#‘you can’t just read 5 chapters of a book and then decide you don’t like the entire book’

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I am once again baffled by peoples bad takes online

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWO

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni, eddie is especially mean in this one (be warned), mentions of blood (in metaphors, not literal)

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 4k+

→ a/n: i just wanted to take a quick moment to say thank you for all the love on the first chapter of this!! i appreciate it beyond words <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

2:00 ─ㅇ───────────────── 24:00

HOUR TWO - 5:00 PM

It’s a miracle. Eddie is surprisingly quiet for the first hour after your small kitchen dispute. 

He resides reading a book on one end of his couch as you sit awkwardly on the other end, fiddling with your hands before finally caving and deciding to scroll mindlessly on your phone. You exhaust every social media app you have downloaded – Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr – before finally turning to Tik Tok. Adjusting your volume doesn’t even cross your mind. 

That’s all it takes to finally set Eddie off. 

It starts small; he shifts around after the first video, a prolonged sigh after the second video, a quick side-eye after the third video. Finally, after the fourth video and no sign of you turning down the volume, he huffs and snaps his book shut. 

“Do you have to watch that shit so loudly?” 

His tone is laden with utter annoyance. You’re caught off guard initially, having blatantly ignored his previous signs of being irritated by the noise, and your head whips up in his direction with wide eyes. The shocked look on your face quickly contorts when you catch his stare, full of hatred and vexation. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Let me just die of boredom I guess.” 

“I didn’t say you had to do that,” he narrows his gaze and matches your attitude with ease, “Just… solve the boredom quietly. Like I did.” 

“You were quiet because you had a book. I don’t have a book.” 

He waves an exasperated hand towards the coffee table where you catch sight of a few magazines, “Please, take your pick.”

You lock your phone reluctantly, tucking it beneath your thigh as you lean forward to glance over your options. There’s one about cars, obvious by the shiny vehicle that sits pretty on the cover, and a few hidden beneath it. You reach out and shift the laminated papers about and catch sight of a Rolling Stone cover. 

That one piques your interest, but stubborn as ever, you won’t admit it. 

“Those are the most boring fucking magazines I’ve ever seen. Who the hell likes to read about cars?” you deadpan, holding the car magazine up with a scowl. 

“Me.” 

“Predictable. What’s next, a Playboy?” 

“You’re hilarious,” he says without a hint of amusement, “Truly a comedian. Can’t you just see the tears streaming out of my eyes from how hard I’m laughing? Incredible.” 

You decide to not entertain him any further. Your hand grabs the Rolling Stone magazine, ignoring his burning gaze before you settle back into the couch. 

If he wanted to be a dick, that was fine. You were used to it by now; you’d spent the last year growing accustomed to his cold shoulders and his bitter moods around you. At this point, you expected nothing less from him. Spending a little extra time together didn’t magically change it – at both your cores, you harbored a disdain like no other. You fundamentally hated Eddie, and Eddie fundamentally hated you. The confined space, forced proximity, ticking doomsday clock, and promise of cash did nothing to put any notches in those feelings. 

“Interesting choice,” he murmurs under his breath, beginning to relax back into the cushions as well. 

“What? Is it a crime for me to like-” you pause, flipping the magazine shut to check the slick cover for what the specific issue was even about, “-The Ramones?” 

So maybe saying you liked The Ramones was an overstatement. But at this point, you’re only picking a fight for the sake of picking a fight. Because you don’t know how else to communicate with Eddie aside from with a sharp tongue and turbulent sense of sarcasm. Because when it came to the two of you, there was no such thing as small talk. 

Everything was always big. Loud. Screaming matches, bold assumptions, critical insults. 

“Pump the bitch breaks,” his eyebrows furrow, as they always do when he glances your way, “I was trying to be civil.” 

“I didn’t think civil was in your vocabulary when it came to me.” 

He exhales deeply, letting his head fall back in contempt for a moment before he lifts it and looks at you, “Is this really how you want it to be?” 

You don’t reply, and he takes it as his cue to continue. 

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours? Won’t it get exhausting acting like a spoiled brat for that long?”

“I’m not acting like a spoiled brat,” you snap, the magazine now discarded and draped across your knee, open to a random spread, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s not an act. Make no mistake, Munson, I am only doing this for the cash.” 

His book lays to gather dust on the coffee table as he leans his elbows onto his knees, twisting his body ever so slightly to face you more fully, “Really? There’s gotta be easier ways to make cash. I’m sure if you asked Stevie boy real nicely, he would have let you put that mouth to use for a quick buc-”

You cut him off, because you know how this sentence ends, and it’s too far. He’s crossed a line. You had expected it, should have seen it coming sooner, but it’s crossing a line all the same. 

“Stop,” you firmly instruct, holding up a finger, “Not that it’s any of your miserable business, but me and Steve are not like that. At all. So you can fuck right off with that comment,” you only pause briefly, and you’re glad when he doesn’t interrupt you, “And, may I remind you, you’re also getting payment out of this. I could say the same thing to you, dickwad.” 

It had been a curious itch beneath your skin – you knew why you needed the extra cash so badly, but you had no idea why Eddie did. Beneath all the hate, all the irritation, the question had come to mind briefly. But it had been pushed down by disinterest in all things regarding the man before you. At the end of the day, you didn’t care what motivated him. You didn’t care about what he did for work, you didn’t care about what magazines he read, and you definitely didn’t care to know if the five hundred was as necessary for him as it was for you. 

This was a means to an end – nothing more, nothing less. 

“Dickwad?” His nose crinkles as he parrots your words back to you, “Jesus, did you ever learn any new insults past middle school?” 

You’re ignoring him once more, picking the magazine up off of your knee and burying your nose in an article about the greatest punk albums of all time rather than letting yourself be dragged into further conversation with him, trying to send the message that this discussion was over. 

The message isn’t received. It flies right over his head. 

“Pardon me for the assumption,” you can see him hold his hands up in mock surrender in your peripherals, “You and Harrington just seem close.” 

You should just keep ignoring him. You should actually read the words inches from your face. You shouldn’t say another word; your gut is screaming at you to not say another word.

But you ignore your gut, just as he’d ignore your disinterest in talking to him. 

“What happened to being quiet? I think I liked it better when you weren’t speaking to me,” you try to say casually, keeping an air of indifference. You should have known better. As your mother always said, once you start feeding a stray, they continue to come back. 

“Sounds like it’s a sore spot. Are you and Harrington that close?” 

“Not in that way,” you grit out behind the pages, “We’re close, but not like that.” 

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him like you’d hoped, “Oh, it is so a sore spot.” 

When you finally drop the magazine to properly look at him again, it only fans the anger. He looks smug as he crosses his ankle atop his knee, leaning back and looking you over as if he can read you like cellophane. 

“It’s not,” you stress, “Seriously. Drop it.” 

In all truthfulness, it wasn’t a sore spot – not when it came to Steve. You’d always been strictly platonic, fitting fairly effortlessly into his and Robin’s friendship. 

“You definitely want to fuck Steve.” 

“You know what I actually want right now?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“To knock your teeth in.” 

The magazine is tossed back onto the table, nearly sliding off the edge from the force behind your throw. He’s relishing the way you’re continuing to get more upset, the way he’s still inching beneath your skin in a grating motion. To him, this is all just a joke. 

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” he mocks, smiling with his teeth as if to taunt you. 

“Why did you even agree to this?” you finally turn your body towards his and mirror his position, “Is it fun to you? Is that what it is?” 

The smile widens, “You know what? Yeah. It is fun to piss you off.” 

“Yeah?” you imitate him, putting on a forced smile in an attempt to look as ridiculous as he did right now. You fold your hands and prop your elbows onto your knees, continuing to mock mercilessly as you balance your chin atop them and bat your lashes dramatically, “Please, tell me more. Tell me all about how fun it is.” 

In an instant, you drop the smile and begin to return to your previous position. It was rhetorical – you don’t expect a response, and yet he offers one nonetheless. 

“Well,” he begins, “First of all, the way you go red in the face is fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s just like the cartoons. Absolutely ridiculous. I think by the end of this, I’ll get to see steam come out of your ears,” you’re already reaching for your phone, tuning him out, as he continues on, “And then it’s the way you’re just so damn easy. I mean, come on. Sometimes, all I have to do is breathe, and it sends you on a tirade. You just make it too simple, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The nickname is prickly and as uncomfortable as ever, lodging into your ears against your better judgment. It creeps across your brain, travels down your spine, numbs your fingertips. You hate the shockwaves it’s capable of sending down your nerves. 

He’s right, at the end of the day. These days, you hardly put up a fight in expressing all your negative emotions towards him. If necessary, you could pinpoint a time where he really did simply breathe and you had proceeded to curse him out for it. Sometimes, just the sight of him can sour your entire mood. He’s an ever-present, persistent, irritating rain-cloud that looms on the edges of your life by circumstance. You can’t get rid of him. You can’t get rid of your hatred for him; you’ve always had a preference for sunny weather. 

“Careful,” you hum, not looking his way as you glance down at the time that glows from your lock screen: 5:46 PM. “It almost sounds like you enjoy my presence, Munson.” 

Indifference. You needed to practice indifference to survive the next twenty three hours. 

“Oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” he says, “You are the worst part of my days. You’re like bad leftovers – everytime I see you, the bile immediately rises in my throat. Whenever Steve mentions you’ll be somewhere, I cancel plans. Whenever you show up without warning, I start counting down the minutes till I can get away from you.” 

The indifference begins to break. You finally look at him, keeping a steady expression. 

“You could go missing, you could vanish off the face of this earth, and I wouldn't blink an eye. As a matter of fact, I’d probably celebrate. Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.” 

It hurts. It might be Eddie, and you might be used to his spiteful words he uses as weapons against you, but it still hurts. The sting resembles a slap as you process each of his words. Each deliberate syllable – the specific referencing to the group as his friends and not your friends, the unblinking glare of his dark eyes, the insinuation that your death could bring him joy – drives deeper into your chest. It’s a human reaction; it doesn’t matter if the boy before you is the enemy, it still bruises to hear anyone say such things about you. The human need to be accepted, to be liked, to at least be tolerated, still twists in your gut. 

And he only presses forth. He doesn’t catch the pain spreading in your limbs because you don’t let the hurt raging in your chest spread across your face. You don’t let him see you bleed. 

“I’d attend your funeral with a party hat and sparklers. Confetti, even. The whole nine yards along with my finest bottle of champagne,” he hammers the final nail into a coffin, one that you’re not sure of whom it belongs to. Maybe it’s yours, sealing you six feet under with your cursed emotions. Maybe it’s his, locking him into the tomb to dwell in his ability to always take things too far. 

You won’t let him see you bleed.

You stand abruptly, making him flinch in the slightest. You keep your face turned from him as you take your phone and storm off into the hallway wordlessly. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” he calls after you. 

But he’s not following you. No footsteps echo your own as you turn into the only other doorway aside from the bathroom. 

He has a clear line of sight of you from the couch, and he can see you disappear into his room. 

The door slams shut behind you with a riveting bang. Your nimble fingertips fumble with twisting the lock into place, chest heaving as you finally let your eyes burn. 

He can’t see you. You finally bleed. 

The tears are feverish as they roll down your cheeks one by one, taking slow steps backward as you squeeze them shut and will them away. There are no accompanying whimpers, or sobs, or hiccups. It’s just you, the salty streams, and the now overwhelming scent of him.

He’s only managed to make you cry, make you bleed this way, once before. The night of Steve’s party, the night you had attempted to make him bleed in retaliation. You’d harbored the need to cut him open desperately that night, to crack open his chest and assure yourself he could bleed the same scarlet as you, that there was still a weathered heart behind his calloused ribs that could beat the same as yours. 

But you never did. At the end of that night, you had been the only one left bloodied and bandaged, aside from Steve’s glass as collateral damage. He remained unscathed.

The door knob shakes suddenly, and your eyes flash back open. Another shake, and you hear him huffing. 

“Seriously? Did you just lock me out of my own room?” His voice comes from the other side of the door. 

The bleeding stops. The wound seals. Even if he can’t see you through the door, just to know that his presence resides on the other side of it is enough to put an end to your trembling breaths. 

“Fuck off,” you call out hoarsely. 

“Let me in. It’s my room.” 

“No.”

He sighs, and a thump sounds that you assume is his forehead falling against the wood in defeat, “Why do you insist on acting like a child?” 

“You’re the one with a collection of action figures!” you fight back with your weakest insult of the night. He twists the doorknob without fruition a few more times, a couple sharp knocks sound as you turn to get a better look at the room you’d run into without observation. 

It’s nothing extravagant, which makes sense. He has an entire apartment to spill his wretched personality across, which means there’s no need to condense it into the decor of his bedroom. He doesn’t have to express himself in a limited space as you do with your dorm. There’s a few posters of various bands hung crookedly on the wall, a dresser with a few of the drawers half open with assortments of clothes peeking out before they overflow onto the carpeted flooring, and a bed left unmade. His jersey sheets are plaid, worn and clearly well-loved. Despite the expected mess trailing about the rest of the floor, the space beside the bed is left cleared, and you decide to settle yourself down onto the patch. 

