he could no longer pretend he had dreamt only of fucking you gently.

There was no way Eren could finish before he had the chance to get started. He regrettably pulled out from your mouth with a spitty pop.

You were still panting when you traded positions. Eren laid you back on the bed, gazing down to trace over the features of your face. He petted the side of it when he said, “You did so good.”

He kissed every spot he touched. Your cheekbone, the lobe of your ear, then the dip below it. You felt each one at the base of your spine.

“Talk to me.” Eren nuzzled the words in the nook of your jaw, breathed them over your skin, sensitive and already tacky from your swelter. His tongue and teeth grazed down the column of your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

There wasn’t any air behind your voice, nothing to carry it when you tried to reply, “Take off my underwear. Please.”

You went to raise your hips for him, but your legs had long turned to mush. There was an unmistakable tremble to them as Eren shimmied off your underwear. You placed a leg on either side of him, spreading yourself and welcoming him between. His eyes, alert as a hawk’s, widened before falling exactly where one would predict. Then he swallowed hard.

He was faced with the task of taking all of you in, as if it were even possible. You followed the tips of his fingers as he trailed them up your curves with a butterfly’s touch. He toyed with the strap of your bra, now wilted off your shoulder and dangling at your arms. With a quick tug, he had your breasts popped over the cups.

Eren licked his lips. “God, you’re—”

He eagerly crashed to your chest, right between your tits. He didn’t intend to cut himself off, but he decided it was probably for the best; he wasn’t sure what he was about to spout out, anyway.

You were just as sensitive as he remembered, unable to keep still as his large hands squeezed at your breasts, kissing and nipping and licking every inch of the delicate skin. When his mouth was latched to one, flicking his tongue at your perked nipple, he’d continue playing with the other, rolling his thumb over it.

As though you could possibly drift away, you anchored yourself to Eren. You raked a hand through his hair, fingering through the lank strands that escaped his tie and hung loose. Before you could screw it up any further, you flinched when you heard voices booming on the other side of the wall. Your entire body froze as you glanced over to the door.

Either Eren didn’t hear it or if he was only pretending he didn’t. His hold on you was steadfast as he covered your body in kisses—that is, until the handle jiggled. He tore away then to follow your line of sight.

You waited for something to happen. Anything. Like the knob to rattle again, or a pound that would shake the door. Maybe someone would kick it down—you didn’t know! But the only sound between you was the thumping of your heartbeat against Eren’s.

Whoever it was, they must have wanted the room for the very same reason you and Eren did because, after a minute passed, you believed they had left. The groan of the floorboards grew distant as another hot and bothered pair continued their search for a vacancy.

You brought Eren back to you by lightly taking him by the forearm. You were unable to wrap your fingers around the entirety of it but managed to pull him in, anyway. At the same time, you dug your heels into the mattress and scooted closer to him.

“I want you,” you quietly confessed. You lifted your hips, angling them in an attempt to meet his cock.

Eren needed to convince himself this was real—that you were real. You hardly gave him the time to before you hitched a leg around his waist. He collapsed over you, caging you between his forearms. His eyes had darkened, brows sitting lowly above them in that drunken, determined look of lust.

He kissed you. The corner of your mouth first, then fully on your lips. Between your legs, you felt him brush against you, throbbing. His tongue parted your lips, slipping past them the moment he pushed inside you.

It stole your breath. Though your mouth was agape, a tiny ‘o’ against his, not a sound left you. He slipped out of you, then filled you again. Your breath returned in the form of a moan. He did this a few more times, deeper with each tilt of his hips, fucking you languidly, just to see if you could take it before he bottomed out.

Eren straightened out. “You okay?”

You gazed up at him and watched his lips curve into a soft smile when you whispered, “More than.”

Then you watched it melt away once you wiggled against him, encouraging him, asking for—no, taking more of him. As though he had been waiting on you, he finally pushed deeper until he was flush against you.

You realized Eren’s composure was an act because it much snapped like a rubber band. You caught his inhale, through his nose and sharp in your ear. His head dropped on his exhale, and you felt it vibrate through you. He thrust into you a few more times, adjusting to you, while tiny grunts played at your ears.

Keeping in mind your whereabouts, you expected this to be a quickie. But before you knew it, you were having the type of sex that wasn’t meant for a friend’s bed. It became pounding hips, so intense—so fucking good—that you heard Eren’s hand hit the headboard with a smack, gripping the top of it for support. It was erratic kisses. Ones that were messy and missed but would catch another part of the face, like the bow of your lip or dip in his chin; gasping and stealing damp breaths from one another in a bedroom growing headier by the second.

Lest he wished to come now and completely ruin everything, Eren had to pump the breaks. He sat back onto his calves and shoved a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his face. His chest looked heavy, yet his arms remained sturdy as he cradled your hips. He fucked you slowly, mesmerized by the sight of him burying inside you—how well you took him—again and again.

Flustered, you tried to remember how to breathe, but Eren made it difficult with his lazy eyes and an even lazier smile.

You felt your whole body react when he placed a hand at the base of your neck. You were silk beneath his touch, from the dip between your chest, down to your navel. He traced along the side of your body and the swells of your breasts, then repeated it.

Eren had known you for years, but he didn’t know you—not like that. But he knew enough to say he liked you. And he was sure he’d only grow to like you more—a lot more.

He couldn’t wait to get there, to know everything there was to learn about you. Your birthday, your favorite food, what you liked to do on a rainy day—hell, he wanted to know what superpower you’d choose if presented with the option. He wanted every detail of it, and that had to mean something.

Eren grabbed your hand. He held it against his face and kissed the inside of your wrist.

“You’re so soft,” he told you, voice pitched low and spoken into your skin.

The only coherent thought you had was how desperately you needed him again. You yanked him forward until his mouth was back on yours, where it belonged. Taking your open mouth as an invitation, he sucked your tongue lightly. You felt a frisson of heat beneath your skin, but it prickled like a chill.

“Eren. More,” you pleaded, your voice lost somewhere in his mouth.

You twisted beneath him. Eren pulled out and watched as you rolled to your stomach, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. You could only glimpse over your shoulder, but it was enough to see that his eyes were trained on you.

Suddenly hot under his gaze, you rushed to add, “Only if you want to.”

Whether it was intentional or Eren was just seeing things, he swore you arched your back as you said it, ass in the air like it was an offering.

Of course he wanted to. He wanted to so badly that he nearly couldn’t get the words out. From his mumbling, you could only make out, “You have no fucking idea.”

Eren had to kiss you then, everywhere that he could reach. Your lower back and then the valley of it next. He kissed a path between your legs. With his hands on your ass, he spread you, luring a squeal from you when he licked a stripe through your pussy.

He stood tall on his knees, kicked your legs apart, and plunged inside you with a swift swing of his hips. You let out an indulgent moan, your hands clawing fists into the pillows. With the fingers digging into the dough of your sides, he worked you over his cock.

“You feel so fucking good,” Eren panted, almost like a laugh, as if he was in disbelief. He wanted to say he had forgotten how wonderful you felt, almost like you were made for him, but how could he forget? He had only been longing for it.

“Fuck,” you whined under your breath.

You didn’t see it, your head had dropped between your shoulders, but Eren smirked.

“You like when I talk to you, don’t you?”

He watched how your back arched deeper before you answered, babbling, “Yes, yes—oh fuck, yes.”

There was little else on your mind other than how close you were to coming for the second time. Absolutely desperate for it, you bounced back against Eren’s thrusts. He cursed through gritted teeth, watching you sink back onto his cock. His hand snaked between your legs in search of your clit. He began rubbing tight circles that you felt in your toes.

You squeaked out a small, breathless sound as your body tightened.

With a voice like gravel, Eren hummed, “There you go.”

He fucked you through it. His hips never lost their pacing, and the rhythm of his fingers was resolute even as you twitched below him. It wasn’t until you heard him grunt, “I can feel it—shit, I can feel you coming—you’re so tight,” that he began to strain.

With a cheek smushed into the sheets, your moans were choppy until they sputtered into one last sigh. You went slack in Eren’s grasp.

He slipped an arm beneath you before you could crumble to the bed, holding you close enough that he could feel your rabid pulse against his arm. Eren folded over you, lazily rutting into you. You felt his weight atop you, the words he etched into the nape of your neck when murmured, “I wanna be with you.”

Blame it on the orgasm, but for whatever reason, it didn’t register with you. Be with you—wasn’t that what was happening right now?

His hand scooped your chin, angling your face to kiss your temple.

“Come back to my place.” Eren ghosted his lips over your ear. “I wanna be with you tonight, like I should have the first time.”

You could only assume the blood had left your head by now. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were as malleable as putty; you’d agree to just about anything at that moment—if you could. Hazy off all those feel-good hormones, you couldn’t manage a nod as your body rocked with his. After a few more jerks of his hips, he pulled out.

He didn’t come but flipped you onto your back. You slumped into the pillows willingly, your legs falling at your sides so Eren could nestle between. He didn’t enter you again but laid his cock against you, nice and slick for him, and spread you with it. He held himself there with a flattened palm and fucked between you. Wrecked and tortuously sensitive, the head of his cock bumping your clit had you spinning to the point of seeing stars.

Eren’s eyes snapped shut as he focused on your blissful purrs below him. He was already close; it only took another stutter of his hips before he threw his head back and came across your stomach, some of it spurting as high as your tits and neck. The muscles of his arms flexed, the veins of them chiseled and defined, as he held you there, soft and pliant for him.

He was still breathing hard when he stilled. He flexed his fingers, stretching out an ironclad grasp, as he sat back on his heels.

“Fuck, what a mess.” Eren croaked a chuckle. “Sorry.”

He stood and poked around the room a bit before locating a tissue box on the dresser. It skipped through your mind to ask if this was Jean’s room, but you decided it was best you didn’t know.

Eren gave you some tissues before taking his handful to wipe you clean. Despite your attempts at controlling it, you were visibly trembling. He must have noticed because he didn’t rush to dress but flopped beside you, even if he claimed it was because he was too hot to put his shirt back on.

You lolled your head to the side to look at him. Dew painted the edges of his face, catching what little light was there and defining the structure.

You shared a look, let it linger between you. It was unreadable. A face of shock—one you surely mirrored, and yet comfort lapped at you like tropical waves. The two emotions, together in stark contrast, could be summarized with a simple, ‘It’s you.’

Said once through a heavy sigh, like the realization that you were only startled by a friend around the corner.

Said twice with your jaw cartoonishly dropped to the floor when you realized who you had sex with again—the prickle of surprise when you rouse from your dream only to find them naked at your side.

Eren patted the top of your thigh before heaving himself upright. Time to go.

You quickly dressed and straightened out as much as possible, double-checking that no one’s clothes were on backward. Eren was fixing his hair in the mirror when he asked, “You ready to get out of here?”

“You were serious?” you questioned—nicely, of course. You figured it was only a heat-of-the-moment sort of deal.

He caught your eye in the reflection. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t serious.”

It slipped from his tongue easily. It sounded natural, no different than fact, as he told you what he wanted—you. The words were weighty, dragging your woozy head back down to Earth. They sobered you up like a splash of ice water to the face.

You didn’t have any desire to return to the party. There was no way either of you could continue on as though nothing happened. Someone would catch on. Besides that, you didn’t want to pretend any longer; you were much more interested in seeing where the rest of the night would take you—where Eren would take you.

You plotted your exit well enough that Eren was waiting on your ride outside by the time you were sneaking out. You had texted Collin that you were leaving and took his lack of reply as a good sign. You gave Hitch a half-truth—told her you were going home with someone but didn’t specify who.

Eren’s apartment was nice, neat. Still exceptionally new and hardly lived in. Then again, he didn’t fit the type to go full throttle into interior decorating.

He immediately pointed out the bathroom because you had complained you felt gross during the drive. There, you rummaged around a bit before you found his face wash in the shower. You freshened up as much as you could, stealing a swig of mouthwash to rid the syrupy taste of liquor from your teeth.

Eren knocked at the door. You spat into the sink, wiped your mouth, and peeked out.

“Thought you might want these,” Eren said, offering what appeared to be clothes much comfier than your own, folded and stacked in his hands.

You thanked him, inspecting them once he left you to change. You decided on just the T-shirt; it covered enough. There was no use in hiding now, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking tripping over the legs of his sweatpants.

Though you were practically tip-toeing, Eren heard you the second you walked into the kitchen. He stepped out from behind the refrigerator door dressed in just a pair of shorts, no shirt. You held your breath when he smiled at you, ever so lopsidedly that you found it cute.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said like an admission, with a sheepish laugh and all.

Your giggle was just as lighthearted, smiling when you replied, “I am, too.”

He neared you in a step with ardor sparkling through his eyes. With hands closed around your waist, he scooped you up and plopped you onto the counter.

You yelped when its chill hit the backs of your thighs. You made yourself comfortable, sitting happily and with dangling feet, as you watched Eren cycle through what little preparation was necessary for a frozen pizza.

You’d seen him like this, exactly like this, just as you’d seen all of your brother’s friends lumber out from his bedroom at three in the afternoon on a Saturday. You never looked for too long; that was off-limits. But now, things were different. He was different—to you, at least. Now you could touch.

You studied the sinewy muscles of his back, how they pulled taut when he reached into the freezer. Even under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, the crests of his shoulders shone like gold even though it was the middle of a sunless winter.

Eren squinted to read the instructions on the back of the box. Your snickering was met with his side eye, and he followed it with a ‘don’t laugh’ as he tossed the box aside.

He snatched a bag of chips from the counter, and the two of you split them as an appetizer while the oven preheated. While the pizza baked, you played a game of twenty questions, just to pass the time. And when the timer blared, you ate your slices straight from the oven and asked each other questions with burnt tongues.

You learned that Eren’s birthday was on March 30th and that his favorite food was a cheeseburger, hold the pickles—that part was important. When it rained, he preferred to either nap or go outside to watch the storm, no in between. And if he woke up one day to discover he had superhero-like powers, Eren would want to be able to teleport and travel the world, even if his clothes couldn’t come with him—yes, you asked.

The questions continued into the bedroom because some answers, like the one to the superpower question, inspired lengthy conversations. You met Eren in his bed and curled against him, letting him spread the blanket over you. You were glad to have stuck with just the tee because you liked the feeling of his skin returning to yours, your legs intertwined with his.

It was Eren’s turn. It was the final question to end the game. You thought he’d contemplate it longer, as he had with his previous questions, but it only took a beat for him to ask, “Can I see the guy you’re dating?”

“Absolutely not!” You scoffed a laugh at his audacity, even sitting higher in your seat to balk at him. “Besides, that’s not how the game works.”

Still, his grin widened. “C’mon, please. It’s the least I deserve.”

He poked you playfully, causing you to giggle as you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I need to size up my competition.”

You wanted to be just as bold and tell him there was no competition, none at all. But your reluctant, “Fine, here,” said enough as you settled back into the crook of his arm.

You outstretched your phone before your face, far enough that Eren could see the screen, and scrolled to your dating app. You flitted through his profile because you didn’t want Eren to get a proper look, but he plucked the phone from your hand anyway. He glanced from you to the photo, then back to you once more.

“Seriously? This guy?” He tilted his head knowingly. “You know you can do better than that.”

Thinking you were clever, you sassed, “Oh, then are you suggesting you’re better?”

He flashed a cheeky smile. “Of course I am.”

You grabbed your phone from him with a roll of your eyes. “Whatever. He’s nice.” Eren pulled a face. “What?”

“It’s just the way you said it—‘he’s nice,’” he explained. “You don’t actually like him, do you?”

Eren was right. You didn’t want to admit it, though, not with the way he was eyeing you. But the truth sat heavy in your chest, and it consoled some of the weight to outrightly say, “No, not really. Not like I thought I did.”

You didn’t have the chance to set your phone aside before Eren snagged it again. Now aware of the guy’s name, he easily sorted through your contacts and found your messages with him. The unanswered text you last sent, well before winter break, stared back at you mockingly.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment waiting for Eren to comment on it, but whatever he was thinking, he kept the comment to himself.

It was undeniable that the guy must be a real prick for ignoring you. In turn, Eren determined he probably deserved what was coming: a message as short and sweet as ‘I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.’

Though you could have stopped him at any time, you still gasped, “Eren!” when he sent the text. It was meant as a scold but spilled from you as a laugh—as laughter, shaking your shoulders and making it a challenge to get your phone back.

A middle-of-the-night text like that could only mean one thing. You were sure he’d put the pieces together—that you had gotten with someone else—but you didn’t care. Now that he was out of the way, Eren ditched your phone next and captured the last bit of your attention.

His eyes were loyal to you, looking you straight in the face as he told you, “I like you. A lot.” He said it calmly, with a voice like a breeze. He brought a hand to your face and grazed it with the backs of his fingers. “Way more than I should, considering…”

Eren’s voice trailed off in a too-knowing way. He left it up to you to fill in the blank. No, blanks. Considering the only history between you was a two-night stand? Considering you lived three hours away? Or—how could you forget?—was it that you were the younger sister of his best friend?