Your phone buzzes in your tight fist as your back settles up against the side of the bed. 

“Unlock the door,” his voice persists impatiently again. 

“Go to Hell.”

“I’m already there. Stuck with you.” 

Maybe the wound isn’t quite sealed, because the words fall like salt into your chest. 

“Why my friends are so enamored with you, I will never understand.” 

There’s more to say, but the chiming of a phone cuts off your thoughts. You glance down to your cell phone – not yours. 

The ringing is more muted, behind the door. With Eddie.

It’s Eddie’s phone. 

You’re about to call out a snarky remark about him getting that, but the ringing cuts off before you have the chance. It’s clear he’s walked away from the door as the echoes of his voice fades, the conversation inaudible to you through the walls. 

Your fingers dig into the carpet beside your thighs as you pull at individual strands that stick out, finally discarding your phone on the opposite side. Eventually, your touch trails closer to the edge of the bed, plucking, plucking, plucking until you collide with laminated paper sticking out from beneath the bed. 

What’s this? 

Just as you’re about to pull what you assume is a magazine from beneath the bed, your phone begins to buzz violently, this time the ringtone being your own. 

The screen lights up with Steve’s contact photo. It can’t be good.

“Hello?” you answer once you pick the phone up after a few moments of pause. 

“You can’t lock him out of his own room.”

“Oh, hey, Steve. I’m great, thanks for asking. Really living the drea-”

“You can’t lock him out of his own room,” Steve repeats with more emphasis, disregarding your sarcastic tone completely. 

You stare across the room at an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. This machine slays dragons, it reads in bold, white lettering. 

“So you were the one who called him,” you mumble. 

Steve sighs over the line, “No. Nance called him, because you haven’t sent the proof to the chat yet. We were trying to give you guys a grace period, but-”

“But you assumed we’d already murdered each other,” you finish his sentence. 

“Can you blame us? What did he even say to make you board yourself up in his room?” 

You scoff softly, “He didn’t tell Nancy?” 

The moment Steve mentioned Nancy was the one calling Eddie, you’d simply assumed he’d filled her in. 

Before you’d weaseled your way into the friend group, there had been clear, strong bonds already set in place: Robin & Steve, Jonathan & Argyle, and Nancy & Eddie. Three sets of best friends who all wove together to form their large friend group with ease.

You were the odd man out. They never treated you as such, except for Eddie, but it was an insecurity that could eat you alive if you ever gave it the time of day. And maybe that was why Eddie’s earlier words had cut so deeply. He was voicing a fear you always tried to bury deep down. 

“No,” Steve says as if it were obvious, “He just started going off about how you had locked him out of his room amongst…. Um, amongst other things.” 

Other things. You could guess what those other things had been; no doubt, he’d spent his time on the phone bitching about you. He’d probably called you every crude name in his rolodex of hatefulness. 

“Right,” you drawl, eyes flickering around the room to seek out another distraction to mindlessly stare at. Suddenly, you remember the magazine you had discovered just as Steve called, “Well, nothing surprising. The usual, really. Just how he hates my guts, he finds me annoying, he wouldn’t care if I died-” 

“-What?” 

You ignore Steve’s gasp of disbelief and carry on, “-All the classic insults you would say to your arch nemesis.” 

Steve says your name softly, still carrying an air of shock, “He didn’t mean that. I- Listen, he’s an asshole sometimes, but I guarantee he would care-”

“Who cares?” you interrupt, “I don’t blame him. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to care if I meet my untimely demise. I kind of figured he was going to murder me anyways, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was… that was joking around, he…” Steve trails off, because you both know he’s full of shit. 

There was no joking around between you and Eddie. A painful truth, considering when you first joined the friend group, you had such high hopes of getting along with him. 

“It’s whatever. Do you still need me to send proof?” you ask, fingers now playing with the crumpled edges of the magazine. Even half-hidden, you could see there were pages that had been dog-eared. 

You almost don’t hear Steve as he tells you that it’s fine, that now they know the two of you are definitely together. It’s already nearly time for the next check in anyways. 

“Alright, in that case…” your tongue peaks out as you begin to tug the magazine out of hiding. The moment the magazine's title comes into sight, you gasp, frozen as the phone nearly slips out of your hand.

Fucking jackpot.

“You good?” Steve asks. 

Playboy. A goddamn Playboy magazine. 

“Never better,” you rush out, eager to hang up so you can utilize this ammunition against Eddie, “Talk later, Steve-O.” 

You don’t give him a chance to echo a goodbye before you hang up, tossing your phone off to the side with a muted thump. Your focus is entirely on the magazine before you, crinkling as you hold it in your hands and bite back laughter. 

Against your better judgment, you open the cover, mouth falling open as you flip through page after page of nude women and cigarette ads. Some pages stick together, and you don’t dare to peel them apart, cringing at the thought of just why they’re sticky. You come to the first page that had been dog-earred, and your jaw clicks as your mouth falls agape. 

Fucking pervert. He’s a goddamn pervert. 

A well-timed knock sounds at the door once more, Eddie’s knuckles sharp in their three strikes, “Can you let me in now?” 

It’s the closest to a please you’re going to get. 

“Sorry, busy!” you call out in response, still staring at the spread.

The nude woman eerily resembles you. Same hair, same skin tone, similar noses. The Universe has dropped the most loving of gifts in your laps in the form of this magazine, something you know you can use to get under Eddie’s skin as severely as he had done to you. 

“Busy?” he protests, knocking on the door again before you hear the shaking of the doorknob again, “What the fuck are you doing in there? I told you, don’t touch my shit.”

You bite your lip, smile curling the corners of your mouth as you finally stand from the floor, knees cracking as you keep the magazine open to the photo. Eddie has gone scarily quiet, and you can’t even make out his breathing. His shadow has stilled completely as it peaks in from under the doorway. 

He’s never living this down. 

You’re still grinning with ill-intent as you shout, “Wow. Who knew I was right about the Playboy?”

Those words are all it takes for the frantic pounding on the door to begin.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @imtryingahh @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @liv0679 @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @eddiemunxson @ohmeg @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @whosbettysstuff

(if your name is crossed out like so, it means i am unable to tag you)

taglist is now closed. &lt;3

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

#JusticeForYuu

Warning: long rant coming up. Mentions of PTSD and Trauma.

So I recently read this manhwa called ‘Ashtarte’ and let me tell you, compared to other manhwas that I’ve read, I’ve never felt more vindicated or satisfied by the way it handles trauma and forgiveness.

Basically, the main character is a young princess, about ten or eleven or twelve I can’t remember, who has spent her entire life being treated like nothing by her entire family for no pretty much no reason at all. Trust me when I say that the neglect and emotional abuse she undergoes is awful and after a while, she realises that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. She mentally and emotionally emancipates herself from them and makes a family with her small handful of servants that live with her in her broken down house (let me tell you, they all love and protect her so much. Her mother figure/ best friend/ maid is the absolute GOAT), telling them that she won’t waste any tears on her bio family anymore. And when her bio family beg for forgiveness after she makes a very obvious effort to ignore and stay as far away from them as possible, she tells them that if they want her to even consider forgiving them for all the pain they put her through, they need to wait 10 years just like how she spent ten years all alone, trapped in that house, waiting for someone to love her. Even after the 5 year timeskip, she still doesn’t give them the time of day whilst they send her letters and mountains of gifts (that she never opens) and when she meets them again because of some obligatory family thing, she tells them point blank that there’s a chance that she’ll never forgive them and there’s nothing that she wants from them so just leave her alone and just walks out as they all suffer in their guilt.

And, let me tell you, as someone who has read a lot of female lead manhwas, I’ve never seen a FL not forgive a neglectful family - either they end up forgiven after an apology that lasts for like one chapter, or the MC gets her revenge and completely ruins them, or it’s an isekai story so now that a new person is possessing the main character, they finally decide to show interest and since the new character is either scared of them, is trying to gain their favour or has never undergone their horrible treatment of the host body, they just get off scot-free (A Match Made In Mana is a good example of this. Like the romance. Hate the fact that the older brother only started treating her right when another person isekaied into the main character - same thing with There Is No Place For Fakes)

Now what has this got to do with anime Disney boys you ask. Let me get to that.

Now I’m the kind of person that can hold a grudge - not that much in real life but very much so when it comes to fictional characters. If I was Jo March, I wouldn’t even be in the same room as Amy March after she burned the manuscript for at least a year. There are some characters that I just can’t stand because they never get the full consequences for what they put others through and I hate that so much (I’m not going to name names because a lot of them are fandom favourites and I don’t want to start a war). 

What I’m trying to say is that why can’t there be a Yuu that doesn’t forgive the overblot gang/dorms for what they put them through? Because you have to admit that they way that they treated this homeless, magicless human with absolutely nothing to their name and that is, in every instance, at the bottom of the food chain was awful. And I’m not talking about the overblots - they were clearly in the midst of a mental breakdown and weren’t in the right state of mind. But how would you explain everything that they did pre-overblot? When they are fully conscious of everything they did. Riddle even admitted after his overblot that he knew that he was being harsh but he still did that stuff anyway.

I know that we have to forgive everyone for the sake of the plot since we need Riddle in Book 2, Leona in Book 3, Azul in Book 4 and so on and so forth but when I remember the torment that Yuu faces, I just want to tell them all to take a hike. 

I know that these boys had horrible lives. I know that these are deeply traumatised individuals and that them overblotting was the only way for them to heal. But guess what? Going through trauma doesn’t excuse giving trauma to someone else? As Jake Peralta once said:

Confession Time - I was the anon that sent this: https://www.tumblr.com/shiny-jr/716948600309137408/hi-i-just-want-to-say-that-ive-read-all-of-your?source=share

And I still stand by what I said.

I just find it really annoying that when I search for angst fics it’s always the boys’ trauma or unrequited love or death or break ups - or maybe even something mentioning an overblot but I’ve never once found anything about the boys asking for forgiveness for what they did to Yuu prior to the overblots because once, just once, I want to read someone asking Yuu to forgive them and for Yuu to be selfish just once and say ‘no’

I know that I portray my fem!Yuu as this person that’s so sweet and forgiving and kind and soft and gentle but that’s because I’m obsessed with the dynamic of this sweet sunshine bubbly girl being a breath of fresh air to these villainous boys (and also because I kind of took some inspiration from my favourite princess, Snow White, and I based her a bit on Wendy Darling because I wanted her to be that ‘mature young girl’ who is very motherly but is still very much a fun-loving, imaginative child) but I just want a Yuu that is given the respect that they deserve.

I want a Yuu that actually experiences PTSD because of the treatment that they’ve undergone. I want them to hate the fact that their experience in NRC has changed them. I want them to hate that they’ve developed claustrophobia and a fear of the dark after they were forcefully imprisoned in Scarabia, I want them to hate how anything can trigger a PTSD-induced flashback, I want them to hate how Riddle’s jabs at their character and parentage still ring in their head after all this time, I want them to hate how whenever they’re submerged in water, all they can remember is what Azul, Jade and Floyd put them through in their attempts to get their home and family back. I want them to hate how often they get nightmares, how any second could be the day they finally get killed by any of these magic users who are far more powerful than them. I want them to look in the mirror and despise every single scar that litters their once unblemished body. I want them to hate how they had to ask the people who stripped them of their home and the only family they had in NRC for help in Book 4 because now they are indebted to them and they have no idea when Azul would want to cash that.

I’ve seen fics that have Yuu go through heatstroke during the marches in Scarabia and, as someone that not only has had heatstroke before but also had a really scary fainting experience I headcanon that as well so how about a Yuu that turns down Kalim’s invitations because the sight of Scarabia reminds them of the hostility that they faced when they were the most vulnerable. How about a Yuu that tries not to hate Kalim because he’s a genuinely nice person and was the only one to welcome them with kindness but can’t help but feel bitter whenever they hear the housewarden excuse Jamil’s behaviour when they still remember how they were locked up against their will.

This fic by linawritestwst and this fic by the-hearteater portray what I’m talking about really well. (taxonomize our differences by Jemimimi does a really good job of illustrating how being in Twised Wonderland affects Yuu’s mental health - there’s an incredible scene where Yuu has a panic attack and teaches Grim how to help them out of it. I nearly cried because their sense of self worth is so low and suicidal tendencies are so unstable that in multiple points of the story they try to get other students to kill them and Yuu my baby 😭)

When I go through the Rollo x reader fics, the majority of them are either yandere or the usual fluff. But Rollo can actually be a good friend for Yuu to have. Whilst their mentalities are different, they both agree that magic is dangerous - with Yuu being a victim of said magic. I honestly think that, if he wasn’t written as the big bad of the event, he could’ve been a really good ally that would understand Yuu’s pain of not only facing overblot after overblot but their helplessness of being surrounded by magical individuals and not knowing whether they’ll be able to survive another day.

Everyone’s always like #Crowley Slander (which he rightfully deserves, I am thisclose to punting him) but don’t forget everything the boys did. I see fics where they stand up to Crowley for Yuu but the most they do is reference the overblots but never that they did horrible things as well. Crowley may have told Yuu to stay behind during the winter holidays but Jamil was the one who imprisoned us and prevented us from contacting our friends for help. Crowley may have made Yuu stay at Ramshackle (although to be fair Ramshackle is kind of the safest option - who knows what would happen to Yuu if their magical self was in an actual dorm, especially all of the female Yuus. I think living in isolation is kind of the best option for them when the universe is out to get them. Plus, the ghosts are amazing company.) but Azul was the one who made us homeless and had a shady business (that he still has even after the overblot). Crowley may have been blackmailing Yuu with food, shelter and money but Leona was the one that was sabotaging the students and Vil was the one that tried to point blank kill an innocent child in cold blood after making his childhood trauma and personal one-sided rivalry everyone’s problem for the weeks leading up to the VDC.

Everyone only treated them with respect after the overblot incidents - so they literally had to put themselves in danger and nearly die for them to be treated as not a nobody. When Riddle made those completely uncalled for jabs at Yuu, an innocent bystander, nobody said or did anything. Not Trey, who enabled Riddle’s reign of terror and quietly observed the suffering all of the Heartslabyul students (and then had the gall to tell adeuceyuu not to get angry at Riddle because of course tragic backstory = forgiveness), not Cater, who canonically has a hidden side so Yuu has more of a reason not to trust him, not any of the other card soldiers - no Ace, the one everyone writes off as a stupid tactless jerk that does badly in school and only causes trouble, was the only one that had the emotional intelligence to realise that Yuu’s feelings were hurt and was the only one who cared to do something about it via sucker punching the tantrum-throwing tyrant.

(I can’t remember if Deuce did anything but he already stood up for us during the egg debacle so it’s okay he’s still my number one love)

(Also: Riddle is known to be incredibly strict with his dorm. It’s been said that Heartslabyul has the best academic record because of Riddle’s incredibly high standards. He also doesn’t take excuses from anyone even if they aren’t even in the wrong - which is seen when he exiles adeuceyuu from the dorm during the Mont Blanc Tart Incident where Trey tells Riddle that he was the one who told them to make the tart for the party and Riddle says that it was still their fault for not knowing the rules beforehand because of course a first year would have memorised all 810 rules by their like third day and it would be perfectly normal of them to ask a senior for advice on what to do. My question is: how many dyslexic students or anyone else with learning disabilities do you think Riddle has sent crying? How many students with less than stellar family backgrounds joined NRC only to find that they were sorted into a dorm that had a leader who not only holds their abusive mother’s teaching methods on a pedestal but is more than ready to hurl insults at anyone that disagrees with him? How many times had Trey seen an innocent student receive unfair treatment and kept quiet about it despite it being his job as a vice dorm leader and upperclassman to look after them?)

I know that so many people want Yuu to overblot or go through their villain arc so that the boys can be put in that place but why do we even have to go that far? If Yuu did have magic they would have overblotted ages ago but even so why do they need to have a mental breakdown so that others could see where they went wrong? Remember an overblot can kill its host and Yuu doesn’t need another near death experience. 

I want Yuu to be like Ashtarte and just have a small circle of friends and family in Ace, Deuce, Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts and tell everyone else to bog off. I want Ace, Deuce and Grim to be like the maid, Leona/Loena - different translations have different spellings (she is such a protective mama bear I love her so much. She literally calls out royalty to their faces, is ready to throw hands with the entire world and is willing to risk her own life for Ashtarte’s happiness) and act as Yuu’s guard dogs to prevent anyone from coming near them. Ace, Deuce and Grim have been there since the beginning, they’re Yuu’s ride or die besties that know what they’re going through, they’re platonic soulmates who can clearly see the emotional turmoil on weighing down on them. I want them to witness how Yuu is affected by their PTSD with their panic attacks and nightmares and bouts of depression and dissociation and then doing their best to learn how to help them. I want Yuu to refuse to step foot in another dorm and just go to NRC for classes and then disappear into Ramshackle. I want Ace and Deuce to run interference in case anyone approaches their friend because can’t you see that they don’t want to talk to you, who’s not afraid to stand up to anyone be it teachers or upperclassmen because haven’t they done enough damage. 

Yes, Ace is a jerk but he’s not a mean bully of a jerk. He’s just a stupid tactless teenage boy who just needs to be humbled once or twice - he’s completely harmless unlike Sebek and his humanphobic bigoted butt who should definitely keep his comments to himself because Yuu already has enough troubles without someone reminding them of how inferior their species is.

I want these boys to feel guilt - not because of their overblots but because they were actually horrible people before they tried to kill a defenseless, magicless human. I want Yuu to not only lose trust in the main characters but also with everyone else because they never know who would hurt or betray them next - who would be like Trey or Rook and enable bad behaviour, or who would be like Azul and take advantage of their weaknesses, or who would be like Jamil and pretend to be their friend and then stab them in the back. I want a Yuu that’s tired of being manipulated and used by everyone and is just done with everything.

As much as I love parental!Staff, you have to admit that canonically, they’ve done a pretty bad job of looking after Yuu so how about a Yuu that doesn’t trust adults because they’ve shown no interest in actually being someone that Yuu can open up to. Also, Azul was able to get away with everything he did was because he had Crowley in his pocket - who’s to say that he doesn’t have other adults under his thumb as well? (We know he doesn’t but how can Yuu be sure)

I want Yuu to be friends with Neige because he seems like such a sweetheart and I really don’t like how I see fics putting him down just to make Vil look good. As I mentioned above, Snow White is my favourite Disney Princess and sharing a spot with Pooh Bear as my favourite Disney character so a darling boy that is inspired by her would be an awesome friend to have - and he has never caused Yuu physical, verbal, emotional or mental harm.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that this is making me come off as a hater but I just want some justice for Yuu. They deserve absolutely nothing that they go through and I want happiness for them.

Also, on a completely unrelated note, I may have been listening to Numb Little Bug a tad bit too much.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 8

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7)

Chapter Summary: Eddie explains himself, and you two make plans to hang out on purpose.

a/n: Sorry I haven't been updating! I swear, I'm almost always thinking about this fic but I've been trying to figure out where to go with it. I'm started to see how I want to shape the story (over 40k words in, go figure). Thank you all so much for your patience!

Also, I've had a lot of people ask me about Paige and have shown interest in what happened between her and Eddie. She is actually from Eddie's prequel novel, Flight of Icarus! I'll still explain bits and pieces during the story, but I highly recommend reading the novel for the full context. I am trying to write this in a way you don't need to read FoI, but it does give extra context to the story.

Anyway, we continue.

Aside from the mixtape playing in the van, it was surprisingly quiet between you and Eddie. Despite his eagerness to show up and take you out, now that you were sitting in his passenger side seat again, he had no idea what to do next. The sound of Iron Maiden was rumbling through the van, crackling through the old speakers. 

It wasn’t often that Eddie was at a loss for words or couldn’t come up with something to say. After embracing his role in the Hawkins High ecosystem as the resident loudmouth freak he could always come up with something to say to break the ice or cause a ruckus. 

But, being loud wasn’t exactly a substitution for actual charisma. He could hold the attention of his Hellfire Club during the game, and keep them safe enough from most bullies even. But intimidation was different than... whatever the hell he was supposed to be doing here. Flirting? That seemed right. He knew he should be trying to flatter you or compliment you or do something to show that he had an interest in you. 

“So,” you were the one to break the silence between the two of you. “What have you been up to for the past two weeks?”

Eddie know what you actually meant was “What the fuck, man?” which was a really fair question. 

“I should have called you sooner.” It was best to go ahead and rip the bandaid off now and get this conversation out of the way. “I’m sorry, I wanted to but I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door as you looked at him. Despite your eagerness to get out of Family Video with him, he could see that you weren’t going to just let him not explain why he hadn’t talked to you. Not that he was going to leave you hanging like that anyway. 

“My phone blew up.” Eddie said bluntly. 

“Your phone blew up? Like... actually exploded?” you asked, trying to see if he was fucking with you. 

“Remember that huge storm a few weeks ago? Turns out that old trailers don’t exactly have the best wiring sometimes so when lightning strikes it knocks out power for a few days and fries some important wires.” he explained. “So... yeah, we just got a new phone today and when I tried to call...”

“So, I didn’t answer my phone so you decided to track me down?” There was amusement in your voice which he took as a good sign. “Seems like you could have done that part earlier. I’m not hard to find.” 

“I’m not exactly interested in stalking.” Eddie snorted. “I’m already on enough people's shitlist in town.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” you laughed. “You know where I live, you could have shown up at my doorstep in the rain or used random phones around town to leave weird messages about how you can’t stop thinking about me or sent me letters with cryptic meanings.”

“Where do you come up with these things?” Eddie laughed, feeling the tension between the two of you start to dissipate. 

“I read a lot of bodice-ripper books.” you shrugged. “Trashy romance novels are a guilty pleasure sometimes.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a weirdo?” 

“Steve did about an hour ago when I suggested that Bozo the clown could be the shit out of Pennywise from It.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. Every time you had shown up in his life, you had completely thrown him off. He was starting to suspect that no amount of “Munson Magic” was going to work on you. Not that he wanted to work his dad’s charm on you to begin with. 

What he really wanted to do at that moment was ask you about your little bet with Steve. No, wait, not a bet. A deal? Maybe he should have asked Dustin more questions, or at least waited until after Hellfire to talk to the kid- 

”So what’s the plan?” You broke through his thoughts once again. “You show up out of nowhere and have me get into your unmarked van to take me to a second location... is there a second location in mind?”

There wasn’t, Eddie really hadn’t thought that far ahead.He’d panicked after his talk with Wayne and had shown up to Family Video on the chance that you’d been there. He’d run straight out the door with every intention of finding you and let you know that he was stupid for not trying harder to call you before. 

”I figured we could just... drive.” He wished he could ignore the sudden parallel between you and Paige. He wished that he could just forget about what happened in ‘84. Fuck, him and Paige never even had an official date, only hooking up in his van for a few weeks before everything blew up. 

Wait, was this a date? Crap, that had been the plan right? Show up, ask you on a date and then... then he’d be on a date. What the FUCK was he actually doing? He was acting so fucking awkward now- everything had been easier before. Why did Dustin have to open his big mouth about this?

“Just driving sounds great.” you said, and Eddie once again tried to relax. Every girl he had been with had wanted something from him. Nicole Summers and Cass Finnigan just wanted bragging rights that they got with the freak, and Paige had wanted him to be a rock hero. What did you want from him?

“Have you eaten?” It wasn’t exactly late, but it wasn’t really early in the evening either. His uncle always asked him that whenever one of them got home, and it had taken Eddie an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Wayne’s way of showing that he cared. 

“I could eat.” you replied, which at least gave this... whatever this was, some structure for the night. Eddie didn’t have a lot of cash on him, but he could probably scrape together enough to get you each a burger or something. 

When the Iron Maiden tape clicked off and spat itself out, you took it upon yourself to pull it out and look it over. “Got any other tapes in here? I need to judge your music taste.” 

That made Eddie laugh “You and every other person in this town. I have a few more tapes in here.” He tapped on the center console which you eagerly dug into, flipping through the different cassettes with eagerness. 

“Metal. Metal. Metal. Metal.” You said, going through each cassette one by one. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, Eddie.” 

“What gave it away?” He said deadpan. “Was it that I play guitar or the fact that we’ve only bonded over music so far?”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“And Chris Morrison.”

“It was your hair, actually. You look so much like Eddie Van Halen it’s actually uncanny.” You looked up from the tapes and he could feel your eyes studying his face. He was glad that it was dark out now, as he could feel warmth rising in his cheeks at the comparison. Was that a compliment? Were you into him looking like Van Halen? 

“Van Halen?” Eddie asked. “I figured I was more of a Kirk Hammett type.”

“The hair yes,” you agreed, still staring at his face as he continued to drive. “But your smile is definitely more Van Halen.”

When was the last time someone had ever looked at him with that much consideration before? Something in Eddie’s gut twisted as he glanced over at you for a split second to meet your eyes. Huh, that was weird. Had anyone made him nervous like this before? Yeah he’d been attracted to Paige but this was starting to feel different. 

He really needed a cigarette right about now. 

“I hope that’s a compliment.” Eddie managed to say as he fumbled for the packet of Camels in the cupholder by him. 

“Oh, it is. I promise.” you replied, digging out a lighter and helping him light the smoke in his mouth. The world's tiniest supernova...

Eddie hated that the closest thing he had to compare notes on when it came to a healthy romance was two months with Paige and a handful of movies that he barely watched. 

You went back to his tapes, and seemed to pick one out. You removed the tape that had been spat out, put it back in the appropriate case (which Eddie found himself appreciating), and he was surprised to hear the old riffs of Muddy Waters playing. 

“A palate cleanser.” you said, leaning back into the passenger side seat. 

Eddie felt his mind reeling from your choice of music. Muddy Waters had been how his mom introduced him to rock at a young age. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the well loved tape as he pulled into the drive in of the next fast food joint he’d seen. 

When he pulled up to the window to pay, a fresh ten was shoved in his face before he could even reach for his own wallet. It took a moment for him to realize that you were wanting to pay. 