The correct answer? All of the above.

Eren had more to say; you were sure of it. There was much—too much—left to be said. Tonight wasn’t the night for it.

You buried into the curve of his arm. Nose pressed against his neck, you breathed in the smell of his day, the salt on his skin from fucking. You lazed a hand on his chest. He was warm, live beneath your palm, his heartbeat like the patter of a tiny drum.

You took the bait then, carelessly pitching him, “So, how’s this going to work?”

Eren heard the smile in your voice. His fingers found your chin, angling your face toward him. On it was that coy smile of yours, the one he remembered from that night. He kissed it, soft-lipped, as chaste as a mere taste.

“We’ll figure it out.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

1K notes · View notes

plushieanimals · 5 days

Note

🥭 favorite category of plush

🍎 how do you organize/store/display your plushes

ask time! :3c dw about being inactive!! hope life is treating u better now <3

thank you 🩷 it’s getting better but chronic illness +work takes up my time but so does minecraft! lol!

🥭: i really love beanie babies! and other small bean bag style plushies (cats vs pickles for example!) i also have a large collection of build a bears, both a WWF collection, kennel pals, and eeveelutions!

🍎: i display my plush on my shelves around my apartment and on my desk! i organize them only really by franchise if they are from one like pokemon. My stored plush are kept in clear sterilite bins for safekeeping!

here are some pics of my displayed plush:

#my desk is bright mode cause i work from home and it cheers me up ^_^#those aren’t my amiibo btw lol #my plush #plush asks

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dancingtotuyo · 1 month

Text

Scathed 8 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, curly hair care (all you curly girls with straigh hair mothers know the painnnnnnn,)

Notes: shoutout @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and for being sad for these characters

Words: 3809

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry July 16, 1994

This summer has been good, surprisingly so. I went to the fair this year. Usually, the kids just go with Dad and Anna. We’ve done movies, and events downtown, and busy Saturday mornings at the hardware store. It doesn’t mean I haven’t puked afterward, but having Javier around has been nice.

Oh, and I registered for classes at the community college. I start at the end of August.

Emily sat on her bed, flipping through the photographs taken over the summer. Most of them were ones she’d taken, but every once in a while, one of the kids got a hold of it. They held evidence of the summer she’d been able to give her kids, and Javier was in almost all of them.

As she flipped through the final few of the stack, the last photo stood out. Her birthday, the one Ale had blinded her with. It turned out nicely. Her smiling at Javier, him smiling at her over the flaming candles, caught before they could react to the flash. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from it. A singular, perfect, magical moment caught on film.

She dropped the rest of them in the shoe box for safekeeping until she was ready to put the photo book together. The birthday one she slipped between the frame of her vanity mirror. She wanted a reminder of that day

“Mommm!” Miguelito called, opening her door.

Emily jumped, hand landing over her heart as she turned toward him. “How many times have I told you to knock?”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “Mateo isn’t getting ready like you said, and he’s making a mess in our room.”

She glanced over her oldest’s appearance, folding her hands over her chest. “And you’re completely ready, could hop in the car right now, I suppose?”

“I still have to brush my hair and teeth.”

“Then I suggest you go do that.”

Miguelito folded his lips in, looking to the side before he spun on his heels and walked away. Emily laughed to herself before making her way to the boys’ room to check in on her youngest. Sure enough, he sat next to the toy chest, playing contently with his new Playmobil set.

“Mateo,” she said, voice soft.

The boy’s head snapped up to her, a sheepish grin appearing.

“Are you ready to go?”

“No,” He shook his head, somehow still managing to look innocent.

“I put your clothes out on your bed an hour ago.”

“I’ll get dressed now.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, holding out her hand. “I’m going to hold onto your Playmobil until you’re ready to go, okay? So you don’t get distracted.”

Mateo looked between his new toy and his mother, not wanting to part with it. Emily waited with patience as he made his decision. “Once you’re ready, you can have it back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Emily smiled. With the added assurance, he handed the toy to his mother and rushed over to his clothes. “Don’t forget your hair and teeth.”

“I won’t!”

Emily smiled, leaving the room as a shirt went flying. Alejandra found her seconds later, brush and hairties in hand. “Can I have two braids today?”

Emily glanced down at her watch. They were already running behind. What was a few extra minutes at this point? “Go sit at the table.”

Alejandra had a big stubborn knot at the back of her head. That was what Emily got for not brushing it out before bed last night and the night before. The detangler bottle was all but empty. Alejandra had more hair than her mother and that was saying something. Emily let out a long sigh as she soaked the knot with watered-down detangler. “You’ve got rats nest back here, Mija. I’ll do my best, but it’s probably gonna hurt.”

Alejandra only nodded. The mother and daughter duo were more than familiar with the process, both individually and together. Emily had her own memories of sitting at the kitchen table as her mother brushed through massive knots, leaving her hair massive and frizzy. There had been plenty of tears in her younger years before her scalp toughened, Her mother hadn’t known how to handle the texture or the amount of hair she had. Looking back at pictures, Emily knew exactly when she began caring for her own hair as a preteen.

It was Emily’s goal to make this time as painless as possible for her daughter. It didn’t mean there weren’t ever tears. Ale’s scalp had started out tender, but Emily was sure to be as delicate as possible, using as much detangler and conditioner as needed, being gentle with the combs, teasing the curls back to life afterward.

Emily didn’t yell or fuss when her daughter tried to get away from the pain. The mother did her best to distract from the pain with jokes or stories. Overall, she shaped the hours of hair care into quality time, something she’d always wanted her mother to do with it.

“Mami?”

“Yes, baby?” The comb caught on an extra ratty tangle. Alejandra hissed. “Sorry.”

She reached back, rubbing her scalp gently before allowing her mother to continue. “I think we need to do that conditioner treatment thing again.”

“I think you’re right.” Emily kissed her head. “I’ll put it on the list. It helped a lot.”

Ale nodded. “Do you think Mr. Javi is going to think we ditched him? We were supposed to be there already.”

“I think he’s very used to us being late.” Emily laughed, freeing the last of the tangle with a deep sigh. She sprayed the hair again, letting it curl up a little before she began to part it.

“I think we should call him.”

“He’s probably at the park already.”

“I’ll leave a message. Just so he knows I was worried when he gets home.”

Emily rolled her eyes playfully, grabbing the phone off the wall behind her. The extra long cord lay flat on the floor between the wall and table. She handed it to Alejandra. “You know the number?”

The girl gave a firm single nod as she quickly dialed the number having memorized it at the beginning of the summer. She kicked her legs back and forth, bare feet brushing the legs of her chair under the table. Emily tied half of the curls to the side. “Look up at the ceiling, Ale.”

She obeyed, pressing the phone to her ear. Emily could hear it ringing as she focused on pulling all of the baby hairs around Ale’s hairline into the tight French braid. “Boys! Time to put on your socks and shoes!”

“Hello?” Javier’s static voice came through the phone.

Ale’s eyes lit up as she sat up a little straighter. “Mr. Javi! You’re supposed to be at the park already!”

He chuckled. “So are you, Alejandrina.”

“Yeah, but we always run late. You don’t.”

Emily shook her head, trying to hold in her laughter as she efficiently twisted Ale’s hair into the braid with minimal flyaways. Nothing like being called out by your own kid.

“I was just about to leave my house. What are you doing right now?”

“Mami is braiding my hair. I had a big tangle, otherwise, we would’ve been almost on time.”

“Well, that means I need to get going if I want to beat you there.”

Emily tied off the first French braid.

“Drive fast 'cause she just finished my first braid.” Alejandra tilts her head back again so Emily can start the second.

“Do your brothers have their shoes on?”

“Nope, still in their room.”

“Boys!” Emily called again. Javier’s chuckle came through a little louder. A faint Coming echoed from their room.

“He’s laughing at you,” Ale grinned up at her mother.

“Tell him to shut up.”

Ale’s eyes grew wide. “But I’m not allowed to say that. It’s not nice.”

“One-time exception.” Emily winked.

Alejandra bit her lip. Her honey-brown eyes sparkled with brief debate. Was she really being given permission? “Mami says to shut up.” She said it quickly like the permission might expire.

Javier kept laughing, it coming from deep within his chest this time. Emily let out a groan as she scrapped the braid and started over. The second one never cooperated like the first.

“I’ll see you soon,” Javier said.

“See you soon,” Alejandra replied and the line went dead. She handed the phone back to Emily who placed it back in the cradle. “We gotta go fast so we can beat him.” She wiggled excitedly in the chair.

The braid slipped through Emily’s fingers again and she let out a frustrated groan. “I’m trying, Mija. Boys!”

Finally, two pairs of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Mateo grabbed his toy off the table with a proud grin. “Tennis shoes with the laces, Mateo.” She reminded him.

Mateo groaned, dropping his velcro shoes where he stood. He was about to start kindergarten in the fall and she was desperate to get him ahead on the shoelace tying assignment. She’d learned her lesson from Alejandra’s kindergarten year. She’d essentially homeschooled Miguelito through Kindergarten in Mexico and managed to skip that assignment.

“I’ll help you,” Miguelito said.

Despite having to start Alejandra’s braid over for a fourth time, Emily found herself smiling as she listened to Miguelito’s patient and encouraging exchange with his younger brother over the tying of laces.

The flyaways weren’t as wrangled in the second braid, but finally, Emily tied it off. The Texas heat and sweat would pull them out soon enough. “Alright, shoes my dear.” She kissed Alejandra’s head

She popped out of the chair, pulling her shoes on as quick as possible. Matoe kicked his feet back and forth on the couch wearing a huge grin. “Done!”

“He did the second one all by himself!” Miguelito exclaimed, looking proud.

“That’s amazing,” Emily smiled brightly, smushing Mateo’s cheek with a kiss. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Okay! Let’s go!” Alejandra said, panting as if she’d used all her energy to pull on her shoes. “We have to beat Mr. Javi!”

The family of four bustled out of the house, with only one person having to run back in for a forgotten item. Alejandra was certain they would beat Javier to the park until they pulled in next to his faded red pickup. He leaned against it, arms crossed, sunglasses on the tip of his nose, and shirt half unbuttoned as usual.

Alejandra sighed exasperatedly with a loud huff. Javier smiled, waving to her through the window as she glared at him. “He definitely speeded.”

“Sped,” Miguelito corrected.

Javier stuck his tongue out at Alejandra from the other side of the glass. She mimicked him. Emily bit back a laugh.

They set up their picnic under the shade of a large oak tree set off the playground. The park was relatively quiet for a Saturday with only one other family nearby, but they knew it likely would be. That’s why they picked it. Set outside the city limits, it was a longer drive for the Kuykendall crew, but closer to Javier.

After lunch, Emily and Javier were pulled into a game of Blind Man’s Bluff which ended when a blinded Javier knocked his head against the monkey bars. Luckily for the adults, the children from the other family asked to join.

“How’s your head?” Emily laughed, falling to the picnic blanket, laughter still lacing her voice.

Javier rubbed it, easing down with a soft groan. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to get off the ground between his aging bones and the hot summer day. “Been better but I’ll live.” He eased onto his back, letting the faint breeze ease over him.

Emily grabbed a water bottle from the cooler. handing it back to him. Cool droplets splashed over his chest and head. Javier placed it against his carotid artery, humming with contentment. “It’s hotter than I realized today.”

Emily nodded, pulling her hair out of the loose ponytail. “Should probably make the kids come cool down before too long.” She dug into the cooler again, searching for her own water bottle.

Javier’s eyes followed the sway of her curls. His hand floated up of its own accord, letting one twist gently around his finger. Emily didn’t even notice. He sighed softly. He needed to tell her. The thought passed as his heat-soaked brain caught up and he let it drop. The feel of her soft hair against his skin stayed.

“They should sleep good tonight.”

“We all should,” Emily sighed, pressing the water bottle to her neck.

“Nightmares been keeping you up?” Javier asked, easing into a sitting position.

“Not as often as they had. You?” She glanced at him, pulling her hair over one shoulder.

Javier bit his lip, arms slung over his knees. A pit formed in his stomach. He knew he had to tell her. He couldn’t put it off any longer, not when he had a date circled on the calendar. “A little more the past week.”

“Something happen?” Javier looked away, a newfound interest in the tree to their left. His brow creased, frown lines appearing around his mouth. Emily felt the air shift. She fought the fight or flight response itching to life inside her. “Javier?”

He swallowed, pulling his attention back to her. “The DEA offered me a position,” he huffed, pulling up some of the grass beside him. “Hell, it’s a promotion really, back in Colombia. They want me to help take down Cali.”

Emily’s heart dropped. She tried to hide the dread that filled her, but he could see it. “When do you leave?”

“Never said I was going.”

“Didn’t have to. You wouldn’t be actin like someone died if you weren’t.”

Javier finally met her eyes through the light tint of his sunglasses. She chewed on her lip, eyes glistening even in the shade. “I’m sorry,” he said. His arm settled across her leg, hand hanging on her calf. Their thighs pressed against each other. Even in the scorching heat, neither minded.

“When do you leave?”

“August 5th”

Emily looked away, eyes tracking each of her children on the playground. They still played happily with the other children, having moved to a regular game of tag. “How long?”

“Contract’s for a year. Could be longer though. Just depends.”

Her gut twisted in a million tiny knots. She had so many questions. Some for him, and some for herself. Would she still be able to do all these things without him?

“You didn’t tell me they’d offered you a position.”

It was a silly thing to say. He didn’t owe her anything, but she felt a little hurt he hadn’t told her he was even considering it. “I didn’t think I would at first, but they kept calling and I-” Javier took a deep breath.

“You realized you had unfinished business.” She met his eyes again.

Javier sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah…”

She nodded, leaning into him slightly so their shoulders touched. He squeezed her calf softly as she wove her arms through his. The breeze picked up a little, providing some relief. Slowly, her body leaned into him more. Emily hesitated only slightly before letting her head drop to his shoulder.

Javier looked at it, almost in disbelief as the faint smell of her shampoo drifted his way. His heart pounded in his chest as his brain ran wild, setting off all the signals like he was a teenager asking his crush to homecoming. He hadn’t felt this way in years.

He wanted to press a kiss to her forehead. He wanted to do more than that, but the better-behaved part of his brain warned against it. One day, maybe he could kiss her head like well-meaning friends do, but not now. He wasn’t in the position to be a well-meaning friend today, and she had still hesitated to fully relax into him. Instead, he settled on resting his head against hers.

She kept her eyes focused on the kids. He kept his on her.

“Don’t forget about us, Okay?” She said.

Javier nudged against her softly, a soft smile ghosting over his lips. “Never. Couldn’t break Alejandra’s heart like that.”

She laughed and his heart lifted. “She’s grown quite fond of Mr. Javi.” She nudged him back, looking his way again. The whole world melted away when she looked at him like that.

Javier chuckled. He tucked a runaway curl behind Emily’s ear, careful not to linger. “Hope she’s not the only one.”

“I mean I think the boys will miss you too, but they don’t seem to have the same… affinity for you,” Emily winked at him. “that Ale does.”

“And my best friend?” Javier said. It was the first time the words felt painful to say like they didn’t cover the full scope of what Emily was to him.

“Will miss you greatly.” She squeezed his arm. “Not sure how I’m gonna function without you really.” She said it with an air of humor, but they both knew there was a real question buried under it.

He searched her eyes, racking his brain for something to say, but nothing came.

The kids came running back, Alejandra running through their bubble first followed by Miguelito, and then Mateo lagging behind on his shorter legs.

“Everyone needs to sit and drink some water,” Emily instructed.

Javier thought she might pull away, switch instantly into mom mode as he’d seen her do so many times, but she stayed against him as the kids followed her instructions with heavy panting.

Javier smiled taking in the scene. It made him wonder if he was doing the right thing. He had doubts about going back to Colombia, but the pull to finish it once and for all had outweighed them all. This right here, balanced the scales, tipping them in the other direction even.

Without warning, Alejandra gasped looking directly at the adults. “Don’t move.”

She dug around in Emily’s bag, pulling out the Polaroid camera Emily toted everywhere. Ale had as big of an affinity for taking pictures as her mother.

“Ale, I’m all sweaty,” Emily said as her daughter held it up.

“No mami, you look beautiful,” She chastised. “Now smile.”

“Do as the lady says.” Javier chuckled, shifting so his arm was behind Emily’s back as he let a genuine smile overtake his face. Emily’s hand fell to his knee. She sighed, but obeyed, smiling at the camera.

Ale shifted around, making sure to get the correct angle until finally the camera flashed. She announced it was “perfect” before the photo had fully spit out of the camera and placed it carefully in the case Emily kept for developing photos.