“You got me out of work early, it’s the least I can do.” you said, not giving him the option to say no as cash was exchanged for a bag of questionable but cheap food. You held the bag in your lap as Eddie started making his way out of town. 

“So is this an ‘eating van’ or a ‘non-eating van’?” you asked, messing with the top of the bag. 

“I think I’d starve if I didn’t eat in here.” Eddie snorted. “Knock yourself out.”

You wasted no time digging into the fries and taking a few for yourself as Eddie went to the only place that he could afford to take you right now that might be date worthy. 

Luckily, Lover’s Lake was quiet and private on weeknights. If Eddie had taken two minutes to plan this better, he would have thought to maybe clear out the back of his van and set out a blanket and have a picnic. When it came to music and D&D he was great at planning out details, with dates? Not so much. 

This isn’t a date. He reminded himself for the hundredth time tonight. She’s just a girl that you ran over to spend time with the second it occurred to you that she might have an interest in you and she really willingly hopped in your van and your friends actually like her-

Shit. This had to be a date right? Neither of you had said the word but that’s what it was... right? 

Eddie was snapped out of his thoughts with the sweet smell of hot potatoes and grease was wafting under his nose. You had shoved a few fries in front of his face and Eddie wasted no time in taking them. You continued to absently feed him fries as he found a spot to park.

The two of you divided up the food on his dashboard, and Eddie rolled down the windows to let the cool autumn air in. 

“So... what are you gonna be for Halloween?” Eddie asked, wincing internally. When was the last time anyone he knew had dressed up for Hallowen? Okay, so Hellfire Club did tend to dress up on Halloween for a special one shot but that was different- no one came to school in costumes anymore.

“It depends on my plans.” you answered. “Halloween is on a Thursday so I’m usually working. If I have a morning shift I’ll probably do zombie makeup for work, if Steve and Robin are working with me that day I think we’re gonna attempt to be Luke, Leia, and Hans.” 

“And are you gonna be Leia?” Eddie asked. 

“Ideally, I wanted to be Chewie but I don’t have the time for that.” you laughed. “Robin and I voted on Steve to Be Leia. Robin will be Luke, and I’ll be Hans Solo with a teddy bear.”

“Please tell me that Harrington isn’t going to be in the bikini.” Eddie laughed. 

“Keith said costumes had to be work appropriate so, sadly, Steve will not be gracing the store with his sweater-vest chest hair under a bra.” You sighed dramatically. “It’s like he hates the idea of us having fun!” 

“What if you have to close?” Eddie prompted, adjusting in his seat to lean against the door to face you as best he could. Next time he was absolutely clearing out the back to give you both more room. 

“Oh, I am not closing.” you said firmly. “And if Keith thinks he can schedule me that day he can suck it because I have plans.” 

You already have Halloween plans. Of course you would. It’s not like you had to worry about school on a weekday like he did. Eddie tried not to deflate in front of you and remained calm. 

“And what plans would that be?” he asked. 

“Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. 

He had, once, with Reefer Rick a few months ago when picking up his usual supply. A quick pick up had turned into a game of pool, which had turned into the two of them high on Rick’s couch watching an old VHS tape while Rick laughed his ass off and yelled at the tv before passing out in the middle of Tim Curry seducing Brad and Janet. 

“Once.” Eddie said, not giving the exact details of circumstance. “With a friend, I didn’t really get it.” 

“Did you see it in theaters or did you just watch it at home?” you asked, finishing off your food. 

“Friend’s house.” 

“Oh, no wonder you didn’t get it. Rocky Horror is an experience, you can’t just pop the tape in and watch it. You have to come see it in a theater.” As you spoke you were absently folding a napkin in your lap turning it into what looked like a heart. When you were done with that one, you started with another shape with a different napkin. 

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie asked, tearing his eyes away from the way your fingers moved for now. He found his heart pounding in his chest, unsure if you were actually wanting him to come to this, and from the knot forming in his stomach as the shapes you were folding reminded him of the times he met you before. 

“It is.” you confirmed, the ninja star you had shaped with the napkin was placed on the center console as you grabbed another napkin. “...It could also be a date.” 

Despite the period at the end of the sentence, Eddie heard the slight waiver in your voice on the word date. It was that same nervous stammer that had been in Paige’s voice when she offered to let him move in with her in California, it was the same hesitant inflection that one of his Hellfire players used when they weren’t sure if Eddie would approve of what crazy plan they had for their character. 

Aside from that first awkward meeting at the Palace Arcade, you had been pretty confident and upfront with him. Now here you are, laying out your intentions and seeing what he would do. 

What would he do? Eddie had shown up at Family Video with no real plan. He only knew he wanted to see you again, and he knew that Dustin and Steve were trying to set you two up. And it’s not like Eddie was completely against the idea of going on a date with you. You were sharp, and you kept him on his toes, and when you smiled at him it felt like his brain might short out. 

But he had also panicked when he had thought that you were going to kiss him before. After Eddie’s disastrous break up with Paige two years ago, it’s not like he’d been completely against any physical relationships. There had been a grand total of two other hook ups that he’d sabotaged. People weren’t interested in getting to know the freak, they just wanted to say that they had been with him. So both times, Eddie had made sure that he’d been a lousy date and a decent enough lay before deciding that he’d rather had a date with his right hand and a Heavy Metal magazine.

Eddie would rather the rumor mill call him a boring date rather than set a standard that he’d go out with anyone who asked. He wondered if he had, would Steve have put his name on the town marquis for the world to see? Would Eddie ‘the Slut’ Munson be treated any differently than Eddie ‘the Freak’?

Shit, you were still waiting for a response. 

“A date.” Eddie finally managed to echo your last words back at you. The napkin you had been messing with in your hands was now taking the shape of a ninja star. 

“I mean, if you’re interested.” you said quickly. “It could just be a friend thing. Or you probably already have plans for Halloween-”

“I don’t.” Eddie interjected. “It could be a date.”

He watched your shoulders relax and you smiled up at him. “It’s a date then.” You grabbed a napkin and your green marker out of your bag and scribbled something down, handing it over to him. 

“In case your phone blows up again, here is the date and time and location for the Halloween showing of the movie.” your eyes narrowed slightly at him. “And my work schedule has been hectic but I consistently work on Sunday’s and clock out at four.”

Eddie got the message loud and clear, he would know where to find you now. There wouldn’t be any excuses for not reaching out, but two could play at this game. He took the marker from your hand and grabbed his own napkin, scribbling his own phone number down and handing it over to you. 

“I’m at school all week, but I still play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.” He answered back. “Friday is Hellfire.”

With that, the playing field felt a little more level. Both of you now had the power to track the other one down or call when needed.   

“So what are you going to be for Halloween?” you asked, tucking the napkin with his number into your bog. 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? When you’re the town freak every day is Halloween.” Eddie chuckled. 

“So what, you’re gonna put on a polo and khakis instead?” He liked the way you scrunch your nose when you laughed. “Ditch the jewelry and cover your tattoos?” 

“That would probably scare some of the teachers at school.” Eddie had considered doing exactly that, but he really didn’t think he’d want that kind of attention. “No one dresses up at school anymore.”

“Boring.” You sighed. “I tried dressing up for Halloween my senior year but when I got to school my friends convinced me to change clothes.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the type to let other people tell you what to do.” 

“Now I’m not.” you shrugged. “I’m not in high school anymore, and all those people that I saw everyday? Turns out I was only friends with them because I saw them every day. Once you get away from that forced routine you realize that it’s all bullshit.”

Eddie could relate, probably better than anyone else. He was so sick of the day to day hierarchy of highschool that he’d scream it from on top of a table. Literally. 

“What were you trying to be before your friends killed your fun?” Eddie asked. 

“A pirate. It was last minute but I had a bandana, an eyepatch, a sock puppet with feathers glued to it for my parrot, and a wire hanger I was carrying around as a hook.” you laughed at the memory. “I ended up dropping the eyepatch before my friends made me change because I kept running into people. My wire hanger was confiscated, some asshat stole my parrot, and one of my friends gave me a sweater to change into. I didn’t even make it to first period in that outfit.”

Eddie had made it a point to not pay attention to anyone outside of his small group at school, only ever keeping an eye out for lost sheep that didn’t have anywhere else to go. He wondered, if he had seen you that morning in the brief window before you were pushed back into conformity would he have noticed you? Talked to you? You had already been nice to him before. 

“Wait,” Eddie over at you, taking in the picture you had painted for him. “You made a sock puppet parrot?”

“I needed a parrot, or else no one would get it!” you explained. “But then when I took it off and left it to go use the bathroom it was gone. I finally found the thief in fourth period because they kept playing with it and squawking my own parrot at me. But by that point I had just cut my losses and had given up on Halloween.”

“Are you usually this crafty?” Eddie asked, once again looking at the final napkin you were folding into what looked like an old cootie catcher. 

“I get bored easily.” you said. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands I can’t focus.”

“How’d you start with the whole-” Eddie grabbed one of his slightly used napkins and gave it a wave. “Folding thing?”

“Fourth grade show and tell.” you said. “I did not prepare anything and so I spent a full ten minutes in the school library to find something to show. I found a book on origami, found the easiest thing to make and realized that I actually enjoyed it.”

If that was a mystery, it sure did get solved right there. Eddie wanted to ask about Steve and Dustin. He wanted to ask you why him? He could keep his mouth shut, let this whole thing play out and see what happened. Eddie could sit here, and enjoy the fact that a girl was giving him the time of day and leave everything up in the air just like he had with Paige. 

“So I heard you and Steve had a deal going on.” Eddie said. “Something about getting dates?”

You froze for a second, the completed cootie catcher in your hands. Things were dead silent for a grand total of ten seconds. Ten agonizingly long seconds. Even the cassette player had clicked off and was now whirring as it rewind the Iron Maiden tape. 

Then you started laughing. A lot. 

“Jesus, Eddie!” you said, wiping your eyes with the ninja star as a tear threatened to spill down your cheek. “I tell you I have origami as a hobby, and you follow up with ‘So I heard you and Steve are trying to get dates.’ Seriously?”

Eddie remained silent at your reaction, trying to process your laughter. You didn’t seem scared or nervous that he had called you out, and he had to admit that he hadn’t completely thought through the consequences of asking you that question. 

“Who blabbed?” You asked, after your laughter had calmed down. 

“Henderson.” Eddie admitted and, in an attempt to ease any lingering tension he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console and held his chin in his hand as he looked at you. “That shrimp informed me that you found me so irresistible that you begged Steve to set you up with me.”

“Is that right?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Told me all about how ever since Chris Morrison shot you down, you’ve been desperate to get my attention to get back at him.”

“So which is it, am I attracted to you or am I using you to get back at a guy I talked to once in high school years ago?” you asked. Eddie saw a glint in your eyes, the same one he’d seen that first night at the arcade when at the air hockey table. 

“Both are true.” Eddie continued to explain, a shit eating grin on his face. “You see, you were originally going to use me to get back at Chris, but then you saw me play guitar and instantly fell in love.”

“Damn, this sounds like the plot of a terrible movie.” you laughed. “So is this the part where I tell you that ‘It started out like that, but I swear it’s not like that anymore!’? Do I beg on my knees that my feelings for you are genuine, even though we’ve hung out a grand total of two-and-a-half times?”

Five times, but who’s counting? 

“What’s the half-time?” Eddie asked. 

“You ditched me at the arcade after I said I’d be right back.” you stated matter-of-factly. “I’m hoping it’s not a pattern where you start dropping off the face of the earth just when things start getting good.”

“Between you and me,” Eddie leaned in closer. “I thought Dustin was trying to set me up with Steve. Not you.” 

Cue more laughter from you as you threw your head back. “Are you kidding me?! Dustin makes me and Steve show up to an arcade and tries to force a meeting with you- and you thought you were supposed to be dating Steve?!” 

“Not dating!” Eddie clarified quickly. “You see, Steve and I only have one thing in common and that’s Dustin Henderson. Kid practically worships Steve. I thought he was trying to get us to be friends or something.”

“Oh my god, you thought Dustin was trying to hook his two dads up!” Your cootie catcher was now crumpled up in your hands, stained with tears from your laughing. “I’m a homewrecker!” 

Yeah, this really wasn’t going the way Eddie had expected it. 

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” you said, your laughter calming down into giggles instead. “Have I been reading this whole thing wrong? I mean, if you have more of an interest in Steve I could probably set that up. He’s only ever shown interest in girls but you have long hair and are pretty enough-”

“No.” Eddie said. “I don’t have an interest in Steve- you think I’m pretty?” How were you able to throw him off so easily? He could tell that if you had been able to join Hellfire you would have been a menace at his table.

“Extremely.” you said, your voice more sincere now. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a while and Eddie felt that same twisty feeling in his gut again. You thought he was pretty. That was good, right? Did you like pretty boys? You were pretty- he liked that a lot. 

“I...” Eddie started and then dug deep inside himself to find the words he wanted to use. “Prettier than Steve?” Those were not the words he wanted to say, but he said them anyway. 