Javier chuckled next to her as he slowly pulled away from her. Even in the sweltering Texas heat, Emily missed him next to her.

Emily lay in bed that night, sheets kicked to her feet. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. Javier was leaving. Leaving Texas, leaving her, and he didn’t know when he was going to be back. What if he didn’t come back? The thought turned her blood to ice, sparking the flame of anxiety. She shot up, sweat gathering across her skin as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn’t go there, couldn’t let the thoughts consume her, but they already had. Try as she might, none of her usual tools worked to combat it as images of Javier lying in the street with a bullet hole filled her brain.

Finally, she pulled herself out of bed on shaky feet. She grabbed a stray pack of cigarettes and a lighter off the table on her way to the backyard, barely keeping it together long enough to flick the lighter to life and inhale the smoke. Her shaking steadied with the first hit of nicotine. The rhythm of it gave her mind a distraction, pressing the butt to her lips, the orange glow at the tip, smoke filling her lungs and then releasing into the air. She hadn’t smoked in months, deciding to stop when Javier did, but tonight none of that mattered. He was leaving her.

The door opened behind her. She spun around to find her father, looking disheveled in his boxers and opened robe with his hair sticking up. He lifted an eyebrow. He returned the gesture, holding out his hand for the pack of cigarettes. She handed it over with the lighter.

Jaime methodically pulled one out, flicking the lighter with more ease and steady hand than Emily had moments before. The father and daughter stood next to each other, their silhouettes copies of the other in the moonlight.

“Haven’t caught you out here in a while.”

“Was I loud?”

“Rattled the whole house when you slammed the door.”

Emily cringed, taking another drag from the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

She waited a second, flicking the ash. “I’m guessing you already know.”

Jaime sighed. “I knew he was offered it. Just found out he accepted last evenin.” Emily bristled slightly. “It’s just a year, Sweetheart.”

“No, the contract is for a year.”

Jaime turned toward his daughter. She looked like the Emily he’d known before the spring, the one who was scared and jumpy all the time, not the blooming flower he’d come to know in the past few months. The difference was night and day. He didn’t want to see her go back to that place.

“Em…”

“What if he doesn’t make it back?” Emily interrupted him, letting the internal thoughts become external. “What if he gets shot or worse, and I never see him again?”

He reached out, putting an arm around his daughter. He kissed her head, rubbing soothing circles against her back. Tears gathered in Emily’s eyes.

“He’s good at what he does.”

“Even the best agents get killed.”

Jaime nodded. He’d know some of those. He kept his mouth shut and let Emily talk. That was what she needed anyway. She talked through all of it until she started leaning into him more, words slurring with sleep until she all but fell asleep standing against him.

He smiled, guiding his grown, sleepwalking daughter through the house. He tucked her into bed, all the nights he missed when she was little flickering through his mind. It was these nights when it hit the most. The what ifs. What if he’d pursued more legal action against her mother? What if he hadn’t let the DEA whisk him off to Guadalajara without a custody agreement? The guilt of it all never left him.

He pushed the hair out of her face, setting one last kiss on her forehead. As he closed the door behind him, he heard her soft, slurred words. “Goodnight, Dad.”

He smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

#javier peña x ofc #javier peña fanfiction #Javier peña #Javier peña narcos #scathed (javier peña)#pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro stories #pedrostories #Javier peña series

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writer-in-theory · 1 year

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Happy Birthday, Eddie Munson — steddie.

Summary: Steve meant to slip the birthday card into Tina's locker, but the smile on Eddie Munson's face made it all worth it—even if he forgot to sign the card. Prompt: C1 - Secret Admirer Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Teen Word Count: 5.4k Content Warnings: Language, Minor Self-deprecation, Hospitals Read On AO3: Here A/N: This is another fill for @harringroveson-bingo !!

When Eddie was fifteen, he had a secret admirer.

It was simple and unexpected, just a birthday card slipped into his locker the week of his birthday. It was one of those corny ones from the general store, with a little bumblebee on the front with text that read ‘Hap-Bee Birthday’. The inside had a handwritten note tucked in the corner, the words shaky and curved like the writer had been in a rush.

Happy birthday, gorgeous. I hope you have a day as sweet as you are, you deserve it.

There was no name, no hint as to who would have bothered wishing Eddie “The Freak” Munson a happy birthday when no one had seemed to care before. He’d tried to look at every face in his graduating class that day, searching for a smile or nod, even a pen streak in the same bright blue that had been used on the card. Yet, no one had given him anything. In fact, besides Uncle Wayne, the only person who’d even acknowledged his birthday at all was that secret admirer with their silly little card that Eddie would treasure. All Eddie could do was tuck the card into his locker for safekeeping, leaving it there front and center for two weeks before he finally took it home to stash in his room.

The next year, when Eddie had grown older and a little meaner, hardened by the crueler words his classmates had learned through high school, he hadn’t been expecting anything. And yet, despite his worries, when he opened his locker on November 5th another card was waiting for him. It was the same dorky kind of card, this time with a pair of otters holding hands and a caption that read ‘Happy birthday to my otter half’.

Immediately he was grinning, looking down either side of the hallway in an attempt to find whoever had left the card behind. When no one stood out obviously, he turned his attention back to the card, hands shaking as he opened the card in search of another handwritten note from his admirer. Sure enough, in the same blue ink was another note. Eddie couldn’t help but think that his admirer was working on their handwriting since this one seemed more intentional with far fewer shaky lines and near-illegible letters.

Happy birthday, gorgeous. If today is half as wonderful as you are, then it’ll be a damn good one.

Still no signature. There still wasn’t anything else to go off of, except for the fact that they were clearly still in school too. With only one note per year though, Eddie knew it would be near impossible to find out who was sending him birthday cards. So he’d hold onto the ones he had, keeping them close for the reminder that there was someone in the school who understood him. There was someone—though they were obviously too scared to admit it—that saw Eddie as lovable.

He wanted to know all about them. He kept the cards in a box in his room, occasionally pulling them both out to re-read. Maybe he could find some clue hidden within the words, something that would give him a hint as to what his admirer was like. Eddie didn’t even need to know their name yet, but longed to know anything that might explain why they’d chosen him. What kind of music did they listen to, and what did they want to do after school? Were they in the marching band? Did he already talk to them?

The cards continued. Senior year, he had another, resting on top of the books stacked in his locker as usual.

Happy birthday, gorgeous. If being like you means being a freak, then I want in. Don’t let Hawkins High get you down, you’ll show them someday.

Then, more curiously, his first repeat year came with another birthday card on the 5th of November. Considering he’d been the only one who’d been held back (and only because the teachers were refusing to help the “poor damaged Munson boy”), that meant his admirer had to be in the year below his.

It also meant that when May rolled around and Eddie didn’t graduate again, he inevitably had to say goodbye to his admirer forever. He still held onto the slim hope that somehow, his admirer would find a way to sneak a birthday card to him. It never came though, not even when Eddie had spent the night before wishing on every plane in the sky he’d call a shooting star, wishing for just one more chance to find this person.

By the time March rolled around, Eddie had forgotten entirely about his admirer. Between cheerleaders dying in his trailer, and pretty ex-jocks storming into his hideout yelling about magical wizards and a girl who can move things with her mind, an anonymous birthday wish seemed like the last of Eddie’s worries.

But when he lay on the ground of the Upside Down being torn into by demon bats from Hell, all Eddie could think about was that he hoped his secret admirer would find happiness. They deserved it, for ever thinking that Eddie Munson could be more than what Hawkins made him out to be.

When Eddie was thirteen and Uncle Wayne’s old dog died, Wayne had told him that death was sometimes the peaceful thing. It could be a good thing, it allowed those who had lived all the life they needed to rest. That seemed like a load of bullshit when Eddie woke up after dying, because nearly every square inch of his body felt like it was on fire. It also felt much colder than what he assumed it would be, given where everyone in Hawkins told him he was going after.

Death also looked like a hospital, for some fucking reason.

“Eddie?” Turning his head, Eddie was met with the sight of his Uncle Wayne slumped over in a stiff hospital chair, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. It looked like he was seconds from melding right into the chair, exhaustion carried in every joint.

Eddie had half expected to see the kids if he ever survived any of this, all of them gathered around him in the hospital. He’d at least assumed Henderson would be there, with Steve Harrington in tow like the ex-jock never had anything better to do than drive Dustin where he needed to be. Harrington, who was every bit as sweet, charming, and funny as Henderson had claimed he’d become, who’d made Eddie shamefully wish for even one more day of the Upside Down shit if only it meant spending more time with him. Eddie might’ve even hoped for Buckley and Wheeler, who’d begun to worm their way into his heart too, the bastards.

He supposed it only made sense that it was just him and Wayne again, together against the world as it had always been.

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie tried to laugh through the scratchiness in his throat, sending himself into a coughing fit severe enough to have him sitting up and clutching his chest for relief from the burn. Wayne simply sat with him through it, reaching out to rub his back until the coughing subsided. “Sorry,” Eddie winced once it was over, not oblivious to the worry in Wayne’s eyes.

“Don’t you pull that shit ever again, you hear me?” Wayne stared at him seriously, not even trying to hide the tears making his eyes glassy.

Suddenly Eddie felt twelve again, sitting in a hospital bed exactly like this one while his Uncle Wayne told him that he was moving to Hawkins, Indiana. He’d felt small in the massive bed then too, squirming against the itchy sheets and tight bandages, wondering when he’d be able to smell fresh air that didn’t make his throat itch again. Wayne had held his hand then too, finally answering the questions with blunt honesty that no other adult ever gave him. He’d been the first to tell Eddie that the way his dear old dad had taken him on jobs, how he’d tried a getaway chase with little Eddie in the front seat could have ended with a greater tragedy than being bored in a hospital for three days.

He wondered how much anyone had told Wayne about what happened. This wasn’t the face of someone whose entire world had been turned around with admissions of monsters and hellscapes, but then again Wayne Munson was one of the strongest people Eddie had ever met in his entire life. Nothing would ever surprise him about Wayne, not even if he’d admitted he’d known about the Upside Down all this time.

“Sorry, Wayne,” was the only thing Eddie could even think to say. His head rolled to the side, squishing half of it on the pillow so he could properly face his uncle. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Wayne forced out, though his entire body language relaxed after scrubbing his face harshly with his hands. His next sentence was spoken much softer like he was finally coming to terms with what had happened. “Putting yourself in harm's way, risking yourself for those kids...I’m proud of you, son.”

It wasn’t the first time Wayne had told him that. No, it was like he’d heard it somewhere in some self-help book on how to raise traumatized nephews because the man seemed to tell him it every day. Washed the dishes while Wayne was working? Proud father moment. Failed high school a second time but hey, his grade point average had actually gone up from the last attempt? He might as well have earned his degree that day with the way Wayne had whooped and hollered and shone in pride.

It was far too much to hear now though, remembering far too plainly what it had felt like to be eaten alive, to know that those moments could have been his last. He didn’t want to spend any time considering what it would have been like if the group hadn’t gotten him out quickly enough, or consider what Wayne would have been telling the group instead if he’d died a hero. Would he still be proud of him?

“No more hero moves, cross my heart,” Eddie answered, trying to give that same cheeky smile that used to make his uncle howl with laughter. “Everyone’s okay?”

“They were worried somethin’ terrible about you,” Wayne told him, gesturing to the other side of the hospital room.

Eddie wanted to cry when he turned his head. It was all cheesy stuff—little stuffed bears and balloons, and even a crayon drawing signed by Holly Wheeler. They all cared enough to leave him something, to wish that he’d get better even if they couldn’t be in the room when he’d woken up. There was one, though, that stood out to him even from the collection of items gathering on the counters on that side.

“Is that a birthday card?” he asked, turning to face Wayne again. “Who left a birthday card?”

Had his secret admirer really heard about what had happened already? Had they come by, leaving behind the card that had been missing the last November?

“So many of those kids’ve been in here, I have no idea who left what,” Wayne admitted, though did stand to hand Eddie the card. It was the same silly kind he might have found at Melvald’s, this time with a little strawberry and a caption telling Eddie to have a berry happy birthday. It was the note written inside of the card, though, that had Eddie blushing furiously.

Get well soon, gorgeous. I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to wish you a happy one ever again. Stick around for quite a few more, for me.

Eddie kept the card close to him, right there next to the pillow on the bed. Even when the nurses came in to check on him, and Wayne had left to get ready for work, the card had stayed there to help him through every bit of his hospital stay. It was a lifeboat in the vastness that was his hospital stay, contingent on how well nightmare-inducing monster wounds healed over the next few days. Even when everyone else had to go back to their own responsibilities, his secret admirer remained there for him.

In the morning, he had a new visitor.

“Eddie!” the familiar voice screeched as the boy sprinted into the room, quickly followed by a pair of white Nikes and another voice calling after the first, “Hey, no! He could be sleeping, don’t yell.”

Nothing could ever prepare him for the speed at which Henderson rushed to his bedside, immediately wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. “You’re awake! You can’t scare us like that, Eddie, it’s not cool,” Dustin said after pulling from the hug.

“Hey, couldn’t let Harrington be the only hero,” Eddie teased, sending a pointed look to the man standing in the doorway of the hospital room. “You can come in, I don’t bite. Or maybe I do now, d’you think this is how vampires are created?”

“You’re not a vampire,” Dustin scolded, though he was laughing too.

“You’re feeling better, Munson?” Steve asked when he finally moved away from the doorframe, eyes tracking the hospital bed like something might attack him if he dared turn away.

“I’m feeling about twenty pounds lighter,” Eddie teased, “I’d highly recommend the demobat diet.”

There was something so odd about making Steve Harrington laugh. The sound snorted out of him at first, like a burst of water from behind a dam as though he hadn’t truly intended to let it out in the first place. Then he’d seem to realize where he was, or rather, whom he was with, and then he’d grow red in the face and the laugh would peter out. Steve would wipe his hand over his mouth like he might be able to stuff the laugh right back in.

Eddie found himself longing to hear the sound in all its glory. He’ll add that one on the checklist after ‘graduate from Hawkins High’ and ‘clear his name of murder’.

“You’re a hero, Eddie!” Dustin told him as if being able to read his thoughts. “Hopper and Owens’ team of freaky government people—no, I know, trust me—spent all weekend working on a story. No one thinks you’re a suspect.”

“Just like that? Some government suits wave their hands and I’m just fine?” Eddie questioned, instinctively looking to Steve for some kind of confirmation of what Dustin had said.

“Yeah. Some people in town aren’t taking it too well, but mostly...you’re free,” Steve confirmed, smiling brightly.

Apparently, they’d told the town it was an earthquake and not the death of an interdimensional monster that had been created in Hawkin’s very own freaky ass lab. Wayne had been told a little of what happened after he’d questioned the whole cover story, but mostly they left it for Eddie to explain when he was ready.

Though there was some damage to the town, it wasn’t enough to completely destroy the town’s functions. School was still continuing, and as much as the Party begged to stay home so they could visit Eddie, their parents said no. Dustin had wanted to come sooner, he’d told Eddie about four times the entire visit, but their lives were all hectic after the final battle.

It made sense, it did. It didn’t help Eddie’s loneliness in the moment, but he’d get through it. He was used to pushing through the tough moments on his own.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked, not bothering to wait for approval before he was snatching the card from under Eddie’s pillow. “Birthday? I thought it was in November.”

“It is, you nosey little brat,” Eddie laughed, reaching out for the card again. “I’ll have you know, I have a secret admirer.”

“Seriously? Who is it?”

“If I knew that, they wouldn’t be very secret, would they?” Eddie said. “I don’t know. Went to high school with them. I’ll find them eventually, if they want me to.”

Dustin change the topics quickly when the idea of romance and secret love grew to be too boring for him. It was easy to listen to the kid talk, every once in awhile throwing in a comment that would reroute the conversation more often than not. It was nice, relaxing. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the Upside Down had never happened and he was sitting back at Hellfire Club with all of his friends.

Dustin stayed until Steve was reminding him of the curfew his mother had set for him. He’d hugged Eddie tight then hurried out of the room, leaving Steve to awkwardly raise a hand in goodbye with the promise to be back again soon.

Eddie hoped Steve kept his promise.

The birthday cards kept appearing. Eddie tried to stay awake to catch the suspect but time and again, he’d inevitably succumb to the pain medications pumped through the drip line, waking up to a new cheesy card. No one on the staff seemed to want to tell him who it was either, either saying they hadn’t seen anyone drop it off or that there’d been a handful of people his age who came to visit and it could’ve realistically been any one of them.

“I’m starting to think it’s a joke,” Eddie explained, setting the wooden box Wayne had brought over for the cards back on the side table. “Harrington, have you seen anyone else coming in here?”

That was the other odd change. Steve Harrington came to visit him nearly every day, even if it was a quick visit before or after his shift at the Family Video. He told Eddie it was because the others were busy with their families, and weren’t allowed out of the house after disappearing for a day and being accused of being in a cult, but Eddie couldn’t help but think it was because he was a hair lonely, too.