“Steve is conventionally attractive but, as I said before, not my type.” you said. “I like guys with long hair anyway.”

Eddie really couldn’t tell if he was nailing this or blowing it. “So, what is your type?” 

“I’ll tell you mind if you tell me yours.” you countered. 

Had Eddie ever really thought about what his type was? Yeah, he’d had ill-advised crushes and had been attracted to various women in comics and tv but did he have a type? He tried to connect all the girls in his mind that he’d been with, trying to find a pattern. 

Someone who actually pays attention to me. That’s pretty sad, Eddie. He came to the conclusion. Yeah, aside from his disastrous kiss with Ronnie five years ago, every girl he’d been with had been the one to show interest first, and you were no exception. But had he actually had feelings for the others? Not really. Attraction? Yeah. Feelings? Well, with Paige he had been far too busy dealing with Corroded Coffin, his dad, and school to really decide what he felt for Paige. Any other small flings had been dead on arrival.

So why did he keep wanting to spend time with you?

“Don’t go spreading this around,” Eddie started. “But if I had to pick a type, it’d be She-Hulk.” 

“She-Hulk?” you mulled that over in your mind. “So tall, green, and angry?” 

“Strong-willed, and funny as shit.” Eddie corrected. 

“And green.”

“And green.” 

“If I had known that earlier I would have picked Kermit the Frog as my Halloween costume this year.” you teased. “I don’t have a character off the top of my head, but I like people who feel.. Real.”

Real. The word that Paige and him had used over and over in those two months. 

“What’s real to you?” 

“Not high school.” you said. “Someone who’s not afraid to exist and be themselves. I’m most attracted to anyone who can let go of their desperate ego and just have fun. High school was boring because everyone was so wrapped up in their own bs of looking cool that they didn’t do anything that they actually wanted to do. Shit, even I fell into that.”

Eddie didn’t want to ask if he was real to you. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. There were lots of times he wished that he wasn’t still in school, but this time really hit harder. He was starting to really like you, and yeah part of him was terrified of that. 

The two of you finished off the last of your food and Eddie shoved all the leftover trash into the brown bag and tossed it in the back so you wouldn’t be stepping on it. 

“I don’t know much about real anymore, but I think you’re pretty badass.” Eddie finally said. “I mean, you brought a wire hanger and a fake parrot to school for a costume. That’s pretty brave, even if your friends did talk you out of it.”

“I’m more mad that the parrot was stolen and used to annoy me than the lack of costume.” you said with a small laugh. “They weren’t even funny. They just kept repeating what I said. It was easier to just shut up at that point.” 

“Didn’t think to make them say anything embarrassing?” 

“Oh, I tried. But, jocks don’t know the art of a good ‘Duck Season, Rabbit Season’ gag. Anything embarrassing I said they’d just turn it around. I’d say ‘I pissed myself in gym.’ they’d reply with ‘you pissed yourself in gym’. No love for comedy.” You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “If you’re going to be a bully, at least give me a good story to tell later, you know?”

“I once got slammed against a locker by a jock who called me ‘a myriad freak.” Eddie said. “To this day, I still don’t know what he was trying to mean by that.”

“See? At least that’s funny.” you said, and then. “Holy shit, we’ve gotten off topic.” 

“There was a topic?” Eddie leaned back on the seat again. 

“Yes, an important one that I was very interested in before we started talking about bullies and high school and She-Hulk.” you nodded. 

Talking to you was so easy that he hadn’t realized how many topics the two of you had blown through in a short amount of time. He looked at his watch real quick and realized it was creeping towards 11 pm now. Had the two of you really been talking that long?

“What topic was it?” 

“You flirting with me.” you said, your lips pulling back in a cheshire grin. “I’m pretty sure you were at least, before I became a homewrecker between you and Steve. Normally I’d hate to break up a happy family, but I might have to make an exception this one time.”

“Was I flirting?” Eddie tilted his head with his own grin. “I’m pretty sure I was just telling you that I thought Dustin was trying to make me be friends with Steve. If I had known that the shrimp was trying to introduce me to a cute girl-” He would have shot it down and canceled Side Quest Day- “I wouldn’t have left the way I did.”

“You think I’m cute?” 

“Extremely.” 

You nodded. “Alright, then it’s a good thing that we’re going on a date. I’m glad to know that I’m not coming between you and Steve.”

It was just past midnight when Eddie dropped you off at your apartment that night. This time when you leaned over the center console towards him, he didn’t freeze up or panic. Eddie let you hug him and he hugged you back, his cheeks growing hot momentarily when he felt your lips press against his cheek and he was able to breathe in your scent. 

“See you later, Eddie. Oh, and for the movie- I highly recommend dressing up.” you looked him up and down. “Actually, just wear what you’d normally wear. I think you’ll fit right in.” 

Eddie made a mental note to ask Rick later on what he was supposed to wear for this. 

“I’ll call you.” he said. “I promise. I mean it this time.”

“Not if I call you first, I have your number now. And worst case scenario, I know where you play.” you responded. “See you Tuesday, Eddie.” 

And with that you were gone again, leaving Eddie alone in the van feeling much better than the last time he had given you a ride. There were still questions he had. He still wanted to know why exactly everyone was wanting the two of them to meet again, and why you always so readily agreed to meet up with him. But those were questions for another day. 

“You had a missed call.” Wayne said as Eddie made his way into the trailer. “Didn’t leave a name or number. Said she’d call you back.”  

Eddie laughed and shook his head, guess you meant it when you said you’d call first. 

“Don’t stay up too late watching tv.” Eddie said before heading towards his bedroom. He once again found himself falling asleep with his copy of The Hobbit, the origami flower tucked safely in the back. 

Ending note: This fic takes place during October 1985. Stephen King’s It did not come out until September 1986. I would like to ask you all politely to suspend your disbelief for the historical inaccuracy of a piece of dialogue that probably didn’t add much to the plot. If this horrible inaccuracy bothers you, please repeat to yourself “it’s just a fic, I should really just relax” which is what most of us should be doing anyway.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 5 - Cyvasse

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

While the men are hunting, court is held in the queen's private chambers and there is enough cake and gossip to fuel an entire afternoon.  

The cake, you enjoy, but the gossip is all the same. Suitors. Marriage. Betrothals. It's as though the men never left and, the name which far surpasses all others in its frequency, is Aemond.  

The sound of it seems to prick your ears from every direction and, for a moment, you wonder if he enjoys being the most eligible bachelor at court. Except you already know the answer to that. You've never seen him dance or flirt. In fact, the only time you've ever seen Aemond perform for his gaggle of starry-eyed admirers, is that day on the balcony. And you’re not sure if he did it for their benefit, or if it was just a natural result of arrogance and gloating. 

Laughing to yourself, you decide on the latter before reaching for your second raspberry tart. 

Your mother, however, has other ideas. She slides the plate from your grasp and, if that wasn’t bad enough, she also picks up the embroidery hoop which has been idling on your lap for the past twenty minutes.  

"This will need unplucking... again ,” she scolds, handing it back to you with a pair of scissors and a stern look. 

You refrain from rolling your eyes, looking instead at Maris and Cassandra who have almost finished their handkerchiefs. They never have to unpluck anything!  

Why can’t you be more attentive? It would save you so much time in the long run, and your poor thumb wouldn’t be facing another round of pin pricks. With that in mind, you quietly decide that one wonky cornflower will have to do, no matter how much your mother disapproves. 

Afterall, it's not as though you'll be giving this handkerchief as your favour, since you can’t think of a single person who will ask for it.   

So, instead of wasting more time, you wait until your mother is distracted by something Cassandra has said. Then you slip away, taking your hoop and a spool of thread as though you might continue elsewhere.  

Your real destination is the bookcase on the other side of the room, and it's been calling your name since you first arrived.

The closer you get, the easier you can see the dragons carved into the wood just like they are carved into everything else. The walls, the chairs, the stone fireplace. As though anyone in this room could ever forget you were in the lair of the dragons.  

Reaching the bookshelf, you’re excited to see every inch of space is piled high, and some of the volumes look as though they have never even been touched, their spines smooth and their gold embossed lettering in pristine condition.  

There are no new books in Storms End, and you itch to open one. Wanting to smell the fresh ink on crisp parchment and feel the pages beneath your fingertips. But you don’t. You'd hate to be the one who sullies that perfect leather, and these aren’t just anyone’s books, they’re the Queens. So, you reach for an older book, its cover curled at the edges, its pages stained and wrinkled from countless turns.  

Aegon’s Conquest.  

Flicking through the first few chapters, you wonder if Aemond has read it and curse yourself as soon as the thought enters your mind. Wasn't it enough for his name to be in every conversation? Did he really need to creep into your subconscious too? Though you suppose you couldn’t really blame Aemond for that, he wasn’t even here. Still, blaming him felt infinitely better than blaming yourself.  

Replacing the book back onto the shelf, you turn to the window. From here, you can see a perfect view over Blackwater Bay, and it could remind you of home if it wasn’t for the near constant stream of merchant ships. Most of them are small, with only one sail to propel them through the water. But one is much larger, and you count 15 sails in total as it leaves port, its tiny crew standing on deck. 

You wonder where they're going, who they carry, and just how exciting it would be to sail away to some strange and exotic place like Braavos or Volantis. 

When you can’t make out the people onboard the ship any longer, you turn your attention to the Cyvasse board. You’ve never seen one like this before, its pieces carved from ivory and jade instead of black and white.  

You reach to pick up the green dragon and its heavier than it looks, the stone perfectly smooth and the carving intricately detailed. It almost feels as though it might spark to life in the palm of your hand, which leads you to wonder just how small real dragons are when they’re born.  

You'd never thought much of dragons before but, here , they are everywhere. Carved, embroidered, painted and prowling the halls in black leather.  

Holding the piece closer to the window, the tiny green gems of its eyes glow brightly in the sunlight, and again you’re thinking of Aemond . You’ve never seen what lies beneath the black patch across his scar, but you know it's a gem and wonder of its colour. Green like the tiny dragon in your hand, or blue like his eye.  

Cursing yourself again for not only thinking of Aemond but knowing the precise shade of blue which makes up his eye, you place the dragon back on the board then reach to investigate another piece- 

"Do you play?” A voice startles you, and you glance over your shoulder to see Queen Alicent standing directly behind you. 

“Your Grace,” you gasp, turning to face her and offering a somewhat awkward curtsy.  

What was it about this family which always seemed to catch you by surprise?  

“I said, do you play?” 

“A little.” And not as well as you would like. Cyvasse partners were not frequent in the Hall of Storms End and, if they were, most people didn’t want to play with a girl.  

“Then sit,” she says, gesturing towards the ivory side of the board.  

For a moment, you don’t move. Was this really happening? Were you really going to play Cyvasse with the queen? The whole thing seemed so unlikely to the girl you were a few months ago, yet it was happening just the same.  

You force your legs to move, sitting opposite her but not without casting a weary look towards your family. But its only Maris who seems to notice what is happening and, when you smile, she does not return it. 

“Your sisters seem to have become quite close friends with Helaena,” the Queen says, drawing your attention back to her. 

“The Princess is very kind,” you reply sweetly, thinking your mother would be pleased with your answer. But more pleased to hear you had not gone on to say, ‘unlike your son.’  

The queen doesn’t reply and there’s a comfortable silence as you both arrange your Cyvasse pieces into your preferred starting positions.  

You know it will be your turn first, but you’re not sure what piece to play. You don't want to appear too aggressive or too careful. You want something surprising, thoughtful. Though you suppose none of that really matters, since your only real hope is that she won’t beat you too quickly.  

You move the Light Horse. 

“Are you enjoying your time in Kings Landing?” she asks, contemplating her own move for longer than you would have imagined. 

“It is... everything I expected it to be.” 

“Quite the political answer,” she says, sliding her Rabble two spaces forward.  

Your aunt always played her Rabble in the same way. As a result, your second move is a little quicker and the queens is too. You both play four more turns before there is a longer pause while she considers her options. 

“I noticed you looking at the books, you may borrow one, if you wish,” she says, falling into the trap you’ve been baiting. 

Your heart quickens, excited. “Thank you, your grace,” you say, sliding your Dragon to capture her Elephant.  

For her move, she claims a Trebuchet, and you bite your lip, frustrated by your mistake.  

“A good Cyvasse player must notice everything, ” she says and, maybe she’s talking about the game, but there’s something in her tone which causes you to meet her eye and wonder why she has noticed you .  

The room is filled with other ladies. Ones who crave her company, one’s who she’s known for years and most with stations far higher than yours. Still, you don’t ask her why. You play your next move and, more than thirty moves later, the Queen wins.  

You’re not surprised by her victory. It's been almost a year since your last game, which is a good enough excuse, yet you hate to lose just the same.   

“You play very well but you should practice more,” she says, and you enjoy her praise far more than you’d care to admit.  

"Thank you, your grace but my family does not play,” you reply, knowing instantly that Maris, who has not stopped staring, would hate you for saying this.  

If the queen wanted Cyvasse, then Maris would practice until her fingers bled, even if she despised every moment of the game. 

“Then meet me tomorrow, after breakfast, in the garden.”  