“Me? No, haven’t...haven’t seen whoever it is,” Steve answered, rubbing at the back of his neck and tugging at the hair there. “Do you have any ideas?”

“That’s the thing!” Eddie shouted, feeling the excitement building in him at the chance to talk about this with someone. No one else had seemed to understand the significance of it all, that they were more than just birthday cards but promises of something good and worthwhile being in Hawkins. It was the promise that, somewhere out there, someone had looked past all the rumors and dramatic gestures and had seen him. They’d seen him and wanted to stay.

Apparently, Steve Harrington understood it too. The Harrington-Wheeler breakup scandal had been well-known throughout the school, and it hadn’t been difficult to see the downward progression in the jock’s moods after the infamous scene—so it was easy to figure that Harrington understood deeply what it meant to not be wanted.

“He doesn’t leave many clues. I know he graduated in ‘85 but that’s all I can figure out.” With little to do in the hospital, it had been the perfect time-consuming activity for Eddie to pour over each and every card, searching for anything that would tell him more about this person.

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” Steve asked, hands fidgeting with themselves in his lap. He’d said it out loud, hadn’t he? Eddie hadn’t meant to reveal his second theory, especially not to the King of Hawkins himself who might’ve once beaten him up for such a confession.

“The handwriting, mostly,” Eddie conceded. “Don’t worry, big boy, just ‘cause I like guys doesn’t mean I’ll come onto you too.”

“No! No, I know that Eddie, I do,” Steve rushed to correct, even lifting off the chair a little in his seriousness. “I—Shit, I’m...I like guys too. And girls. I just like people, I guess.”

There weren’t many things that could leave Eddie speechless. The time he saw Judas Priest in concert, the first time a guy had ever kissed him when they were high in his van, and now Steve Harrington telling him that he was bisexual. All Eddie could do was stare, even when Steve began to blush and curl his shoulders inward under the look.

“It’s not that big a deal, man,” Steve tried to brush it off, rubbing at the back of his neck again as if to broadcast his nervousness.

“Jesus H. Christ, this is a huge deal, Steve!” Eddie shouted excitedly, moving as well as he could to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing the chair Steve was bent over in. “This is the hugest fucking deal. You, Steve “The Hair” Harrington, like to suck dick with the rest of us. You know what this means?”

“What does this mean?” Steve asked, with the sort of fond exasperated look that made Eddie want to take a picture and keep it close, forever.

“It means you’re a certified, genuine freak!” Eddie cheered, hardly minding the strain in some of his healing wounds when he raised his arms in the air to cheer. “Welcome to the team, Stevie, how’s it feel?”

“Honestly?” Steve asked, tugging his hand through the front swoop of his hair. It was almost irritating how often he could stick his hands in the mop and still have it look devastatingly perfect. “It feels pretty good, man. If I’d known this is what it was like? I would’ve been a freak a long time ago.”

Then the man seemed to realize what they were talking about. He shook his head a little, head dipping like it was too much to make eye contact with Eddie at that moment. “Anyway, your secret note guy. You’re really serious about finding him?”

“He’s remembered to wish me a happy birthday every year for four years, Steve,” Eddie answered nearly immediately. “He remembers me, every year, and always takes time out of his day to let me know that. Of course, I want to find him.”

“But what if...what if he’s not what you’re expecting? What if you get disappointed?”

It was a possibility, Eddie supposed. It could end up being all a joke, or just someone who wanted to pay kindness to someone who needed it without really wanting any kind of relationship in the end. It could all still be a dream, too, and he’d wake up back in Hawkins High without having anyone in his corner.

“As long as they’re real, I can’t be disappointed,” Eddie admitted, hoping it didn’t sound as cheesy or desperate as he felt.

They didn’t talk about his secret admirer again. Instead, they talked about plans after school and how all the kids were doing now that they knew with absolute certainty that this Upside Down shit was done for good. Steve stayed until sunset and one of the nurses came in to remind him that he still had to follow visiting hour rules too.

A week after the Upside Down, something went wrong.

They were calling it some kind of infection, and it had spread too quickly to stop it early. By the time they had any idea what was going on, Eddie was sweaty and gross, too out of it to understand anything. In brief flashes of consciousness, he thought he heard the staff telling Wayne that this was scary serious, that there was a chance he wouldn’t pull through after all.

It felt a little like he was on another planet, in those days when his body was fighting off some strange bacteria. There was no pain, no town of people to worry about when he recovered, just simple blissful nothingness.

And then he recovered.

It was like a rope was connected to his belly button, yanking him harshly back into his body with a pained groan. They were clearly still pumping him full of pain medication, but the overwhelming soreness that came from days spent in a stiff hospital bed still hadn’t eased.

“Eddie? Are you awake?” a voice sniffed out to his left, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps over to his side of the bed. “Eddie?”

The room was too bright, as always. He wished hospitals had a dimmer switch or at least some way to turn off the fucking lights that were clearly trying to blind every patient in the whole damn building. Eddie winced, blinking through the blurriness that came from having his eyes closed for however many days he’d been out. Still, he wasn’t wholly convinced that he wasn’t still out, considering the sight before him now.

Steve Harrington was on his knees by the bed, holding onto one of Eddie’s hands between both of his own like it was a lifeline. Those big brown doe eyes were glassy and full of tears, letting some of them slip down in glossy tracks down his cheeks. The sight reminded Eddie of those Greek paintings he’d seen on a field trip to a museum in middle school, where the tragic hero looked absolutely gorgeous in their complete and utter sorrow. He hadn’t understood at the time why anyone would want to capture people in their grief forever, but looking at Steve’s fragile expression now, he almost understood.

“God, Eddie, I thought you were gonna d—” Steve winced, cutting himself off before he could say the word they both were thinking.

“Hey, can’t get rid of me that easy,” Eddie chuckled, voice a little deeper and rougher from disuse. “Please don’t cry, Steve, I’m not worth all those tears.”

“Stop, please,” Steve suddenly begged, eyebrows drawing together in near frustration even as a new wave of tears fell over his lower eyelids. “I wish you’d stop talking about yourself like that.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie told him, shrugging his shoulders as best he could in bed. “It’s really okay.”

“It’s not okay, Eddie, it’s not!” Steve pressed, using his free hand to scrub harshly at the tears on his face before reaching behind him on the chair for something. “It’s not okay. You keep letting everyone around you act like you’re not the kindest, funniest, most badass person in all of Hawkins. Like, for some reason you don’t think you’re worth the effort either and that...that fucking sucks, man.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he died and went to some version of heaven, because after the kind of speech he thought only existed in the cheesy romance films Wayne liked to watch when he thought Eddie was asleep, Steve pulled out a birthday card.

A fucking birthday card.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but every time I try to talk I just mess it up,” Steve continued, holding out the card with a shaky hand for Eddie to take. “I’m no good with my words but...but I can do this, so...”

The inside of the card was filled to the brim with writing, the words as small as possible while still being legible. Eddie’s hands quivered as he tried to read, having to rest the card on the bed finally to make it even possible for him to focus.

Happy birthday, gorgeous.

I know your birthday is November 5th, but somehow I can only find the courage to tell you how I feel in these cards.

It was an accident, the first time. I meant to put it in Tina’s locker next to yours, and then even worse I forgot to sign it. But maybe it was for the best I had because you never would have thought it was something good if you’d known it was me, back then. I wasn’t going to do it again, but I saw that smile when you read it. I saw it when you opened your locker days later, I saw how your entire face would soften like it was the most prized possession you’d ever had, and I knew then I was hooked.

I looked forward to November every year after that. I wanted to be the one to make you smile, to bring you some sort of happiness. There was so much I wanted that I never thought I could have, but most of all it was you. I wanted to know everything about you, wanted to see what you kept hidden away from everyone else in the school. I wanted to know who Eddie Munson was.

And hell, I did. The Upside Down never did anything good, but maybe just this once I can say something good came out of being involved: I got to know you.

Then you almost died, Eddie. Twice. You almost died twice and I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you everything. I thought you’d die never knowing that you’re the most radiant person I know, and that every moment I get to spend with you I feel like the luckiest person on Earth.

I really like you, Eddie, and I knew maybe from the moment I first saw that smile that I would love you too.

Eddie read over the words once, twice, three times as if to make sure they actually existed and wouldn’t change on him. It didn’t seem real that after all this time, it was Steve who’d been his hope for so long. It was Steve Harrington who’d been able to see right through him from the start and didn’t run from what he saw. It was Steve Harrington who was the first person who made him feel entirely capable of being loved in that way.

“What the fuck,” Eddie hissed out, fingers running gently over the words like that might help him take them in better. “Steve, what the hell.”

The slight crumple in Steve’s expression should’ve clued Eddie into how his statement was perceived, but all he could do was stare with wild eyes at the man who’d just poured his heart out to him.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. It doesn’t have to mean anything, we can pretend it didn’t happen. But I needed you to know, I just needed you to know,” Steve hurried out, the tears beginning to build being the only thing that snapped Eddie out of his complete shock.

“Like hell, we can pretend,” Eddie returned just as quickly, “I don’t wanna pretend. Stevie, you...it was you.”

“It was me...surprise,” Steve said, voice lilting oddly like it was dripping with every ounce of self-deprecation that existed in the man.

“Steve, I really want to kiss you but I can’t move, help me out?”

It was Eddie’s turn to shock Steve then. He nearly laughed at the way Steve’s eyes widened impossibly further, eyebrows reaching as far up his forehead as they’d go. Even his lips parted at the statement, leaving him looking like he might combust if Eddie said another word.

Then, all at once, Steve was rushing to his feet and leaning over the bed. Large hands were grabbing at either side of Eddie’s face and Steve’s lips were pressed to his own. He was gentle at first, hesitant to give Eddie time to back away from the move. When no such thing happened, Steve pressed harder, one hand moving further back to tangle in Eddie’s unruly hair.

It was magical and impossible and absolutely glorious all at once. Eddie never wanted the kiss to stop, wanted to remain in this moment for however long the universe would allow him to.

He’d blame the breathlessness and the shock for what he said after.

“It’s November 7th. My birthday, it’s November 7th.”

Steve was still leaning over him, face so close Eddie had to go slightly cross-eyed to focus on him. The proximity allowed him to see every minute change in Steve’s face as the confusion set in, however. The little wrinkle between his eyebrows, the slight downturn to his lips as he thought about what Eddie had said.

“But...I gave the first one to you on the 5th. You knew I was getting your birthday wrong and it never upset you?”

Eddie shrugged a little. “It was close enough.”

“Well,” Steve started, laughing as he tossed the latest birthday card toward the end of the bed so he wouldn’t crush it as he leaned further onto the bed. “I’ll get it right this year, gorgeous, I promise.”

“You better, I’m looking forward to it,” Eddie teased through the burning feeling that washed over his cheeks.

Their second kiss was somehow even better than the first, as magical as Eddie’d been dreaming about for years.

TAGLIST: @alessiamargaux @minispice-1 @shadetea @emily19990 @alexxavicry @raven2008 @whoringrove @strangerleaves @blackpanzy @goodproofingwater @greetings-and-salutations @doralovesit @lesbianpinkhairedjughead @kerlypride @singmeyoursimpsong @im-sam-fucking-winchester @angel_wings_and_tattoos @itch-my-b0nez

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#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #wayne munson #stranger things fanfiction #harringroveson bingo #jay writes in theory

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btsgotjams27 · 2 years

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this is us ~ jjk | masterlist

How could you possibly forget him? You couldn't even if you wanted to. You wanted to extract core memories of the two of you and store them in a pensieve for safekeeping, so you could revisit them whenever you missed him, but magic isn't real, and the fairytale of you and him isn't either. You were just a writer caught up in your fantasies, living in daydreams, escaping reality, and projecting your hopes and dreams onto an imperfect person--what a fool you were. But yet, this is you. This is him. This is the story of us.

✨ title: this is us | completed (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ word count: 159k | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap ✨ warnings: language, kissing, alcohol consumption, significant age gap (9 years), noona kink, recreational drug use (edibles), girlxgirl kiss, insecure reader, crappy mom, jungkook's nipple is pierced, cheating, toxic ex's (jk's & readers), talks of miscarriage/inhospitable uterus, flashbacks to 18-year-old jk, reader slaps someone, accidental voyeurism, heartbreak, time skip, eventual happy ending, there is a lot of emotional trauma and this story is pretty much a rollercoaster of emotions, love confessions, longing, pining ✨ smut warnings: jungkook + reader attempt to have sex in a hot tub and fail, allusions to sex, LOTS of teasing and touching, blindfold kink, masturbation(f), unprotected sex, oral sex (m,f), creampie, rough sex, rough oral (m receiving), 69, jungkook is a tease but so is reader, non-penetrative sex, fingering, breast play, light anal play, protected sex ✨ a/n: hiii, this is a sequel to all grown up! if you've read it here, then you can read the sequel :) this is probably one of my favorite series, and this couple has a special place in my heart. ✨ a/n 2: have a drabble request for any of my couples? drop them here and i'll do my best to fulfill them! ✨ read on AO3 & Wattpad ✨ playlist | ✨ quiz: which tiu character are you? | how well do you know tiu? ✨ tags: fic: this is us | tiu couples mood boards | tiu asks | tiu ramblings | ask my muse | tiu pin board | character profiles

✨ one - this is how you fall in love | wc: 5.5k ➥ you start to fall hard for jungkook.

✨ two - back hugs and peppered kisses | wc: 4.3k ➥ when you're stressed, jungkook has a way to help.

✨ three - hot tubs and clubs pt 1 | wc: 10k ➥ you get to meet jungkook's college friends during a weekend getaway.

✨ four - hot tubs and clubs pt 2 | wc: 5.0k ➥ jimin and taehyung want to party before they leave.

✨ five - daydreams and stargazing | wc: 4.2k ➥ you finally talk to jungkook about the conversation you overheard.

✨ six - it's not all rainbows and butterflies | wc: 5.6k ➥ after a hard conversation with your mother, you learn some new things about yourself.

✨ drabble - girl's night | wc: 2.0k ➥ a fun girl's night with yuna and hyunie.

✨ drabble - the reveal | wc: 4.0k ➥ jungkook sees the photos you took with hyunie.

✨ seven - party of three | wc: 5.4k ➥ you find out yuna's big secret and reveal one of your own.

✨ eight - a blast from the past pt 1 | wc: 5.5k ➥ a blast from jungkook's past comes to stir shit up.

✨ nine - a blast from the past pt 2 ~ the college years | wc: 8.3k ➥ jungkook feels guilty about what he did.

✨ ten - a blast from the past pt 3 | wc: 10.3k ➥ jungkook finally admits what's been on his mind.

✨ eleven - the call | wc: 7.8k ➥ you receive an unexpected call.

✨ twelve - i do | wc: 6.3k ➥ you finally find hyunie, amongst other things.

✨ thirteen - heartbreak hotel pt 1 | wc: 6.6k ➥ after a few weeks apart, you have to tell jungkook what's happening.

✨ fourteen - heartbreak hotel pt 2 | wc: 8.6k ➥ jungkook makes a decision that will change the course of his life.

✨ fifteen - here comes baby | wc: 5.4k ➥ let's have that baby, shall we?

✨ drabble - it'll be okay (jk) | wc: 891 ➥ a small glimpse of life in LA

✨ sixteen - so maybe you're not okay | wc: 5.4k ➥ six months later and you're still not over jungkook, and when you finally hit rock bottom, you realize you have to pick yourself up because no one else can do it for you.

✨ seventeen - one year later | wc: 8.8k ➥ it's been one year since the breakup, have jungkook and y/n been able to move on?

✨ eighteen - you're seeing things, aren't you? | wc: 10.9k ➥ you're dreading the meeting in LA, but it's a big city. you're not gonna bump into jungkook, are you?

✨ drabble - dream bigger, darling | wc: 1.3k

✨ nineteen - together again | wc: 9.7k ➥ after three long weeks, you and jungkook reunite.

✨ twenty - ending credits | wc: 9.2k ➥ you finally get your happy ending.

✨ epilogue - us | wc 5.9k

✨ TIU deleted scene

➥ TIU Celebration | Podcast Episode

➥ drabbles 01 - jk + oc compete who thinks iseul will say mama/dada first 02 - jk telling his family he’s coming back home 03 - jk gives oc his photo album 04 - iseul's bedtime routine 05 - jk, joon + tae look after all the girls 06 - indie + hani meet baby iseul

➥ ama

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #fic: this is us #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts x reader #bts angst #jungkook romance #jungkook drama #jungkook noona #jungkook x y/n

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emwritesstuff · 5 months

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DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | part 1.

HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.

AO3 | Masterlist | Playlist (coming soon!)

notes: starting off a steve x reader/oc that I had lying around for a long time to cleanse our palates. (warnings: mentions of human experimentation, violence, cursing, stressed!steve rogers) (2.5K words)

1: THE CATALYST

In The Adventure of the Dying Detective, sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote: “I wonder how a battery feels when it pours electricity into a non-conductor.”

Well here’s how she feels, Doyle: exhausted – drained, if we’re getting scientific – and with a massive migraine. Sometimes nosebleeds, too. That’s how you feel whenever you use your abilities. It’s never a good time, and lately it’s been getting worse.

That’s why you’re back in this godforsaken place. Not exactly back. You’ve never been here; this specific facility was basically only an archive of sorts, and when you were still HYDRA you were confined to labs and larger, safer bases.

This place is really under everyone’s nose. It sits under a parking building in Detroit, right at the corner of a busy avenue. It’s a smart choice of location, because amidst the bustle of people coming and going for their cars, nobody looked at you twice as you went in, dropped into a maintenance hatch and ambled around until you found the heavy vaulted door you were looking for.

You’re positive there’s some information about you and the experiment you were a part – the shining star, truly – of, in here. When HYDRA fell and all of its secrets were leaked to the internet, you weren’t very worried about backing up your own records. You just wanted to live.

When you’ve spent most of your life being trained and turned into a human weapon, only ever seeing the real-world during the few missions you’ve gone on, places like McDonald’s and department stores become a whole new world of wonders once you get to experience them.

But now you needed them. Soon after the fall, however, most of the data was erased by hackers that were still affiliated with the organization. Lucky you.

However, every good terrorist knows to keep physical copies for safekeeping. And if the manila files stamped with your name were anywhere, they had to be here. Or in at least 3 other places just like this one, but you had already checked the first couple of them, and the other was blown to shit by Tony Stark and his little avenging friends.

They were really very good at that – blowing things up and causing havoc everywhere they went. Aliens, HYDRA, murderous crazed robots – whatever the enemy might be, something was sure to be exploding. And in the end, they’re still revered as heroes. Must be fun.

Anyway. Back to the files.

There’s immensurable amount of them, and they were meticulously organized, thank god, but you still decide you’d go through each one just in case.

You’re not in Assets. Also not in Agents. Or Work in progress.

Either way, it has to be here somewhere. Just maybe misplaced. Or concealed.

This place is basically your last hope, before you’re obligated to hunt down the hackers you know of and squeeze the information out of them instead. One of them has to have kept a copy somewhere, but these people were hard to find, and you are starting to feel like you’re running out of time.

The migraines and nosebleeds are getting more frequent, lasting longer, and hurting more. Not to mention the amount of times you lost control and fried every electronic on the vicinity. You could walk into a hospital, but that would probably mean getting dragged to the Raft as soon as the American government took notice of your existence.

And you seriously doubt any regular doctor would know how to deal with… whatever is going on with you.

You don’t miss your former life at all – but at least the scientists and doctors in HYDRA kept you somewhat stable. You survived this far, so someone is to blame.

It must be the adrenaline, but right now you feel great. No spots, no headache. Bouncing on your heels, bobbing your head to the music on your earbuds, while you rummage through an ocean of paper. The archive has been long abandoned, a thick layer of dust covering every surface you hadn’t touched. It’s dead quiet, too, and you start thinking you might spend the night.

It’s been a while since you’ve rested your head in a quiet place, where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder every two minutes. Yeah, that’d be fucking nice.

You’ve been on the run for god knows how long. In fact, you do know – it’s been a little over a couple of years since the public downfall of HYDRA, and everyone you used to know was either arrested, dead, or had gone underground like the rats they were.

You like to distance yourself from your former peers, mostly because if you knew they were all a bunch of Nazis – or if anyone had told you they were actually the bad guys – you probably would have found a way out sooner. Imagine your surprise, finally being free to live in the real world and finding out that everything you’ve been taught was fabricated. Still, authorities weren’t about to make that distinction so, like a HYDRA rat, you also went off the grid.

It’s safe to say you don’t really trust people these days.

You hate it, having to live in hiding. You’re not really very good at it, to be honest. It’s hard being coy, and you wear your heart on your sleeve; your face betrays you when your lack of skill for lying doesn’t. Half-truths and misdirection are the only things keeping your anonymity intact lately, and it works as long as you lower social interaction down to almost zero.

Having to decide whoever looks like they would ask the least amount of questions is exhausting. So is dodging those questions. Dodging bullets is easier. You’d backflip your way out of a full cartridge before facing a 10-minute conversation with someone.

You huff in frustration. The dust that now swirls in the air makes your eyes dry and your nose itch, you’ve already been through what’s probably a good fifty files and still, you found nothing. Not even a mention to your name or your identification number.

You scratch their faint marks on your forearm absentmindedly.

It should be here.

You’re starting to get a little offended, even.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?”

A male voice coming from the door gets you to stand in alarm. Its owner is tall and wears a navy tactical suit, and you can make out his striking blue eyes even in the dim light of the room. He’s carrying a shield, painted in red, white and blue.

You stare at Captain America, and he stares back. He’s blocking the door you entered from. From your earlier survey you know there’s a possible exit to your left, but you doubt you can get there before that oversized dinner plate of his slices you in half.

“Who are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Cap.”

He scowls at you and you give him a smile, a crooked thing that makes you look a little crazy. “Are you HYDRA? Nat— Yes. We got company.”

So, he came with a team. Cute. Just like the comics.

“Used to be, technically. I’m done with that life.”

He cocks his head. His gaze pierces through you like laser sight.

Now there’s someone you don’t want to be trapped in a conversation with.

“So why are you here?”

You sigh. Too many questions, not enough fucking off to wherever sunny green fields he lives with his superhero friends in.

“I must’ve left my library card in here somewhere. You’d think no one would care that much about Tolstoy, but they do.”

“Do you really think this is the time for jokes, agent?”

You watch him as he tightens his hand around his shield, and moves his feet towards you a few inches. “Ah ah – I wouldn’t do that.”

He takes another step, and you narrow your eyes.

“I don’t feel like fighting today, so. Don’t.”

“Aren’t you done with the life? You shouldn’t be considering me your enemy.”

“Do you rehearse those lines or what?”

Cap clenches his jaw. It brings you a strange kind of satisfaction to annoy him. A small victory, knowing you can get to him like that.

Yet you still feel like you’re a gazelle being hounded by a lion.

There’s still a considerable distance between you, but you know he’s strong and fast, stronger and faster than you, especially when you haven’t trained properly in so long.

And Captain America hates HYDRA. He wouldn’t hesitate in kicking your ass.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight. Come with me, and share your intel.” He puts his shield down, and you furrow your eyebrows.

He’s wrong. It always ends in a fight. That’s just how the world works.

“You might even get a lighter sentence.”

Of course. That’s what this was about: you giving them everything you know and then getting locked up. As a treat.

“I’ll pass. I do value my freedom, I’m sure you’ll understand. Considering.”

Gesturing vaguely to his outfit, you dip down to continue rummaging through the next box of files, even finding one with the 2006-7 New Year’s Eve Party planning, but nothing about your program. Priorities.

“I can’t let you walk out of this. I’m sure you’ll understand, considering.”

You snicker.

So much for having a good day with no headache.

On the wall to your left there’s an outlet. You put your hand over it, and the electric current floats towards your palm as if it was liquid. The lights start to flicker.

“What—” You hear Captain America stammer, and you chuckle. So blissfully ignorant.

He has no idea of the freak of nature you are. Well, not really of nature. You’re more of a synthetic made kind of freak.

More energy flows into you, and the room goes dark. You rise to your feet and watch electricity crackle around your fingers, illuminating your face with a blue glow. You don’t see the Captain anymore, but you do see the glint of the shield as it’s being lifted up.

You’re sure he sees you, but he’s probably too stunned trying to process what you just did.

“Apologies in advance.”

When you extend your arms in front of you, palms aiming to the spot where you think he might be, you can’t see much.

After power flashes out of you, everything is clearer. The bolts light up the space between you and him, much narrower than you calculated, and you have to adjust your position so you can hit him.

He gurgles and shakes like a fish out of water once it reaches him, blinding blue and white encasing his body like a cocoon. He drops to the ground.

It feels like hot water in your veins until it’s burning.

It hurts, it hurts like a bitch, and as Captain America is convulsing on the floor your groans turn to wails. You haven’t done this in a while, and you forgot how much pain there is when the fuel starts running out.

You stop after a few seconds, dropping your hands at your sides, and stumble into a metal shelf when your balance falters. You could never stand using your powers for very long. But this time you don’t have to. Cap is immobile on the floor, only his eyelids twitching. Maybe you went a little hard on him.

You’d feel more sorry if he didn’t want to arrest you.

At least he’s alive. That’s something.

You taste something ferulic and wet when you lick your lips. Nosebleed.

One. Two. Three.

Your heat starts throbbing, and suddenly even the dim light is too much on your eyes.

There’s the migraine.

You were almost returning to your search when you hear the faint voices coming from his intercom. Cap? Rogers, over. Steve, you there? Over.

Rogers groans, starting to stir up. You had to get out of there, and fast, before the rest of his friends came to the rescue.

Fuck it, you could always come back another time. Or even go after those hackers already, because you doubted this place would be up for much longer, now that the Avengers knew of its existence.

You wipe your nose on the sleeve of your hoodie, grab your backpack and slip through the left exit, leaving America there to deal with his own future headache.

It took a while for Steve Rogers to recover his senses. He gained control of his eyes first, finding himself staring at a humidity stained ceiling. His extremities were tingling, and his insides felt like soup.

The burning sensation on the surface of his skin subsides after a while. His heart is racing, and he can’t really remember the last time that happened. Or why. Right now, it’s because he just got attacked by a human defibrillator.

Steve? What’s going on, Cap? Over.

He needs a minute to realize the voices are in his earpiece, and not hallucinations in his head.

I’m starting to worry, Rogers. Over.

He groans, rolling over. “M’ here. Over.”

Steve hoists himself up, thinking the girl must’ve fried his pain receptors, because his toenails hurt. And his earlobes, and his right leg. He shakes his head as if his ears have water in them.

She’s gone. For a second, he even doubts she was there at all, but there are footprints on the dusty floor, leading all the way to a door on his right.

Who—?

“Damn, you look rough.”

“What the hell happened?”

Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes show up through the same hallway he had come from earlier.

“I—I got electrocuted, I think.”

“You think?!”

Steve picks up the shield, panting.

“There was a— girl. She’s some kind of enhanced. Can’t have gone far. I’ll explain later.”

His body regains its normal functions as he’s trudging through empty corridors, Bucky and Nat at his heels. He still feels a little frazzled, but it could be worse, and he’s thankful it was him and his serum-improved body at the receiving end of the lightning.

It could be so much worse.

As it turns out, the girl is nowhere to be found, not a trace to be followed even after the trio splits up to cover more ground. Bucky insists Steve needs to be checked at the med bay ASAP. Natasha assures him that they’ll clear out the facility afterwards, even if she’s convinced none of the paper files have anything of relevance anymore.

The girl seemed to be looking for something in there, though, and Steve remembers reading frustration and dread on her wide, doe-like eyes.

She didn’t even look like someone who could be an agent, though due to the too-large hoodie she wore there wasn’t much to analyze anyway. That gets him intrigued.

Steve has a hard time letting go of things. Especially open-ended things. He spent nearly two weeks obsessing over the ending of Blade Runner, because he needed a goddamned definitive answer.

He needs to know, like he needed to know if Deckard was human or replicant.

He’ll find her.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ll be seeing him and his team again. Maybe they’ll hunt you down, since there was a big demand for ex-HYDRA people they could fill jailcells with.

Whisking away along a maze of corridors and endless doors, you manage to find a second vaulted door. You leave the whole facility undetected, hopping out a window and disappearing in a back alley.

Maybe you are a rat.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #enemies to lovers #emwrites

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ganseybois · 2 years

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pynch moments from the dreamer trilogy that turned me into an insane person

to go with my very long raven cycle quote list here

Adam. Adam Parrish was the destination of this road trip. Is there any version of you that could come with me to Cambridge?

Adam. Ronan missed him like a lung.

He could feel his pulse thudding in his jaw. He could hear it in his ears. It sounded like everyone else’s heartbeat, he thought. Just like Adam’s heart when it was resting on his chest.

Ronan’s attention stuck on his hands. Lovely boyish hands with prominent knuckles, gaunt and long like his unfamiliar face. “Who’s that?” Gansey had asked, and Ronan hadn’t answered, just kept hanging out the window. As they passed, Adam’s expression was all contradictions: intense and wary, resigned and resilient, defeated and defiant. Ronan hadn't known anything about who Adam was then, and, if possible, he’d known even less about who he himself was, but as they drove away from the boy with the bicycle, this was how it had begun: Ronan leaning back against his seat and closing his eyes and sending up a simple, inexplicable, desperate prayer to God: please.

And now Ronan had followed Adam to Harvard.

“This is fucking weird,” Ronan said, and Adam laughed in a haggard, relieved way. They hugged, hard. This was as Ronan remembered it. Adam’s ribs fit against his ribs just as they had before. His arms wrapped aroun Adam’s narrow frame the same way they had before. His hand still pressed against the back of Ronan’s skull the way it always did when they hugged. His voice was missing his accent, but now it sounded properly like him as he murmured into Ronan’s skin: “You smell like home.” Home. Ronan felt even steadier. It was going to be all right. He was with Adam, and Adam still loved him, and this was going to work.

Beneath the table, Adam’s shoe was pressed hard up against Ronan’s.

Beneath the table, Adam pressed the rest of his leg up against Ronan’s, his expression unchanging as he did.

Leaning in close, he added, “Don’t kill anyone.” The words were only an excuse to breathe in Ronan’s ear; it made a marvel of his nerve endings.

Adam reached between them to take Ronan’s hand. They climbed the stairs; Ronan disentangled their fingers and instead put his arm round Adam so they climbed hip-to-hip. They stepped into Adam’s room; they made it no farther. In the dark, they tangled in each other for several minutes, and finally broke off when stubble had made lips sore. “I missed you,” Adam said, voice muffled, face pressed agianst Ronan’s neck.

The bed was right there; Adam felt warm and familiar; he longed for him even while holding him.

“What’s the face for?” “I want it too much,” Adam said.

Adam wiped one tear from Ronan’s right eye.

“Tell me to go to school closer to you and I will,” Adam said in a rush, the words piled together. “Just say it.” Ronan pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, checking for nightwash, but it wasn’t bad yet. “I’m not that big of an asshole.” “Oh, you are,” Adam said, trying for humor. Failing. “Just not about that.”

Ronan dreamt of summer, of Adam.

“Tamquam,” said Adam. “Wait,” said Ronan. “Tamquam,” he said again, gently. “Aler idem,” Ronan said.

Dreamt of you.

“I saved you because I love you.”

His mind stored away the first half for safekeeping, to take out and look at again on a rotten day.

It was possible that no two students at Agliony had ever come away with such a thorough understanding of Latin (or, possibly, of each other).

They hugged, hard. It was shocking to hold him. The truth of him was right there beneath Ronan’s hands, and it still seemed impossible. He smelled like the leather of the thrift store jacket and the woodsmoke he’d ridden through to get here. Things had been the same for so long, and now everything was different, and it was harder to keep up than Ronan had thought.

The idea of Adam Parrish on a motorcycle was more than enough birthday present for Ronan; he was senselessly turned on.

They hugged again, merrily, waltzing messily in the kitchen, and kissed, merrily, waltzing more.

“Parrish, that was fucked up,” Rona said. He laid a palm on Adam’s pale cheek. It, too, was frigid. Adam turned his face into Ronan’s eyes, his eyes shuttered.

And then Ronan was through and swiping away the tears before Adam joined him by the shoulder, emerging from the dark with the bright dreamt light cupped in his hands. “Break will be here in just a few days,” Adam said. He kissed Ronan’s cheek, lightly, and then his mouth. “I’ coming back. Be here for me.”

“Who would be attracted to you as a love match? Has he got crushingly low self-esteem? Is he one of those soft boys who hide in the firm pecs of their scary partners? Is he a witch? Did he say a spell wrong and you appeared and now you’re bound for life?” “Yeah,” Ronan said. “That one.”

A photograph of two young men as the lock screen. One was Ronan, laughing explosively. The other was a rather self-contained-looking fellow, striking in an unusual sort of way, smirking a bit at whatever he’d just said.

It was about Adam’s gloves here, but it was also Adam’s jacket tossed on a dining room chair, his soda can forgotten on the foyer table, him somewhere tossed with equal comfort in the Barns, his presence commonplace enough that he was not having to perform or engage with Ronan at all times. He was not dating Ronan; he was living in Ronan’s life with him. Shoes kicked off by the door, gloves off. A future. A good future. One Ronan had always liked thinking about.