This is not a request, nor does she wait for an answer or even stay in the room. She’s done with court and leaves you and the rest of the ladies to finish the afternoon alone.  

Later, when you should be sleeping, Maris sneaks into your room, sitting at the bottom of your bed with her hair in rags. 

“What did you talk about with the Queen?” she asks, and you know she’s been desperate to ask you this all evening.  

“Nothing really, we just played.” 

“Urgh...” she falls back dramatically on the bed. “I’ve been trying to get her to notice me for weeks and you spend one afternoon with her and-” she sits back up, frowning, “it's not fair!” 

“You try too hard.” 

“Well , you don’t try at all.” 

She wasn’t wrong. If anything, you were trying to stay out of the way. But you supposed aloof was noticeable when everyone wanted centre stage. Perhaps if you were livelier, you’d be less visible. Like you were those first two weeks at court.  

“I envy you,” she says, reaching to brush away the hair which has fallen onto your cheek. “You are the third daughter which is even worse than being the second, but you don’t care. I wish I didn’t care.” 

“Then don’t,” you smile, taking her hands in yours and holding them tightly. “Starting now, no more caring about what anyone thinks.” 

She returns your smile, and you both know that what you’ve said is an impossible task for someone like Maris. She cares about everything and everyone. Still, neither of you say it.  

Instead, you scoot over in the bed and pull back the covers for her to climb in beside you. You haven't slept together like this since you were little girls, but the excitement you feel is just the same. Sometimes you would stay up all night, talking, telling stories and daring each other to sneak down the hall to bang on Septa Orella's door. Maris would never do it, but you could never resist.  

Blowing out the candle, you both snuggle into the quilt, lying face to face, arms tucked under pillows and eyes still not quite heavy enough for sleep.  

“There is one person I care about...” she whispers in the dark. 

“Who?” 

“Aemond, of course,” she says as if this is common knowledge, yet it is not common to you. 

"You don’t even know him,” you say, hating the tone in your voice. So judgemental, so accusatory.  

“What is there to know?” 

What is there to know about a man you care for? You scoff, its times like these when you realise just how different you are from her. 

“How about his manner? His interests? His passions?” Or the way he might mercilessly tease a person for the rest of their life. Which leads you to the terrible realisation that, if Maris marries Aemond, then you will never be rid of him.  

“You are quite the secret romantic,” she says, laughing softly. "Ladies do not marry men for their interests, and I do know him. He is a Prince of the realm and Helaena has told me he is the kindest and most gentle brother.” Her voice turns so whimsical at the last part that you can’t help but snort. 

“Helaena is hardly going to tell you that he is ungentlemanly, exasperating and completely incapable of-” you stop yourself.  

What exactly were you going to say next? Incapable of forgetting a certain day on the beach?  

You swallow your words, but Maris presses for more. "Incapable of what ?”  

“Smiling ,” you say quickly, except that isn't true. You've seen him smile plenty of times. Heard his infuriating laughter too. Yet Maris agrees with you.  

“You’re right, he never really seems to smile but I can hardly hold that against him.” 

“You don’t hold anything against anyone,” you remind her.  

“Well, you hold everything against everyone . You know we are all wondering why Ser Harrold does not ask you to dance anymore...” her tone is playful, as though she assumes the whole thing is by your design and you don’t refute her. 

“Ser Harrold is a fool.” 

You can practically hear the roll of her eyes. "Is there a single man you don’t despise?” 

“Of course,” you say, keeping your tone even and entirely serious. “I don’t despise, Lord Henry.” 

Maris giggles so loudly you’re certain she will wake the entire keep. “He is a cat!” 

“And much more amiable than the men at court,” you say, trying desperately to hold onto your own giggles. But Maris’ laughter is so infectious that you’re both forced to cover the quilt over your head to smother the sounds.  