Rona nthought about Adam’s gloves set upon his shoes in the mudroom. He thought about wanting to feel like he had been made for something more than dying.

Adam Parrish, who loved Ronan.

Adam Parrish was the person Ronan cared about more than anyone else in the world.

Elation overtook Ronan. Even before he put a name to the face, he was overwhelmed with a single thought: It is going to be okay. The second voice belonged to Adam Parrish.

He’d dreamt that watch for Adam when he left for Harvard. It was the closest he could come to a love letter; the language of affection had never felt right to Ronan. [...] But the watch, the watch told the time for whatever time zone Ronan was in, and it said exactly what Ronan meant to say. Think of where I am, it said. Think of me.

Adam suddenly leaned in very close to Ronan’s slumped body. His lips were right on Ronan’s ear. In this close space, even a whisper was audible to Declan, but his words were just for Ronan. “Post tenebras lux,” he whispered. Light follows darkness. Adam added, “Tamquam...” Alter idem, Ronan thought.

Both of them seemed more settled after this. Adam repositioned himself more comfortably, leaning his back between the framing on the opposite wall. His legs mingled with Ronan’s long legs, a chaos of young men. Then he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Yes, thought Ronan. Stay.

“There’s a real version of me that stayed with you.”

“You were, like, the place I stored all the reality in.”

This was his old accent, his Virgina accent, as warming to Ronan as the sun.

“I just missed--” He knocked his shoe against Ronan’s. Me too.

Adam had come for him. All this way. He had not given up. He had risked everything.

Yet when Adam’s consciousness touched his, Ronan recognized him. It was Adam’s footsteps on the stairs. His surprised whoop as he catapulted into the pond they’d dug. The irritation in his voice; the impatience in his kiss; his ruthless, dry sense of humor; his brittle pride; his ferocious loyalty.

Tamquam, said Ronan, and Adam said, Alter idem.

They were happy and sad, angry and forgiven, they were wanted, they were wanted, they were wanted.

“Adam. My Adam. Adam!”

Standing, she saw Ronan kneel next to Adam’s limp body to whisper something in his ear, too. Adam did not wake, but Ronan didn’t seem to expect him to. When Ronan lifted his head, she thought his face would be miserable, but it just looked furious.

He failed every time he saw Ronan again. He was in love with Ronan, and he was in love with this lonesome green valley.

There was a time when it would have made Hennessy feel bad to see how gratefully Ronan’s face was pressed into Adam’s neck. To see how Adam’s face just wore a raw relief, a peace, as he held on to Ronan, his eyes open and gazing up into the blue sky. To see Ronan finally say something into his ear and Adam close his eyes and sigh.

“You want one of these?” Gansey asked. He gestured with his chin to indicate it. The all of it. The wedding. “Yeah,” said Ronan. “I think so.” “Well, that’s a relief,” Gansey said. “How do you figure?” “I asked Adam and he said the same thing.”

Without taking his eyes off the sky, Ronan reached out his hand to Adam to offer him something. It was a ring. Without taking his eyes off the sky, Adam took it and put it on. They sighed. The stars moved overhead. The world felt enormous, both past and future, with their slender present hovering in the middle.

It was all very good.

#pynch #the raven cycle #the dreamer trilogy #ronan lynch #adam parrish #the dreamer trilogy quotes #greywaren #call down the hawk #mister impossible #pynch quotes #tdt #trc #richard gansey #squash1

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coldfanbou · 8 months

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MinaSaiyat IS Side Story: Girl's Day

A short side story about Jihyo and Dahyun spending some time together while OC was in japan with Mina

Stepping out into the sun, Jihyo made her way to the park. Dressed in a long skirt and white top, JIhyo would try to find a tree to wait under while Dahyun arrived. With you gone, the two women were going to spend some time together. They were used to hanging out, but now that they lived in two different places, it had become slightly more difficult to do so. Jihyo didn’t have to wait long; as she played a game on her phone, she noticed a person walk up to her. She couldn’t just pull her head away when she was so close to finishing the level, but the person’s head poked in front of the screen, taking her attention away. “Jihyo-unnie!” Forced to put her phone away, Jihyo stands up and hugs the younger woman. “It’s so nice to see you again!”

“It’s nice to see you too, Dahyun. Have you been doing well? A little lonely now that your step-brother is gone?”Jihyo teases the younger woman, nudging Dahyun's shoulder.

Dahyun smiles, her cheeks turning bright red. “It-I’m fine, Jihyo.” Dahyun shakes her head and looks at Jihyo again. “What did you have planned for today?”

“I thought it would be nice to go clothes shopping, maybe get some food after,” Jihyo replies.”Did you have something you wanted to do?”

“No, I wanted to know what you had planned, is all. Let’s go.” The women head off toward the mall, making small talk along the way. Store by store, they go through looking for something that they like, and occasionally find something, a shirt here, skirt there.

While they moved on to the next store, Jihyo stopped in place. She grabbed Dahyun’s shoulder. “Dahyun, let’s go in here next.” The younger woman turns her head to see a lingerie store.” Her face becomes red. “Don’t you think it would be nice to surprise him with a nice set of lingerie?”

“I’m not so sure about that, Jihyo,” Dahyun says hesitantly.

“You could use it on him when he comes back, Dahyun. Can you imagine it? He walks in to see his beautiful step-sister ready for him. You know he wouldn’t be able to resist you.” Jihyo’s word work on Dahyun.

The younger woman blushes at the thought of being ravaged. “Maybe we should just take a look,” Dahyun says quietly. Jihyo is grinning from cheek to cheek as she pulls Dahyun along into the store. They look through all kinds of different sets, trying a few on. “Jihyo-unnie!” Dahyun yells from the changing room. Jihyo walks over to the changing room, hands full of different sets.

“What do you need, Dahyun?”

“Can you tell me if I look good?”

“Of course, let me step inside.” Jihyo waits for Dahyun to open the changing room door; she looks to the floor as she steps inside and closes the door behind her. When she finally turns her head to Dahyun, she can’t help but smile. “Ah! You look so sexy, Dahyun!” Jihyo scans Dahyun’s body, taking in the sight. The lingerie that Dahyun had chosen to try on was all white, melting in her pale skin. Her rosy nipples and pink cunt stood out, both of them free to be touched. Dahyun’s bra and panties avoided these areas, making them easily accessible. A garter belt and stocking added to the look; it was almost as if it was a bride on her wedding day. “He would love to see you in that Dahyun.”

“Do you think so?”

“I know so,” Jihyo replies, giving Dahyun a thumbs up. “I’m going to try some on too. I’ll be in the next room over if you need me.” Jihyo leaves the room and heads over to change in one of the others. Now alone, Dahyun picks up her phone and snaps a few photos of herself. Each one shows off a different part of her body. The first is Dahyun leaning forward to show off her small cleavage while another has her turned around and showing off her ass. She debated for a moment whether to send them to you but decided against it in the end. She kept them on her phone for safekeeping. Jihyo, meanwhile, kept trying different lingerie on. One of them, similar to Dahyun’s, showed off her nipples and cunt. Jihyo shook her breasts back and forth, thinking of how much you would like it. She also tried on a sheer nightgown with the smallest panties she could find. It was barely visible from the right angles. A knock on the door spooks Jihyo. “Who is it.”

“It’s me, Jihyo-unnie. I’m done looking around.”

“Ah, okay. Dahyun, tell me how I look.” Dahyun opens the door to Jihyo’s changing room just enough for her to peek through.

“Wow, You would really wear that for him?” Jihyo smirks at Dahyun’s question.

“Yep, I think he would really enjoy it. Alright, I think I’m done too.” They gather their things and head out of the changing area before being stopped by a worker.

“Excuse me, did you try all of these on?” She says, pointing toward the sets. Jihyo and Dahyun nod their heads. “Unfortunately, we don’t allow that unless you bought them beforehand. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to buy them all.” The staff member points toward a sign beside the changing rooms sign that makes mention of their rule. “If something didn’t fit well though, like a pair of panties or bra, we do offer a new replacement to them.” Jihyo and Dahyun looked at each other, shocked, before heading over to the cash register to buy everything they had tried on. Jihyo felt her heart drop; she had tried on so many different kinds. Dahyun frowned; she hadn’t tried on that many, but it definitely made her budget a bit smaller.

The women stepped out of the store feeling a little defeated. “How about we go to your place Dahyun? I don’t think I want to shop anymore.” Dahyun nods her head, and the two make their way to Mina’s apartment. Once they arrive, Dahyun drops everything in her room before returning to see Jihyo looking around. “This place is nice.”

“It is, but it’s also a little lonely with Oppa gone.”

“Finally admitting it?” Dahyun tilts her head to the side and falls onto the couch after hearing Jihyo’s response. “How…how did you end up falling in love with him?” Dahyun’s head shoots up, and she stares at a shy JIhyo who refuses to look her way.

“Well, he’s always been there for me and Chaeyoung. How could I not love him? It’s just recently that I told him and…”

“Yeah, we know how that’s gone.” Jihyo chuckles.

“What about you, Jihyo-unnie? I’ve only heard the story from Oppa.”

“Whatever he’s told you is probably everything. I had a cheating husband who had us move away from my family to control me. It was only when I met him that I started to get that freedom back. He treated me really well and said all the right things. I don’t think I would be where I am without him, and I want to spend my life with him.” Jihyo glances at Dahyun, who’s staring back at her, and laughs. “It’s kind of funny having this conversation with someone else who feels the same way about him.”

“...yeah it is. I want to spend my life with Oppa too. I never thought I had a chance and was ready to support him on the side. I know that even now, our parents would never support us, but…” Jihyo sits beside Dahyun, putting her arm around the younger woman’s shoulder.

“Look at you now, though, having sex with him and going out on dates. You’re enjoying your life with him, Dahyun. Don’t worry about those things too much.” Jihyo takes a deep breath, “Let’s both try our best, Dahyun.” Dahyun nods in agreement. The women sit in silence before Dahyun leaves to get water. Jihyo turns on the TV and finds something to put on to get rid of the previous atmosphere and enjoy the rest of the day together.

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prince-kallisto · 11 days

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Location of the Princess Glow and Malleus’ ‘Resurrection’

After watching Fairy Gala, I found it very interesting that Crowley mentions he keeps the magestone controlling the school’s weather in the Mirror Chamber. We do not get to see where this is actually stored, but he keeps it here specifically for safekeeping, as there are many rules of who can be allowed in the Mirror Chamber and when.

But then it hit me- if Crowley has as much of a connection to Meleanor as it’s theorized…what if the infamously missing Princess Glow is in the Mirror Chamber? Or specifically, in its Mirror Chamber’s chandelier?

With the Meleanor in the Dark Mirror theory and the Crowley-Levan theory, I’ve seen it proposed that Meleanor’s missing Princess Glow is in the Mirror Chamber. We have little information about the Princess Glow, but the goal of attaining it was one of the many unfortunate reasons why Henrik wanted to lay siege on Briar Valley in the first place.

Apparently, it can grant wishes and heal wounds and sicknesses that would normally be incurable. It’s a very powerful magestone/crystal, and affixed to Meleanor’s staff. We have yet to see that actual power of the Princess Glow, but it must be an incredibly powerful artifact if this is indeed the case.

This is one event that has been consistent through all mediums of TWST (game, manga, novel): The “heart” of the chandelier in the school’s cafeteria breaking. It is THE event forcing Yuu, Deuce, and Ace (then Grim), to go to the abandoned mine to fetch a new magestone by the order of Crowley. It is also where the mysterious first Overblot of the game appears, and the one we’ve had the least answers to. This Dwarf Miner phantom is also where Grim gets his first taste of a blot crystal 👀 However, it also forces all four of them to work together in a common goal, something Crowley remarks as a rarity.

What I mean to say is that the chandelier is the “core” setting up A LOT of concepts in the game. Within all three mediums of TWST, it’s not unusual for storyplots to be tweaked or outright removed. But the chandelier breaking is consistent plot in all three:

The game has Ace, Deuce, and Grim accidentally breaking the chandelier through a fight, an event infamously known throughout the school with a rumor of “stupid freshmen” breaking the extremely expensive chandelier on their first day. Crowley specifies how one-of-a-kind this chandelier is, its light meant to burn for *eternity.* An interesting detail 👀

In the manga, this is a scene that’s condensed for smoother storytelling and less panels, but Ace, Deuce, and Grim set the Queen of Hearts on fire, and as punishment, Crowley sends us to the mines to get a magestone for the chandelier. Here, apparently the chandelier has been slowly dying out, which is very different from the game- but I think the fact that the “heart” of the chandelier slowly dying could be a relevant metaphor as well 👀

The novel sticks much more closely to the game, where Deuce, Ace, and Grim break the chandelier, breaking the gemstone fueling it. The novel has incredible details regarding the gemstone itself and Crowley’s reactions to it.

HOWEVER! I’d like to mention several caveats to this, just because I’m still very confused about it haha 🤣 Meleanor’s staff has very similar shape language to the fountain below. But, when it’s night, the cafeteria chandelier that serves as the catalyst to the prologue, the yellow light turns green. The shape and color of this chandelier looks similar to the Princess Glow, doesn’t it? Almost like it’s suggesting where it is.

But in the infamous Malleus artwork, there’s clearly a light coming from above that’s shining down onto his chest. However, the position of the light seems to suggest it’s coming from above? It’s coming from the ceiling somewhere though…the light is also here with all the dorm leaders, mirror, and a raven with a key, the light is also present here and coming from above and shining on Malleus.

I wondered if the light was coming from the Dark Mirror itself, but the light overlays the mirror in the work. HOWEVER, the in-game scene in the prologue seems to suggest the light being from Mirror. so…I’m not really surely where this light is coming from NAHXJD 🤣 But considering how it’s been a consistent part in promotional art of the game, there must be great importance to this light.

I also checked in-game assets that @alchemivich has found, and the chandelier in the Mirror Chamber is remarkably detailed and beautiful, and we can see better how the light shines on it in the game. It resembles flowers, doesn’t it? A proud, beautiful flower of evil…?

Anyway, as I’m sure that you’ve guessed by now, the reason I think the Princess Glow is somewhere in the Mirror Chamber is because of this mysterious light. Henrick says he saw “the light of the Princess Glow,” and knew Meleanor had it in her staff. And in all these images I’ve shown above, in the incredibly mysterious prologue and promotional art, there’s always this ray of light shining down over the *Dark Mirror*

This theory depends heavily on the concept of Meleanor being in the Dark Mirror, of course. The Princess Glow is said to cause miracles…and could the miracle include a very slow yet sure resurrection from the dead…?

And speaking of resurrection, TWST is very fond of using that piece of promotional art of Malleus rising from the coffin. It’s used in A LOT of trailers of all kinds. Many have pointed out that this adds a lot to Malleus’ heavy biblical symbolism surrounding him. But @/hanafubukki and @/moonlightequin1 mentioned this artwork to me, of the six coffins in the background and Malleus rising from the 7th one. In the recent soundtrack teaser, there’s this mysterious new scene of the coffins rising…but only 6 of them. The 7th is missing, which may be the coffin Malleus is rising from.

But then it hit me. For a long time now, I’ve had a bad feeling about Malleus’ fate in book 7. I’m not sure- but I feel like Book 7 won’t have the traditional “closure” that most of the Books do? And then I remembered: in the Book 7 trailer, there’s a split-second shot where NRC’s coffin gates are hidden in the background of the dark abyss Malleus is trapped in. Why are these coffins relevant to him specifically? 👀

Unless…remember how Book 7 says that Malleus’ barrier and sleeping spell can only be broken in two ways: either he puts down the barrier himself, or he “disappears” in the process of forcibly removing the spell. If Malleus truly reaches a bad ending…would his rising from the coffin be taken more literally? The light of the Princess Glow can cause miracles, and I’m sure TWST wouldn’t kill off one of the students- especially Malleus. STYX and Ortho have all agreed that the best and only course of action to take it to try and convince Malleus to put down the barrier himself- and I fully agree that the other students, especially Yuu & crew, have no intentions of genuinely hurting him. But something feels off to me, and I don’t know what it is! >_>

I mean, so far we haven’t seen the other students suffer from terrible effects from their own blot afterwards. Idia was surrounded by heaps of blot, but his own curse that consumes blot may have helped on that manner. Malleus however, essentially has an infinite cycling supply of magic since he can feed of the nature of the world, so his barrier keeps expanding without him running out of magic. will this affect somehow? 😭

He DID get that weird glitch that only Yuu has had in his fight against Ortho. It’s been brought up time and time again of how fatal blot can be, literally consuming the Overblotted mage. We have yet to see this consequence in action, so I wonder if Malleus would be the first…? Back to the trailer, he is in a dark abyss, before getting trapped in a cage of his own thorns (and with the NRC coffins in the background). Hana also mentioned to me that this may be where “true loves kiss” comes around again with Malleus- which I also think connects to the “Sleeping Death” from both Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Crowley has been established to be the one in control of the coffins, and the one who unlocks them. Was Malleus put in a coffin for his own safety or “resurrection” in Book 8???????? Why is one coffin missing in the soundtrack teaser???????? Why is he in the coffin I NEED ANSWERS AUGHH

I don’t know, I feel like I wrote all of this leading to no where because I undermined my own theory several times BAJXJD 🤣 It’s all just me desperately reaching and vaguely connecting information, but I just have that *feeing* 🤣🤣 I still can’t figure out where the prologue is going with all this >_> In a different theory, someone suggested to me another possibility for the Princess Glow that I recommend 🫶

#this is a little incoherent and a long ramble I apologize IM SHAKING THE BARS OF MY CAGE ARGHHH #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst malleus #twst malleus draconia #twst princess glow #twst dark mirror #twst meleanor #kallistopost

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unidentifiedly · 2 months

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And many eventful nights to come

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah saves you from a "dangerous" situation. The man is smitten. Continuation to Eventful Morning.