When you come up for air, you don’t tell her you’re playing Cyvasse with the Queen in the morning. In fact, you don’t tell anyone, and for someone who is trying to steer clear of unwelcome company, you’re doing a terrible job.  

~~~~

Thank you for all your lovely comments, likes and reblogs on the previous chapters! <3

[deathbecomesthem]

The Printer

A My So-Called Hawkins Diary Entry. (actually, 2 entries)

~700 words | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader MSCL AU

Monday:

50 minutes. That’s how long the study session between me and Eddie lasted. I can’t be sure, but I think the first 5 minutes we sat with our desks facing each other, I stopped breathing. I could see his lips moving, he was talking to me, but my ears were ringing. I don’t think I’ve ever actually talked to him before this morning, not for real. It was like I forgot how to be a person for a minute, like my brain decided to shut down or something. 

It was the way his eyes were looking at the left corner of my desk that snapped me out of it. That and the finger tapping. He was nervous too, for whatever reason, and his brain was just throwing out words for him to say instead of shutting down. It was a feeling that I needed to help him relax, help him pass this exam, that made the gears start turning again.

I interrupted his rambling, something about mnemonic devices as a study aid, and suggested we start working down the list of vocabulary words at the end of each chapter to gauge what we need to focus on. And then he looked at me and smiled. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile like that before. He turned his head to the side, kinda shy like. His hair (still damp this morning) touched the corner of his mouth. I would do anything to see him smile at me like that again. I would give anything to be that little curl touching his lip. 

Eddie’s lips are actually perfect, and the way he says, “deontology” set my skin on fire. How does he do that? Make the most ordinary things so much more. I think if I could feel his breath on my skin while he recited names from the phone book, I would evaporate. Cease to exist. For the first time ever, I want to thank Mrs. O’Donnell. Thank you, you old hag, I got to study Eddie for 50 minutes.

–

Tuesday:

A miracle happened today. We all got to school at the normal ungodly hour, ready to take that torture session called Mrs. O’Donnell’s midterm exam, and god decided to bless us. The old biddy came in looking ready to spit nails, which is pretty normal for her. But instead of handing out packets of papers, she shook her head and stood in front of her desk empty handed.

The copier ate the exam when she went to print them. I saw Eddie’s shoulders drop in relief at the news, even with Mrs. O’Donnell glaring at him. I swear, she’d blame him if she could. She hates him so much. Instead of taking the exam, we all had to sit in silence and read the next chapter of the textbook. We’ll have an extra 5 days to study for the exam since it’s a long weekend.

And that’s the best part. The studying. Because EDDIE’S COMING OVER TO MY HOUSE IN ONE HOUR TO STUDY WITH ME. He actually asked if I would mind him coming over. (and he fucking smiled like that again.) I told him, sure, that’s a good idea to get more study time in. But what am I going to do? He’ll be here in an hour. ONE HOUR. An hour. One. Hour. Do I make a snack? Do I order pizza? My parents are, mercifully, gone for the night. It’s date night (barf). Mom left $20 on the counter, so I guess I’ll order a pizza, but what kind? Does he like pepperoni? Of course he does, everyone likes pepperoni. Nero’s or Johny’s? Should I get a soda? Pepsi or Mountain Dew? Oh my god, do we study in the dining room or MY ROOM? 

This is so stupid, I’m freaking out. I need to put some makeup on, but like in a way he won’t be able to notice. What if I kiss him accidentally because his lips say, “deontology”? I need to be sedated.

[kaleldobrev]

Epilogue — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.1k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (1x), Fluff

Authors Note: Last part of the Take Me Back series! I hope you all enjoyed this 5 part mini-series that was originally supposed to be a one-shot | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read Chapter Three Here | Take Me Back Masterlist

The car ride to the Bunker was a quiet and awkward one, something that you weren’t really expecting, considering you just regained your memories. You figured that Sam and Dean — especially Sam, would be ecstatic, but he apparently had no idea what to say; basically the man was speechless.

After about two hours of silence, Dean was finally the one to break it. “So, what exactly happened? You two kissed and then poof? Memories regained?”

“Bout sums it up,” you shrugged. “Thought you two would be more excited about me regaining my memories,” you added. Especially you Sam, you wanted to say, but decided against it.

“We are happy that you have your memories back, believe me. But…a lots changed in four years,” Dean said; his comment causing you to raise a brow.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Okay, let me get this straight. Jacks the new God?” You asked, almost in disbelief of what you’ve just heard.

“That’s what you decided to hone in on? Not the fact that your boyfriend here had a fucking beard!” Dean exclaimed.

“To be fair, I’ve been telling him to get a beard for years,” you stated.

Dean turned around briefly, the most disgusted look on his face. “You take that back this instant.”

“Sorry I can’t. I’m not a liar,” you grinned.

“Okay technically you do, cause you used to actively pretend to be a FBI Agent on a somewhat regular basis,” Dean scoffed, turning back to face the road. “Reminds me, when we get back, can you make me one of your cherry pies?”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, trying to figure out how there was a connection. “How does that remind you of her cherry pies?”

“Because whenever we had a case that was far from home, one of the first things she would do is make her famous cherry pie for me,” Dean said. “Duh.”

“Are you sure you want to keep your memories?” Sam said, turning to face you.

You smiled at him. “What do you think that answer is?”

It’s been four years since you’ve stepped foot into the Bunker, and it felt like nothing has changed. It still had that same smell to it; that old book musty smell combined with Old Spice. “Welcome home,” Dean said, patting you on the back.

Dean looked over at you and his brother; the two of them exchanging thoughtful like looks. “I’ll leave you two kids alone,” he smiled, heading down the metal stairs.

Once Dean got to the bottom of the stairs, Sam looked at you, a slightly nervous smile on his face. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the stairs.

“Thank you,” you nervously smiled back.

Halfway down the stairs you turned slightly, Sam following closely behind you. “So, I have a question,” you said, nervous to ask what you were about to ask, even though you probably had no reason to be.

“Shoot,” he answered.

“Sleeping arrangements…” you began, very hesitantly. “Can I sleep with you or…”

“Y/N, you know you don’t have to ask me that,” Sam said, almost sounding just as nervous as you had just sounded. He wanted more than anything for you to sleep in his — your — bed again. For the past four years, Sam felt as though he hadn’t been sleeping as good as he could have been. He didn’t realize until you had left, how reliant he had become on you when it came to how well he had slept.

“Okay,” you half smiled.

Upon entering yours and Sam’s bedroom for the first time in over four years, there was still a small sense of familiarity to it. Despite you not being here in over four years, there were still things that were left the exact same way as you had left it. He was still using the same sheets you had bought in order to make the Bunker more homey, pictures of the two of you still were scattered throughout; either hanging on the wall or propped up in frames on the dresser and desk.

You walked over to what used to be your dresser and picked up one of the perfume bottles which was almost empty. “I uh…I sprayed that sometimes in here to…” Sam half chuckled, scratching the back of his bed. “To kind of pretend that you were still here.”

You felt tears start to well up in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away. “You really missed me uh?” You asked him, picking up a picture of the two of you.

“Like crazy,” he said, walking toward you. “I’m sorry.”

You looked at Sam with a confused expression on your face, cocking a brow. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I should have given you a choice when it came to making that deal; it wasn’t fair for you,” he said.

“Sam,” you began, placing the picture down back on the top of the dresser. “You saved my life. Brought me back to life even. I…I would have made the same deal.”

“You would have?” He asked, a similar looking confused expression on his face.

“In a heart beat,” you confessed.

He gently smiled at you, and scratched the back of his head. Nows a good time as any, he thought. “Open up that drawer there,” he said, pointing to your side table. You looked at the table briefly before looking back at him. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slight hesitation. You walked over to your side table and upon opening it, there was a traditional looking small black velvet box. “Sam…” you trailed off, picking up the box and turning around.

When you turned around, Sam was down on one knee in front of you. “Open it,” he stated. Your heart began to race, as you were actually half afraid to open up the box.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted up the lid just slightly. “This better not be a prank,” you said.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this,” He said, sounding almost half annoyed. Opening up the lid fully now revealed a small diamond ring. “I’ve held onto that for over four years. I was going to ask you to marry me when we got back from that vamp case in Malibu but…you know…”

“Yes,” you said instantly.

“But I didn’t ask you yet,” he smiled, chuckling a little.

“Oh, sorry,” you nervously chuckled.

“Y/N, will you marry me?” He asked.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him. Taking the ring out of the box, Sam placed the ring on your finger, and you couldn’t help but smile wide from ear to ear. “I have a crazy idea.”

I’ve missed your crazy ideas, Sam thought. “What’s your idea?”

“Let’s go to the courthouse right now. Why wait any longer?” You suggested. “I mean, I love you. And I’m always going to.”

“I’ll go get the keys,” Sam smiled, leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips.

Walking out of the room, Sam felt like for the first time in a long time, that things were working in his favor.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal55 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @livingordeadwhoknows @writinginfear @roskar16 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @taraswifes @zepskies @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @sammysnaughtygirl @coldspoons @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @spnandpj @androah @somebrokeartstudent @nescavaneck If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Expect the unexpected -

Pairing: Nerd! Natasha Romanoff x Popular! Fem! Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Summary: When everyone wants to get a night with you, maybe giving the tall nerdy redhead a go is the best thing you can do.

Word count: 2052

Warnings: bottom! Reader, top! Natasha Romanoff, slight slut shaming (not from pookie bear Nat ofc), making out, SMUT, thigh riding, r being a big tease

A/N: this story contains explicit smut, so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. This is set at the end of the last year of high school, which means that everyone involved is of age (at least in my country everyone is at least 18 by the end of high school but I know that in some countries you only go to high school for 4 years instead of 5 like, for example, I did). I’m gonna use the lessons “layout” that I’m familiar with, as I don’t know enough about other countries’ school systems. This means that the school year starts in September and ends at the beginning of June, with the final exams for graduation starting in the middle of June. As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy <3

Masterlist

It is may, it is freaking may, how is it already may? You are panicking, you really don’t know how the hell you never realised that time was moving so fast, perhaps it is the fact that you’ve only focused on your literature classes to have the best grades possible and get into your dream university starting at the top, but it suddenly hits you. It is May and you still don’t have a passing grade in maths and physics. Yes, you’re not gonna study those subjects ever again after graduating high school, but in order to do it in the first place, you have to have somewhat decent grades. Shit, how the hell are you gonna get higher grades when you don’t even know what the professor has been talking about for the past two months?

You try to take the matter in your own hands and start reading the needed chapter of the maths book you’ve barely opened, it won’t be so hard if you closely follow the freaking book, right? Wrong, you don’t understand a single word written in the damn thing, useless waste of paper.

After some more desperation you resolve to the last thing you wanted to do, ask for help.

You are, for some unknown reason, pretty popular at school. Ok, it may or may not be because apparently everyone lusts after you. In fact, you may or may not have had a couple dozen people try to ask you out just in the past three months, but in your defence, they were just porn-addicted guys who wanted to get lucky for one night. It actually all started getting a lot more frequent since the spreading of the (true) rumor of you sleeping with the student body president Wanda Maximoff, another person the whole school thirsted over. You actually spent a couple good times together, but you knew from the get go that she “didn’t commit” as she had to focus on school, a decision you were fine with. Soon after, the whole school considered you the hottie who apparently gives incredible head, thanks to Wanda spreading the news so effectively and your past companions confirming.

Despite some people calling you a slut, even directly to your face, you know that you never did anything wrong, they’re all just uptight assholes who can’t get laid and get angry at your sometimes teasing demeanour.

Now, you have the phone number of almost any top maths and physics student, as they were even handed to you personally by the owners, hoping for you to eventually be in need of help, like you are right now. You end up deciding to just go to class and try to ask the person who inspires you the most at the moment.

The next day, as the maths class is nearing its end, you still have no idea who you are willing to talk to, when the feeling of someone watching you from behind gets impossible to ignore. As you turn around you see a tall redhead quickly move her eyes away from you while nervously biting her lip. You know her, actually, you only know her name and the fact that she definitely could be of help, as she even got a scholarship in the top national university when it comes to maths and physics. Natasha Romanoff, that’s her name, which you remember very well since that party at your friend’s house, where no one took you seriously as you talked about how you think she’s pretty hot.

You finally make a decision just as the bell rings. You immediately stand up and turn around to look at Natasha who, as she stands as well, you notice is actually a lot taller than you, damn that’s hot. You look up at her and, when you notice the nervousness behind her eyes, you softly smile at her and introduce yourself, despite her already knowing your name. You go straight to the point and ask her for help.

“I just need to meet a couple times to get the main points. I don’t care about being the best, I just need the bare minimum. Would you help me out?”

She looks at you with a stunned expression for a couple seconds, before breaking out of her trance when you smile at her once again.

“I- yeah, I mean, of course I can, yeah..yeah!”

“Yeah” you teasingly repeat, making you bite your lip as she blushes a little bit.

You end up deciding to meet up at her house later that day, as her parents and sister are out, so you can also look over the homework your professor just gave you. You happily say goodbye and leave her stunned at the encounter she just had.

Just like everyone else at school, she is drooling over you, the only difference being that she’s never tried a single move on you. That’s why you didn’t even think about her at first, as she didn’t give you her number before today.

By the end of the day you find yourself freshly showered and wearing a cute outfit you know will make Nat’s jaw drop. You truly need to do some tutoring, but there wouldn’t be anything wrong in trying to test the waters as well. You don’t even care about your friends’ teasing, thinking about Nat all day just made you more and more desperate for her.

As you get to the address she previously messaged you, you find her ready to open the door right before you can ring the bell, letting you in and checking you out as you look around her house, getting lost in the skin of your thighs getting exposed by the sundress you’re wearing.

You end up sitting in the living room, your books left in your bag and only a notebook at hand. Listening to Nat passionately talk about what she loves really makes it all easy to understand. How the hell does your professor make everything sound so complicated? You spend a good couple hours listening to her and asking questions from time to time, feeling shocked at the amount of stuff that you were able to go through. It will definitely be easier than you thought to get your grades on track thanks to Nat.

Deciding on stopping for the day, you start to gather your stuff in your bag while asking Nat some questions about herself, wanting to know more about her. After looking slightly shocked at first she shily answers while looking anywhere but at you. As you are sitting on the couch with one leg under the other, your dress rides up your thighs a bit more, making her lose her concentration. Of course you notice what’s happening, but you feign innocence and touch her much bigger hand and ask her if she’s alright, making her fully stop talking as she sees the way you’re rubbing your thumb on the back of her hand. As her eyes move higher and lock with yours, she notices the way you are looking at her lips, making you let out a small whimper when she slowly wets them.

She suddenly realises how close you’ve moved to her and, when you whisper her name she can’t hold herself back anymore, suddenly kissing you with so much hunger that you can’t keep yourself from moaning at the urge she’s displaying. When you lick her lower lip, asking for entrance, she immediately accepts and surprises you with the way a simple kiss of hers takes your breath away.

When she pulls away, you are both panting like you just ran a marathon and your heart starts beating even faster when you take her in, looking hotter than ever, making you rub your legs together to try to relieve some of the discomfort you are now feeling, a sight that makes her lowly moan and grab your face to continue your previous activity.

After heavily making out, you make her fully sit while keeping your lips locked all the time, not being able to get enough of each other, just to straddle her and lock your arms behind her neck, making sure to stay connected as much as possible. When you inevitably have to breathe properly you notice how stiff she is, with her hands on the couch under her.

You lean back, fully sitting on her thighs, and take her hands to guide them over your body, over your waist, your hips and finally placing them on your ass, making her throw her head back when she finally squeezes it, at first lightly and then with more force, making you moan out loud. You then lean down and immediately start nipping at her neck more and more as she thoroughly kneads your ass cheeks as you involuntarily move your hips back and forth over her thighs.

When you feel her panting under you, you just stop marking her neck and lean back once again, only to fully take off your dress, revealing your bare boobs and your underwear being the last piece of clothing on your body. At the sight of your tits’ slight wiggle when you fully remove your dress, Nat just lets out a loud moan while once again squeezing your ass. You know what she wants and you also know that she’ll never do it herself, so you grab her hands and this time you move them up to your chest, which she gladly touches mouth-opened, as if she’s never seen a pair of tits in her life, which may be the case.

As she tentatively runs her thumbs over your nipples you throw your head back and expose your neck to her, giving her the perfect opportunity to start kissing it. You truly feel desperate for her and, as you run your fingers through her hair while she sucks the skin of your neck while pulling your nipples, you start rolling your hips over her with much more will. After moving around a little bit, you are able to fully straddle her thigh, making her notice only when she feels your slick soak through your underwear and her pants.