Around a week later it was apparent Sean had kept his word. No one seemed to know or whisper about something having happened between you and Micah, and that was for the best. Arthur and John were still calling him names, Javier and Dutch were pretty much indifferent to him. Sean didn't tease him at all, but honestly you doubted anyone noticed, since he was being his old annoying self otherwise.

The day was set to be an exciting one. You and the girls were going to go shopping for new clothes, since a traveling salesman was visiting Valentine, the nearby town.

Atop your trunk near the mirror was your trinket box, in which you also stored some of the money you earned and had put in for safekeeping. This, you decided, was a good occasion to spend some of that money. You needed to buy at least two blouses and an overdress.

"Maybe it wasn't so bad what happened with Mr. Bell at the river after all." You caught yourself mid thought and almost slammed the trinket box shut, the metallic lock clicking shut with a bit too much force.

The feeling of wet fabric sticking to your cold skin, goosebumps traveling down your arms to your sides and onward to your legs. The early morning sun, and his arms...-

his arms holding you up from falling, his eyes all over your body.

"Why is my heart beating so hard?"

Shaking you away from the memory was Tilly calling for your name.

"Come on Y/N! Don't wanna be there too late, all them pretty dresses are going to be gone before we ever even see them!"

You stuffed the dollars to your pouch you carried with you, glancing at your gunbelt on the cot, taking a second to think.

"Whatever, there'll be many of us going', doubt i'll need that." Stomping out of the tent you made your way through the camp, past the fire pit and common area and grabbed Karen's outstretched hand, helping yourself onto the carriage.

Green fields upon green fields, a country road, not a cloud in the sky. The vast wide landscape shaping into mountains in the horizon, a couple of lush thickets here and there. Oh how you loved spring.

Upon arriving in Valentine you jumped down first, your bootheels sinking into the trampled upon mud. You corrected the hem of your red corduroy dress, helping Tilly and Karen down to the ground. Arthur and John who had been driving the carriage walked over, and bid their adieus after you all agreed to meet back at the same spot after an hour. You and the girls headed straight down the main street toward the vendor, who had set up shop on the vacant spot close to the sheriff's office.

Building after building were equipped with porches on stilts, to stop some of the mud from entering the interior perhaps, you thought. A couple of men passed out drunk by the saloon, and old woman smoking in front of the convenience store. On the opposite side of the street a motel, nice enough, and in front of it a gang of younger looking men.

You smiled to yourself, as one of them shot a look toward Karen. Always the looker.

With a skip in your step you took both the girls by their arms, smiling and laughing together.

Lifting the canvas to get into this tent was not necessary. The vendor had set up an open tent with tables filled with blouses, dresses, trousers and shoes of all different kinds. The vendor himself a lean dark skinned man with a thin moustache.

"Welcome, welcome, my ladies. What could I help you with today? A new dress, perhaps an embroidered blouse? The catalogue is large."

After deciding on some items, a red fabric caught your attention. Hidden beneath other clothes, you gently moved them away to uncover a bright vermilion blouse. Made from sturdy cotton and with patch-reinforced elbows, the shirt was undoubtedly of high quality. "How much for this one?" You asked, turning toward the shopkeeper.

"For you my dear, I will give a discount!" Pressing his hands together, closing his eyes: "Thirty and five dollars."

"Oh, I see, a bit too much then." You squeezed your hand around the pouch in your pocket, only containing a five dollar bill after splurging on the two blouses, overdress and new trousers you held on your other arm.

"Here." A grunt from behind you, and a man's arm placed bank notes and coins on the shopkeeper's outstretched hand. Looking pleased, the vendor offered the shirt, your eyes following the red of the fabric only to meet up with more red.

"Mr. Bell, please!" You huffed. "You have to stop scaring me like this!" Your complaints met with a smirk and a wink from under the rim of his dirty cowboy hat.

All of a sudden, a bang rang out, and women started screaming. Your eyes searched for the source of the scream, hands feeling for your trusty revolver, only to be met with air. "Fuck," you cursed after remembering you had decided to leave it in the camp.

"Eek!" A strong arm pulled you close and lifted you up on horseback. Micah stepped up on his horse's saddle, already swinging the reins for speed. "Hold on darlin'!" "You don't have to tell me twice!" Your arms hugging him tightly to keep yourself on Baylock. You caught a glimpse of Arthur tackling a guy to the ground while John was helping Karen up.

"Micah! We have to go help them!" Not turning around he slowed down until Baylock maintained a steady gait. Bringing the speed to a stop he jumped off, holding a hand out to you. You ascended as gracefully as one could, not taking his hand.

"Respectfully, Mic- Mr. Bell, you cannot keep doing this. Creeping up on me and causing me heart palpitations and awkward situations!"You huffed, red cheeked and arms crossed under your chest.

"Ya seem to like it, though, judging by the blush on yor cheeks."

"I- I don't know!" You blurted.

"Let me take ya out darlin'." Seeing your the doubting look in your eyes, he continued: "Nothin' weird, I swear."

Was this too good to be true? Sure, his methods of getting your attention were unorthodox but he wasn't exactly the most normal guy in the world. Glancing up at his eyes, shifting your weight to your right leg, you answered.

"Sure, Mr. Bell. Why not."

The seconds of uneasiness in his eyes turned into a few seconds of joy, and quickly back into his usual cocky self.

"Ya ain't gonna regret it. Quit the Mr. Bell bullshit though, call me Micah."

You nodded, and he motioned for you to get back onto the horse. You climbed up, yelping in the process after a palm made it's way firmly onto your rear, slapping and squeezing it. "Micah!"

"Ya like it, girl, quit yappin'."

Your arrival to the camp wasn't the quietest. Arthur yelling at Micah to swear he hadn't corrupted you, the girls calling him a dirty old man, and you just walking to your tent, giving Micah a joking smile and a wink from the doorway. His eyes looking past everyone questioning him and his motives, a sneaky smile spreading across his lips, a plan forming in his head.

Now there was a goal. He stuffed the new red shirt into his jacket and pushed past the people. He sat next to the fire and put his legs up, lighting a cigarette, angling himself so that he had a clear view of your tent.

And with everybody else gone to sleep, he downed the rest of his beer, saluting himself. "For an eventful night, and for many eventful nights to come." He got up, heading toward that tent with the light on with his signature smirk on his face.

#micah bell #rdr2 #micah bell x reader #arthur morgan

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pumpkincurryelote · 3 months

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Furthering the world-building thought experiment of Midwives as an independent organization or governing body in a stateless/moneyless world: Imagine their purview extending not just to birth, but to abortion, women's health, women's history, and women's liberation by force where necessary up to and including the execution of rapists. Exclusively female membership, living in facilities akin to non-religious convents. In fact the most powerful of any large organization. How their services/protection might be engaged would vary depending on region. If this be a post-patriarchy world, they would be the first line of defense against the resurgence of said disease.

Farmers would be second most powerful. As permaculturists in a world where everything is locally sourced, and they would be responsible for protecting biodiversity of both flora and fauna in their biomes. There is no mass production of anything in this model. Wild animals are respected members of the community alongside domesticated ones. They monitor and survey the land, on guard for outbreaks and potential disasters, tending the food forests and keeping the biome healthy. They deliver non-human medical care to every creature in the land. Their voices are heard first on the floor of any development project and they can set hard boundaries or veto projects outright. While not explicitly stated to be female only, females would nonetheless outperform males in this field. Even in hunting.

Next up is Libraries. Librarians collect, organize, and administer all manner of public resource, not just books. Knowledge, tools, furniture, clothes, technology, seeds, genetic material, whatever is needful. They keep mundane records of everyone in their community, and community members can deposit personal logs for safekeeping here. Indeed anything the community deems of utmost value may be stored here. Every library is built to withstand assault, and to protect its contents-- a last resort lockdown would fully seal the library from the outside world for 100 years, killing anyone inside. The identities of chief librarians with access to sensitive collections (and the ability to lock their library down) are shrouded in secrecy. Field librarians go out on expeditions to collect data, specimens, etc where permitted by a region's Farmers (and always with a Farmer in attendance).

Hospitals are fourth, and we all know what they're supposed to do. Universities are arguably fifth, and bosom buddies with Libraries. Universities would be the only "large cities" you ever see, and are major transportation hubs. Any large scale project happens here-- rocket to the moon large. Trains occupy this status bracket as well, being the main arteries of civilization/transportation. Ocean cargo could be an extension or a symbiotic relationship.

Of equal influence are Mail and Sanitation. The postal service delivers through whatever means necessary. Any interference with another person's mail results in brutal application of force. No matter how isolated or alone you think you are, the post service will find you. If anybody at all sends you a message, you WILL receive it. They're the best trackers in the world. Many have working dogs as companions. Some have birds. All of them tend to be loners unless someone has done them dirty or behaves dishonorably.

Sanitation encompasses recycling/repurposing of non-compostable goods, composting itself (composting toilets are the norm), janitorial work, pandemic/outbreak containment, and burials (where applicable). If there's a landfill or old oil spill that needs remediation, they're there. Many have skill in repairs/fabrication, and choose this life to have first pick of scavenged parts. Many are also skilled at soapmaking, extractions (Greek oregano, eucalyptus, wintergreen, etc.), and distillation (vinegar).

#radblr #radfem safe #solarpunk #anti capitalism

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spotsupstuff · 9 months

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Imagine if tarrows forgot shes not a slugcat, and absent mindedly tried to store a pearl in her stomach for safekeeping and nearly choking.

the only time i can imagine it happening is before Sparrows would leave the Void Pools cuz otherwise she has that fuckin.. rebreather mask constantly on. it would tunk against that before it'd get the chance to get into her mouth. so here's some ouchies

#spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #how the shit do i tag her physical state.#// starvation //#???? feckin.....#ask to tag #// nudity //#// choking //#tarrows' body is around the same age as when she fights off euros' 1st rot (so around 60) but Shit girl looks like 100 here #it feels weird drawin her not buff but... this is in general how she looks in this au. she wont ever manage to regain that muscle mass #TO BE CLEAR REAL QUICK: its not actually like. tinkerers spirit pullin up or anythin its more like a slugcat mindset/instincts vs an-#-ancient's santient thinking. two modes of existing goin against each other. n since sparrows is so terribly on it the slugcat wins

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mikagero · 4 months

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when i start to fall in love with you

nagireo | 1.8k

The first thing that fills the room once Reo enters is intermittent beeps and video game sound effects. Taking a couple steps and peering down the row of lockers, he spots what he’s been waiting exactly six and a half hours for.

Nagi Seishiro is hunched over on one of the benches, still in his school uniform, seemingly very engrossed in whatever he’s playing on his phone. Something flashes across the screen momentarily, and his eyebrows furrow slightly.

He’s here.

“Ah, I died,” Nagi mumbles to himself.

“Nagi!” Reo chirps, upon taking a seat and sliding next to him. It’s only then until Nagi acknowledges his presence with a slow blink, as if he was still in a daydream.

“How come you’re still wearing your school uniform?” Reo looks Nagi up and down, gesturing to his clothes, “I gave you my locker key, so you could change before I got here, remember?”

At that, Nagi sets his phone down on the bench, and ruffles around his hoodie pocket, holding the key up. “I know, but you were going to come anyway.”

It doesn’t really offer much of an explanation but Reo supposes that’s fine. They’re going to play soccer today, so he’s absolutely positive nothing could put a damper on his mood. “Okay, then hand it,” Reo says, holding his palm out, as he takes it from his hand and slides the key into his locker.

Earlier in the morning, Reo had stored both his and Nagi’s uniform here for safekeeping, until after school they had made arrangements to meet and go over some of the basics, with Nagi holding true to his promise.

“C’mon, up Nagi!” Reo unbuttons his vest as he turns to the side, to see Nagi still sitting, catching his gaze on him, staring blankly into space— or lost in thought?

“Hey, Reo… I know you said we were going to play soccer but, do I have to wear a uniform? I’m fine with my hoodie,” He drawls.

“Ah no, no, you’re changing. Plus, you don’t want your regular clothes to get full of grass or dirt, right?”

Nagi pauses, contemplating Reo’s words as if he couldn’t argue, before he gets up and stands next to him. “Which one’s mine?” Nagi murmurs, eyes raking over the neatly folded uniforms placed on top of each other, as if with gentle care.

Reo hands him the pair of jersey and shorts, the ones bolded with the number seven. “Yours.” Reo flashes a smile. They both get changed quite quickly, despite Nagi’s initial lethargicness and yawns while he pulls the shirt over his head, to which Reo laughs at.

Because the soccer team hasn’t been officialized just yet— Reo has to hand in the team’s application form, now including Nagi’s, they haven’t hosted official practices. But Reo’s pulled a few strings to have the soccer field open for their use until they set a schedule.

Once they’re done, Reo grabs the ball and bends down to sling his bag full of gear over his shoulder, making sure they have everything. But once he rises, he meets deep gray. They’re close, really close. The tips of their shoes are just barely touching.

Reo gasps, a sharp intake of breath. Despite only knowing the boy for a couple days, Reo wasn’t acutely aware of their minimal height difference. Nagi was always sitting down, and when he was standing, his shoulders were always a bit slouched. He didn’t pay much mind to it, granted the first thing he did when he met Nagi was swing his arm around him, but this?

It’s different, quiet. It’s only the two of them.

From this angle, Nagi’s eyes seem impossibly dark. Reo has to tilt his chin up slightly to meet his gaze. He gets the fleeting thought of wondering what they would look like when the sun brings light to them, the rays catching in his eyelashes. Like when the curtains are drawn only slightly in the morning, flecks of light peeking through the room. But Reo is a different kind of person. He wants to yank them wide open, letting everything all in at once.

He decides right then and there the dim lighting from the locker room wouldn’t do them justice.

“We’re ready?” Nagi asks, softly, which brings Reo out of his thoughts. “Yeah.” Reo blinks. Once— twice, “That should be my line though,” Reo says, regaining his energy.

Right. We’re going to play soccer. Showing Nagi the basics.

Swiftly taking a few steps to maneuver around Nagi, Reo leads them out onto the field. Even though it’s nearing the beginning of spring, the trees lining the high fencing surrounding it are still bare. Yet, the wind carries a sense of warmth to it, promising blooming flowers.

Last year, he thought cherry blossom season arrived too quickly. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, no. But, it seemed a bit short-lived. The pink petals adorning the trees came and went a bit fast during his first year.

Reo prefers the slow build up to the changing of seasons, even though he had a liking for chillier months. It’s much more pleasant to have that moment where it seems just a bit warmer outside and then you think to yourself— it must be spring soon.

Setting down the ball a few strides away from his feet, he looks out to Nagi standing a distance away from him. “Okay, so I’m going to angle the foot I’m not kicking the ball with in the direction where I’m aiming,” Reo says, planting his left foot on the ground just for effect, demonstrating to Nagi.

“Also, remember to strike the ball just slightly below the laces of your shoes.”

“I see,” Nagi replies, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, awaiting Reo’s next move.

And Reo believes him, despite the short answer. If there’s anything to go by, what Nagi did with trapping his phone perfectly a couple days ago, everything else could come second nature.

Too many details aren’t important now— besides, they only just met, neither of them needed long-winded explanations on anything. Everything fell into place. Reo would give his soul to keep it that way too.

They trade a couple passes just to warm up, and as expected, Nagi keeps up with the rhythm Reo sets. He takes a few shots at the goal too, getting it in every time.

But there’s something Reo is dying to try with him. It’s been on his mind all damn day.

“Nagi,” Reo says, excitement seeping into his tone, “I’m upping the difficulty from here on out.”

Again, Nagi nods his head in affirmation, but this time Reo notices an almost imperceptible change in his posture. As if they’re sharing the same surge of energy, he brings himself up just a bit higher.

Reo loves it. For the first time in his life, he’s having the exact play in his mind be understood by another, unequivocally. Gone were the days of just simply writing tactics in a notebook.

So when he sends the ball with a lobbying pass, high into the sky, he watches Nagi’s graceful form, not taking his eyes off the sight for a mere second. He jumps into the air, trapping it, killing all the momentum Reo put into his pass, and turns it into something indescribable.

Coming back down to the ground, when Nagi shoots with the might of someone that could be so lazy, slamming the ball right into the net, Reo can’t help himself. He digs the heels of his cleats into the turf and breaks out into a run.

They’re not even playing an actual match or up against any opponents right now, but it’s beyond exhilarating. It feels different than beating the final level of the Mikage VR lab’s soccer stadium. Something unearthed, a raw discovery.

Reo had spent his life being handed everything the world had to offer. But no, Reo didn’t look at the world, Reo yearned beyond the planet they lived on, to grasp something between own two hands and have it be his.

The universe held blessings within its arms, to those who traveled beyond the confines of comfort and only the things they knew, they would be able to hold the light in their hands. But here, Nagi Seishiro was an anomaly. A genius, born among stars, among miracles and things ordinary people could just wish upon— wishes to not travel through space, to never see what he’s capable of.

A treasure worth becoming of achieving dreams, I want him to be mine.

They lock eyes and Reo’s electrified, surged with gray yet again, he’d let storm clouds envelop him ten-fold if it means the breath could be taken out of his lungs and replaced with everything that makes up Nagi.

“Nagi! That was—”

Reo had the intention of jumping on Nagi’s back in celebration but suddenly at his call, Nagi turns to face Reo. His eyebrows shoot up immediately, obscured beneath his white bangs.

But Reo’s too far pumped with adrenaline to care, he leaps into his arms, using Nagi’s shoulders to propel himself up high. For a moment, Nagi is unsure what to do, his eyes wide open. But then Reo feels it, strong hands wrap around his waist to steady him.

“Amazing. Perfect,” Reo almost-whispers, with near reverence.

He’s out of breath still, not from exertion, but there’s a different kind of strength needed to keep his eyes from flitting to Nagi’s lips. And the slight, subtle squeeze he gets in return from the hands on his waist isn’t helping.

“I just did what Reo told me to,” Nagi shrugs, or at least tries to with Reo’s weight still pressing on him.

“You know, not just anyone could do that.” Reo leans in closer, their foreheads almost touching. No, he’s certain no one could. “It’s a little criminal you’re this good at soccer already.”

“Listen, we’re going to be the best in the world together, the two of us.”

Nagi holds Reo’s gaze, and from here, Reo could count his eyelashes, if he moved just close enough to touch. To graze his fingers across his cheek.

Winning the World Cup doesn’t seem so far away anymore.

But instead, Reo rests his chin on the top of Nagi’s hair just for a second, and wraps his arms around his neck in a hug. “Got that, my treasure?”

Nagi startles for a second. Reo can’t make out his expression from here but he’s worried he might’ve said something wrong. He feels Nagi still underneath him and tense up, before a hand slides up Reo’s back, slow and gentle.

He swears he might be imagining it all, but Nagi holds Reo just a bit tighter. What was supposed to be a simple goal celebration, a jump on his shoulders, turned into an embrace Reo’s slowly falling deeper and deeper into.

“We will,” Nagi says. “The best in the world together.”

And for the second time that day, Reo believes him, wholeheartedly.

#nagi seishiro #reo mikage #nagireo #reonagi #nagireo fic #bllk fic #slight differences from canon

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voidopod · 10 months

Text

A Garden Break ||Fluff|| Viktor x Reader

Cross posted on AO3 but thought I should post here too :) Apologies if my formatting is silly, I’m learning.

Viktor is getting noticeably frustrated with his work and you insist he take a break for a while. He protests but eventually gives in and you two share some oranges in the academy gardens.

——

“I just can’t seem to get the claw to focus on the movement of the gem right.” Viktor sighs as he sits back in his chair, staring at the in-progress Hexclaw with an exasperated look.

It was only days before Progress Day. Viktor and Jayce were both scrambling about to complete each of their prototypes to show off to Professor Heimerdinger on the day of so that they may get the approval they need to proceed in proper production of their respective creations that they are building. Jayce is making steady work on the Atlas Gauntlets, currently clanging away across the room at testing its durability. Viktor, on the other side of the room, is trying to practice the precision of the Hexclaw laser. Though, for some currently undetermined reason, it’s not following the gem attached to the glove properly which is causing the aim to be off completely. Viktor is getting noticeably frustrated with the Hexclaw as you notice the way his leg is tapping away with more speed and that the hand fidgeting with his hair is subconsciously tugging a little more. He’s glancing between the Hexclaw and his notes with a glare, not doing anything more with his hands, but you know he’s trying to formulate in his head what’s going wrong and how to fix it. He puts his hand on his face as he rubs at his temple, hoping the solution will come to him.

“You know I don’t think stressing over it for hours is going to get you anywhere Viktor.” You quip, his mildly annoyed gaze shooting towards you at your words.

You had been working at the academy since just before the birth of Hextech as an archivist and not long after Hextech got the funding it needed and proper research and production began, you were transferred to begin archiving any Hextech research that was at a point that it could be stored away in safekeeping. Though with the small scale work environment, you were left retrieving various archived works more often than archiving things yourself. You were also quite frequently an assistant of sorts, largely just fetching little things here and there or holding a sheet of metal in the exact angle that one of the boys needed it to be held in. It was an easy job that you enjoyed due to the relaxed environment (though I suppose that’ll happen when there’s usually only a max of four people in the room at a time) and because you had quickly become friends with Jayce, Sky, and, most notably, Viktor. You weren’t sure if it was because of how he could quickly captivate anyone by proving with even just a few words that he was the smartest in the room at any given time, the way his drive for his own work made you want to be a better and more attentive person, or if it was the how he looked at you when you had first both met. You didn’t realize at the time that he was analyzing every word you said and how you reacted to various different things but it was an intense first day with him that stuck with you for days.

“And how do you propose I figure out the solution? This has to be stabilized in just a few days and right now, it is the exact opposite.” His words come out a little sharp but you know how he gets when he’s frustrated by his own creations, you’ve seen it time and time again. His ungloved hand moving about as he speaks, coming to an abrupt downward halt when he’s done.

“I think your best option right now is to take a break.” He looks at you like you’ve just suggested he could fly to the moon right now as he processes your words. You smile at him, despite how he’s looking at you, as you lean against his desk.

“Just to be sure I’m hearing you right, you want me to stop what I’m doing so I can do a better job at getting this done? No, I need to get this done, now.” He turns to look back at the Hexclaw, choosing to ignore your idea.

You wave your hand in his face and he quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed look. “Viktor do you hear that?” He looks confused and shakes his head at you. You point your finger towards him with a cheeky smile. “Exactly. There’s no loud clanging anymore. You know why that is? It’s because this entire time that you were getting frustrated with your own work, you didn’t notice that Jayce had completely left to go take his own break. He noticed he was getting frustrated that the gauntlet wasn’t doing what it was supposed to and instead of stressing over it, he chose to take a thirty minute break so he can clear his head and come back to it.”

His expression changes a little as he glances back at the Hexclaw and then back towards you, crossing his arms, his foot tapping a little faster. He seems a little bothered but judging by his expression, he’s realizing you might be somewhat right. “What I’m saying is, Viktor, you need to take a break to clear your head or I honestly think you’re going to explode with how upset you’re getting.”

“I think exploding would be easier than figuring this out.” He says bluntly and it causes you to laugh a little bit, a small smile appearing on his own face at the fact that you found it funny. You place a hand on his shoulder as you pull yourself away from his desk, he instantly looks from your hand to your face as you move, a little surprised at your touch. He watches you with a slight curiosity as you walk back towards your own desk.

You walk over to your desk retrieving a small bag that you sling over your shoulder. “Have a small lunch with me?” You ask as a suggestion for a break. You’ve had lunches and breaks with him before so this wasn’t anything new but you had never offered it as a stress reliever.

He hums a little as he considers the offer. “Mm alright, but only because I feel like if I refuse you’re going to drag me away anyways, just give me a moment.” You smile as teases you a little bit and you roll your eyes at him. He smiles and turns back to his study notes for the Hexclaw before you place your hands on his shoulders from behind and you lean towards his face, he jolts at how quickly you had shown up behind him before calming down again. “Okay, okay, I’m going, I’m going!”

——

You both had made your way to the academy gardens where you both frequently took your breaks from Hextech at. You let Viktor talk about the different ideas he had for why the Hexclaw wasn’t working on the way there but he had paused when you arrived at the gardens. The gardens were a lively contrast to the steel environment you both spent most of your time in. They were mostly quiet, free from anybody asking questions or hammering away at something. The only sounds being that of buzzing bees flitting from flower to flower and birds singing and chirping away in the trees, it was serenity for the both of you. You had been making your way to one of your favorite places to sit, stopping to look at all the butterflies that were moving about. Viktor leaned against his cane as he watched you become completely distracted in staring at all of the different insects and flowers. It wasn’t until a blue morpho butterfly was flying away that you had turned back towards Viktor since it had gone in his direction. He smiled at the face you made when you remembered that there was a task at hand, he almost laughed at how silly it all was.

“I mean I could go sit and wait for you but it is fascinating how quickly your attention changes when you see something you enjoy.” Your attention is back to him as you’re trying to deduce if he is joking with you or is genuinely intrigued but you brush him off as your face goes red at the fact that he’s right. It’s hard not to focus on something you enjoy, even if it's brief, you just have to pour out your love and adoration for whatever it is.

You both wordlessly take in the views as you make your way over to the bench you both enjoy. Your attention on the small things you notice in the garden, his attention on you as he’s analyzing the different things that catch your attention and seeing how your expressions change at each new thing. He smiles softly at how much all these things make you smile, it’s like your happiness is contagious. You arrive at the area where a well-worn wooden bench is slotted, almost entirely surrounded by purple lilac bushes. When you’re both seated on the bench, Viktor rests his cane on one side of him and you place your bag on your side, making it so you both have to sit fairly close, your knees bumping each other. Neither of you mind this though, it’s comfortable at this point in your friendship.

“Thank you, by the way.” Viktor speaks, breaking the silence. You turn to him, slightly confused, he notices this immediately and continues. “For making me take a break. We haven’t even eaten yet and I’m already starting to feel better.”

You smile as he speaks, appreciating his thanks. “Well, taking a break isn’t just about getting something in your belly, you know. It’s about departing yourself from stress. I could’ve given you something to eat and left you with the Hexclaw and you’d have cooked your food with how hot you were.” Viktor’s eyes widen and his face gets a little red as you speak and you very quickly realize your mishap in words. “I mean like when people get all warm and angry. I could practically feel the heat of your blood pressure rising from a foot away.” You joke with him as you know he was just messing with you with the face he made, though, what words you initially said weren’t entirely wrong either you admit to yourself.

“I suppose you’re right about that. Getting out of the lab sometimes helps more than I seem to remember any time I get frustrated with my work. It helps, spending time with yo- outside. Spending time outside.” He speaks quickly, hoping you don’t notice what he almost said. “What, um, what did you bring for lunch anyhow?”

You remember your bag next to you as he asks about what you had brought. You turn to grab from inside your bag, pulling out two oranges. “I have two more in my bag. Don’t ask me why I brought oranges in my bag for lunch this morning, I was in a rush to get to the lab on time and I didn’t exactly plan ahead.”

He chuckles as he takes the orange from you, his fingers brushing over yours as he does. “You know you can be late if it means bringing a better lunch, Jayce won’t mind and I certainly won’t. Oh well, at least you brought lunch. I usually don’t plan a lunch break in my day so I don’t bring one.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” You look at him, dumbfounded, and he looks at you as though nothing is wrong.

“I’m very busy! I don’t plan lunch because that’s more time away from my work.”

“You mean to tell me that the smartest person I know doesn’t bring lunch because he needs to focus on his work?” He looks at you as though he doesn’t quite get the point. “For being the smartest, you should know that you need to take care of yourself more often. I will bring you something if you won’t.” He opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows and raising his hand a little. “Don’t even try to argue with me about not needing to do that for you because I know you will.” He closes his mouth and puts down his hand, focusing his gaze back to the orange in his hands.

“Alright, fine.” Knowing he can’t win with you he starts trying to peel the orange you gifted him. He looks over at how quickly you make do with the peel and he’s trying to figure out how you’re doing it so well but all he does is nearly squirt himself in the eye with orange juice when he attempts it. “How are you doing that?” You notice that his accent is a little stronger when he sounds extra confused and it makes you smile when he looks at you as you quickly eat your orange slices.

“Viktor, do you? Not know how to peel an orange?” You ask him, genuinely, having never met someone who had a hard time peeling oranges.

“I suppose I do not.” He looks back at his orange. The poor thing is mutilated with juice dripping from it in various spots and there’s some patchy spots where he had peeled it but not enough so only the white pith of the orange is showing. He looks at you as you look at the orange with an exaggerated frown.

“Wow.” You say, astounded at how badly he has tried to peel the orange.

“Yeah.” You both stare for a moment longer before he asks if you could teach him.

“I get to teach wonder boy something?” You say with a joking smile. He nudges your shoulder with his own as you mess with him. “Alright let’s just set.. that.. over here.” You grab the now sticky orange from him and you set it next to you, out of sight. You grab another one from your bag and you place it in his hands. “Okay, show me what you did the first time, but slowly so that we don’t kill this one.” You both chuckle a little at the possible fate for this orange but he does as you ask. He puts his palms on either side of the orange and adjusts his thumbs as though he’s about to push his thumbs into it and when he starts to you quickly stop him.

“Hold on Vik, you do that and you’re going to squirt juice in your eyes.”

“But you pushed your nails into it to peel it, why can’t I?” He looks confused as he looks towards your orange peels next to you and then back at the orange in his hands.

“Because the way that you’re currently going about it is going to be too much all at once and it’ll end badly. I know you’re used to working with metal and the Hextech crystals but this is something you need to be softer with. Can you do that for me?” Your tone is a little bit softer as you speak to him, going to show him that being softer with things is easier sometimes, even with speaking to him.

He blushes somewhat at your tone. He adjusts how he’s holding the orange. He’s no longer squeezing it slightly in his hand and is now holding it carefully. He gently punctures the peel and is surprised when he’s not shot in the face with juice. He smiles at you, clearly proud of himself until he tries to peel away at it and then he ends up with a peeled flake instead of a continuous peel away like how your orange was done. He frowns and you take the orange from him. You wordlessly show him how you pull the peel up slowly away from you, in case it does decide to have juice come out, and how you push your thumb underneath the peel instead of pulling it away so that it can more easily come off in bigger pieces. You get a good peel going and then he tries for himself and again he seems like he’s doing good and when the peel breaks he makes a slightly annoyed “hm” sound.

“Viktor it’s okay, it happens, you’re learning. You’re not always going to have a perfect peel and that’s okay.” You take the piece he pulled off as he tries to peel the orange again. You turn the piece of orange around in your fingertips, it’s something to fidget with as you keep looking back to see how he’s doing with the orange. You turn the peeled piece in a certain direction and notice a shape and you hold it out for Viktor to see. “Hey look, it’s a heart! See the orange likes you after all.” You both smile, a slight snort of air coming from his nose as he’s almost wanting to laugh at the idea of the orange loving him even if he doesn’t know how to go about peeling it the way it should be, he’s trying at least. He wants to get this right, if not for him getting a good snack, then at least for making you smile at getting to teach him something so simple.

Eventually, he gets the orange peeled and well it’s not exactly pretty this time either, it’s actually edible this time. Viktor immediately begins to eat his slices, enjoying the fruit of his labor. Literally. You smile as he gets to enjoy something he worked hard for, knowing he deserves small successes like this. He watches you peel the final orange with ease and split it in half, handing him one half as he finishes his orange. “I’m sorry I’m still not very good at peeling oranges.” He laughs.

His laugh rings through your ears, making you smile wide. “I think you’re doing great and until you figure it out, I don’t mind peeling them for you.” You both bite into your respective slices, sharing this fruit together.

You secretly hope he never learns how to peel oranges and he tells himself he’s never going to peel an orange around you if it means getting to spend this time together.

“I like sharing this with you.” He speaks lightly as you both finish your orange slices, he glances at you before looking forward again.

“Me too Viktor, me too.” Whether you’re speaking about the fruit or the time shared, it doesn’t matter. You’re both content either way.

——

Oranges by Jean Little

I peel oranges neatly.

The sections come apart cleanly, perfectly in my hands.

When Emily peels an orange, she tears holes in it.

Juice squirts in all directions.

“Kate,” she says, “I don’t know how you do it!”

Emily is my best friend.

I hope she never learns how to peel oranges.

#viktor x reader #arcane #viktor #league of legends #arcane fluff

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