At this moment, with you desperately riding Nat and her watching your boobs bounce a little with each roll of your hips, the lust in the room is more prominent than ever. You feel your peak quickly approaching when she suddenly leans over to suck on your tits, even leaving one or two hickeys on top of them, making you feel like you just could never be more attracted to her than right now.

When you tell her that you’re cumming, she leans back on the couch to fully take you in when you finally reach your orgasm, your head thrown back and chest heaving at the immense pleasure and relief you feel, a sight that makes her groan and that she’ll never ever forget. When you look back at her, still panting and with reddened lips, she can’t help but lean in to pull you flush against her and kiss you, moaning a little when she feels your nipples poke her chest through her shirt.

Soon things get heated once again, but you are only able to take her shirt off and teasingly ask her where she hid those perfect guns, before you hear the bell ring and her sister’s voice asking to open the door, as she forgot her keys.

After you hurriedly put your clothes back on and get your stuff, you both go up to the door, Nat opening it and you quickly walking past Yelena while saying goodbye and telling Nat that you’ll be texting her. When she’s sure you’re far enough, Yelena looks at Nat dead in the eye and just tells her

“You just fucked, in my house.”

“No, we didn’t..and it’s my house as well”

“Yeah yeah and I bet that she just spilled some water on your pants” Yelena finally says with a disgusted look while going inside.

There was indeed a noticeable wet spot on Nat’s leg which only made her mind go back to your previous activities and how beautiful you looked while lost in pleasure. As she starts to get lost in the memories, Nat receives a message from you

“Looking out for your next lesson, tutor ;)”

.

.

Part 2

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 5

chapter 9:

1. OMG DID REMUS FORGET TO GO BACK TO HIS CELL WAIT HOLY SHIT THIS ISNT GONNA BE GOOD

2. oh good wait, remus left and came back

3. sirius’ first thought is to brush his teeth to kiss sirius 😭😭 he’s so me fr. i wouldn’t let my ex kiss me unless they brushed their teeth first. or had a mint. im so sensitive to smells

4. “He used to build things. Create things. And now he's lucky if he doesn't destroy what's already formed.” JESUS FUCK. THATS LITERALLY SO SAD WTF

5. 😭😭😭 sirius is literally amidst gay panic beyond your wildest comprehension and remus is just like ✨☺️😏🥱🩷🏳️‍🌈 “touch me”

BABES

6. “Remus hums. "Imagine how I feel. No one's touched me without causing me pain in five years."” NOOOO BABY

7. god, wolfstar deserves everything. the best wolfstar content i find is always in a fic that is centered on another ship. i could literally survive off wolfstar alone- no water, no food, no air

8. wolfstar calling each other beautiful>>>>>>>

9. 😬 what did sirius jsut say. i must be going crazy. cause there’s no way he just said he needed to brush his teeth

10. wolfstar deserves the world universe

11. reg is no longer a pathetic teen with a crush, he’s a pathetic adult with a crush

12. reg being grumpy even in his sleep <33333

13. james having a pathetic crush on reg while cuddling together is top tier

14. there really needs to be an emoji to accurately show the face i just made. it probably looks similar to this- 😀😟 what. there’s no way reg is about to tease james, just to get his old 14 year old self off

15. 😀😀 girl what is he doing. i-

16. how he became freinds with barty is so crimson rivers canon, i can’t even. like, i KNOW that it’s canon. but it’s also canon that bizzarestars was right about. no author mistakes in that piece

17. damn, reg is actually gonna go at it. i don’t know how james is gonna survive this and make it to the actual arena.

18. “James says his name like it's the only word that has meaning. His voice is rough, and Regulus' name is sloppy and desperate in his mouth, like a hail mary or a form of salvation.” CHRIST. I SAID I DIDNT KNOW HOW JAMES WOULD SURVIVE THIS, BUT HOW THE HELL DID REG SURVIVE THIS??

19. “Barty is a good lover, there's no denying that—but he'll be damned if James isn't just better.” 😟 shocked. omg. who would have guessed this would be reggie’s thoughts

20. “"Because you might die today," Regulus tells him bluntly, shrugging one shoulder as he stands up. "Consider it a parting gift. Now, get out."”

😧

they just fucked, and all reg can do is be like “yeah yeah, now get out horny bitch” no fucking way i just read that right i-

bitch that’s foul

21. “Regulus is a conundrum, honestly.” yes. that’s the word i’d use to describe him.

22. james: don’t tell sirius that reg and i just fucked. also james: “he’s in the shower”

bitch if you could be any more obvious

23. “Remus Lupin. If there's one good thing to come out of all this, it's him.” YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY! REMUS IS THE GOOD IN THIS

24. “”James, I am so grateful to know you, and so sorry that I had to. Every name that I call is a name I wish I never learned. Yours—you—will remain etched into my heart forever."” BITCH I CANT CRY OVER THIS- MY EYE MAKEUP LOOKS TOO GOOD TODAY TO CRY

25. “"I'll see you again soon, Regulus."” BITCH WTF THAT HURTS EVEN MORE THAN JAMES’ GOODBYE

26. maybe it’s been too long since i’ve read the books, BUT this fic seems to capture the absolute tragedy and horrors of it before it even starts even more

27. christ, not reg saying the “i don’t want to go” that hurts. like holy fuck. he’s still just a scared child. don’t put him in that arena

28. god, the way the death of james feels like sirius dying too. and sirius deciding that once james is dead, sirius will be too

how the hell is this people’s comfort fic???

29. not sirius having a lapse of memory and losing his memory of his last moments with james. that shit hurts

30. fabian <3333

31. 😧 wait fabian is dead. they just shot him. holy shit

32. gideon <3333

33. wait gideon is dead too.

y’all. i just-

this whole chapter was a fucking rollercoaster.

[cuttergauthier]

The Story Of Us

Kirby Dash x Female Strome Reader

Warning: Trade, Pregnancy, Fluff, Wedding

word count: 2.0k

This insta edit to Follow this pic.

let me know what you guys think🤍

The One Where He Gets Traded

I am currently in Kirby's home town, Kirby and I have been dating for 2 years now. I'm so glad my brother introduced us when Kirby first arrived in Chicago.

For the past 2 summers I've been coming to Kirby's hometown to spend time with him and his family.

It’s late in the afternoon, I am sitting outside on the porch swing reading a book, while Kirby was inside taking a phone call.

It is a beautiful sunny day. I am enjoying the sun shining on my face.

I heard the door open and closed. I looked up to see Kirby making his way to me. He looked stressed so I put my book down. He sat down next to me and let out a breath. 

I put my hand on his shoulder, looking at him worried.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Not really,” he sighed. He was looking at the lake. I put my hands on his cheeks and turned his face to look at me.

“What’s going on Kirby?” I asked. He started to worry me, did something happen? Is he going to break up with me? Is he going to tell me to go home?

I sighed before putting his hand on my right thigh. 

“I just got off the phone with my agent… I got traded” he said. My eyes widened. Oh my god.

“I’m so sorry Kirby… where are you going?” I asked. Is he going to break up with me now? I the aren’t going to be in the same city anymore. Is he going to ask me to go with him?

“Montreal, they’re going to announce it tonight at the draft.” He said

“Oh kirbs, it’s going to be okay” I said, he put his arm around me and pulled me closer. I laid my head down on his shoulder.

“What’s going to happen to us?” I asked

He sighed before kissing my forehead.

“I was hoping maybe you would come with me? But if you don’t want to i totally understand, we could always do long distance, all i know is i don’t want to break up.” He said, I smiled softly at him before I raised my head and kissed his cheek.

“I would love to go with you Kirby” I said, his eyes widened.

“Really?” 

“Of course, i love you, i don’t want us to be living in 2 different countries” i said

“I love you so much,” he said, smiling.

“I love you too, here’s to a new chapter in our lives” I said happily 

“I can’t wait to do it with you,” he said smiling.

The One Where He Proposes

Kirby and I have been living in Montreal for the past five months, it’s now the all star break. We have been dating for three years. I couldn’t be happier, as much as I miss Chicago, Montreal is amazing.

My brother Dylan is now in Washington, Chicago ended up trading him also.

Thankfully none of my brothers made the all star team so we all decided to go on vacation together to Hawaii. I've always wanted to come here, it’s absolutely beautiful.

Tonight is our last night here so Kirby said he wanted to take me out on a date so I am currently getting ready. 

I decided to wear a beautiful knee length silky pink dress. I curled my hair and put on some mascara, I didn’t feel like doing my full makeup since we are on vacation.

Once I was done getting ready I left the bathroom to see Kirby sitting on the bed scrolling on his phone. When he heard me he looked up and smiled.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he said.

“Thank you, you look handsome yourself,” I said.

“Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded. 

He got up, put his phone in his pocket and took my hand. We made our way to the restaurant.

The food was delicious, we talked and laughed the whole time.

When we left the restaurant Kirby looked at me and smiled, the sun was about to set.

“You want to go for a walk and watch the sunset?” He asked.

I smiled.

“I would love to” 

We walked to the beach which was only like 5 minutes. When we got there we took off our shoes and left them on the sand before we started walking by the water to watch the sunset. 

I kept looking at the sky. It was stunning, it took me a few seconds to realize that Kirby wasn’t next to me. 

I turned around to see where he went only to find him down on 1 knee with a ring in his hand. 

“Oh my god” I said shocked, My hands went to my mouth.

Kirby smiled.

“Yn you have made me the happiest man alive, you have been by my side for the past 3 years, i love you more than you’ll ever know, i want to spend the rest of my life with you, will you marry me?” He asked. My hands are shaking, and tears are rolling down my cheeks.

I started nodding.

“Yes, yes” I said shakily. 

He put the ring on my finger and pulled me in a kiss.

“I love you so much” i said

“I love you more” he said 

We heard cheering behind us. I turned around to see my brother and their wives along with my 2 nieces.

They all congratulated us.

I couldn’t be happier.

The One Where She Finds Out They're Pregnant

Kirby and i have been married for 4 months now and we have been trying for a baby for the past 2 months 

We had no luck.

I woke up a little later than usual, Kirby was already gone for morning practice. I got out of bed and put on a hoodie since it was chilly this morning. 

I went to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. Kirby won’t be back for 2 hours since Morning practice just began.

I started cooking some eggs and the smell made me nauseous so I put it aside, turned off the burner and rushed to the bathroom to vomit.

Once I was done I brushed my teeth. My eyes widened when I thought about what could make me feel like this.

I rushed to grab my phone to check when my last period was. The last time I should have had it was last month when Kirby was on a road trip but I never did. How did I not realize before?

I rushed to our bedroom and changed into leggings and grabbed my purse and jacket before making my way out the door.

I rushed down the street from our apartment building. There was a small pharmacy.

I went in and bought two pregnancy tests. The cashier lady smiled when I paid and told me good luck. I thanked her and made my way back to the apartment.

My mind was going crazy, could I really be pregnant? Or am I just stressed?

I went straight to the bathroom to take both tests. Once I was done I washed my hands and put a timer on my phone for 5 minutes.

Kirby and I really want a kid, so I am really hoping that the test says positive.

When the five minutes were up, I took a deep breath and turned both tests around.

My hands flew to my mouth, tears started rolling down my cheeks. We are having a baby.

I couldn’t believe it.

I didn’t want to wait to tell Kirby I was pregnant but I also wanted to do something cute. Thankfully Emilia Armina  lives next door to us, and she has 1 kid so I thought I could possibly ask her if she still has baby stuff I could borrow just to put in a box and I could give Kirby once he got home. 

I got out and went to knock on her door.

She opened the door and saw I had been crying so she pulled me in a hug.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly.

I nodded

“Yes, sorry i didn’t mean to worry you, i um… just found out I’m pregnant, i was wondering if you still have a little onesie and baby skates i could borrow… I want to surprise Kirby as soon as he gets home and he’ll be here in less than an hour so I don't have time to go to the store but I want to do something cute… i’ll give them back afterwards, "I rambled. She smiled big and pulled me in another hug.

“Oh my god, Congrats! I know you guys have been waiting for this” she said.

“Thank you” 

“Come in, I'll go get the stuff, “ she said smiling.

I nodded. We went in and she made her way to another room. She came back with baby skates and a cute little white onesie.

“Here you go, Kirby’s going to be so excited,” she said.

“Thank you so much, I promise I'll bring it back tonight.” I told her.

“No rush, take your time, and congratulations again, you and Kirby are going to be amazing parents, '' she said, giving me one last hug before I made my way back to my place.

I hate an old box in my closet so I took it out and put the onesie and the baby skates in it along with both pregnancy tests. I left the box on the counter so I can give it to him when he gets home. In the meantime I went and cleaned the food i didn’t eat this morning and decided to eat a bowl of fruits instead.

Once I was done eating I went to put the bowl in the sink when I heard the front door open.

Kirby made his way to the kitchen, when he saw me he smiled before making his way to me.

“Hey babe,” he said before kissing my forehead.

“Hey kirbs, how was practice?” I asked.

“ Not too bad,” he said. He made his way to the fridge and got himself a bottle of water.

“ I have something for you,” I said nervously. He looked at me confused.

“You got me something?” He asked. I nodded and gave him the box.

He looked at me then the box.

He put it down on the counter and I went in front so I could see his face.

He slowly opened it. 

When he saw what was in the box he froze. I stood there nervously.

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

“Are you serious?” He choked out.

I nodded with tears in my eyes.

“Yes” 

“Oh my god” he rushed to me and pulled me in a hug

“We’re going to be parents” he said

“You’re going to be a dad” i said

“I love you, and I can't wait for the baby to be here,” he said smiling widely.

“I love you more,” I said before kissing him.

The One Where They're Baby Girl Is Born

My due date was supposed to be yesterday, but the baby decided he didn’t want to be born yet.

We decided to stay in Montreal for the summer since I was 8 months pregnant once the season ended.

My parents came down from Toronto, Kirby’s parents and brother also decided to come down. My brothers and their wives said they would be here today. Everyone wants to be here to meet our baby girl.

It’s now 5 p.m. and I finally started having contractions but they are far apart so I knew I still had time before we had to go to the hospital. My mom called my Ob to let her know, so she’d be prepared.

At around 7:30 p.m. they were much closer apart so Kirby took me to the hospital. Our parents said they would meet us there.

After what took forever at 10:45 p.m. our baby girl was born, she was precious.

I’m holding her in my arms while Kirby sits next to me on the bed.

“She’s the cutest baby ever” Kirby said in awe and kissed the side of my head.

“I’m so proud of you, thank you for making me a dad” he said with teary eyes.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, i love you both so much” I said

“I love you both, my two beautiful girls,” Kirby said smiling.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Unwanted animal | part 6

Summary: Because that unwanted animal wants nothing more than to get out.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1283

a/n: bit of a shorter chapter, but still important

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

“You can’t go on this mission, Y/N.” Steve sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Oh, come on!” She groans, slumping on her seat. The team is in a conference room, gathering intel for today’s mission. “It’s been days since the incident and I feel completely normal. I can do this.”

“No, that’s final. We need to make sure the gas didn’t leave any lasting effects, besides, you need to rest.”

Natasha sets her hand on Y/N’s thigh, “Steve is right, honey.” The team knows of their relationship. “I’m going to stay here with you, so you don’t need to be out of the loop by yourself.” She grins, making Y/N smile too.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“We don’t expect you to be.” Steve gathers the files on one pile with a small smile on his face. He likes to see Natasha happy, she’s one his closest friends after all. “Do something fun, we’ll be gone the whole day.”

“But remember to wear protection!” Tony comments with a smirk.

Natasha and Y/N decide to take a long walk together. First, they walked through a park, stopping at a lake to feed some ducks seeds they bought from the corner store. Then they decided to visit the library and get Y/N a library card, as she has never read books for fun.

After this, they go to a busy shopping street and look at the things on the windows. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go on the mission.” Natasha says, holding onto Y/N’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other to the mass of people around them.

“It’s okay,” Y/N looks around the street, “at least I get to spend time with you.”

Smiling, Natasha squeezes her hand. They walk past multiple different stores, stopping in front of interesting looking windows. There are jewelries, clothes, home decor, alcohol and so on.

The stop in front of a antique store. “Do you want to v-“ Natasha turns to her side, but she stops talking once she notices Y/N isn’t beside her anymore. “Y/N?”

Frowning, she starts looking around her, pushing people out of her way to see better. She can’t see Y/N anywhere and she’s starting to panic, worried something bad has happened.

“Y/N!” She starts shouting. Her usually very calm demeanor during distress has completely disappeared. It’s almost like she’s not able to think rationally when it comes to her girlfriend. All she feels is instant worry and panic. This isn’t how she’s supposed to act. She picks up her phone and starts looking for Y/N’s number, but before she can click it, someone taps on her shoulder. She lets out a sigh of relief as she turns around, Y/N is standing there, smiling like nothing is wrong.

“Wow!” Y/N laughs as Natasha practically launches herself into her. “What’s wrong?”

“Where the hell were you? You just disappeared.” Natasha holds Y/N at arms length, her hands on her shoulders. “I was so worried.”

“Nowhere,” there’s a small smile on her face, “I was just window shopping at the store around the corner, didn’t notice you already moved on.”

“Oh.” Her hands drop. “Okay.”

“Come on, I want to see the rest of the street.” Y/N grabs Natasha’s hand and starts pulling her along. Natasha is still frowning, but she follows along, not wanting to dwell too much on it.

The microwave hums as it heats Wanda’s leftovers for dinner to Y/N and Natasha, the latter waiting in front of it for them to get ready. Y/N is nowhere to be seen, but this time she did tell Natasha she’d be gone for a moment.

She opens the microwave door once it starts beeping and portions equal amounts of food to two different plates. The smell of the food is out of this world. Natasha still doesn’t understand how Wanda is such a good cook, when she can barely make a cup of instant noodles.

Bringing the two plates to the common room, she sits down to the couch and waits for Y/N to come back so they could start watching a movie together. It takes a few minutes before Natasha can hear footsteps coming towards the room. Y/N walks into the room with a wide smile on her face, and her hands behind her back. “I got you a gift.” She sits down next to her, and gives her a box with a satin coating.

Natasha opens the box and gasps. There’s a gold necklace with a red teardrop pendant on it. “This is why you disappeared earlier today?” She turns around so Y/N can put the necklace on her. The chain is short, the pendant lays right between Natasha’s collarbones. She twirls it between her two fingers, smiling. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Y/N rubs her arm, “do you like it?”

“I love it.” She moves her hand behind Y/N’s neck and pulls her into a deep kiss.

She smiles into the kiss, pushing in to kiss her again before pulling away. “I wanted to get you something, to show you, that I love you too.” Natasha’s eyes widen. “I remember you saying that you love me after the gas, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to say it back, so, I’m saying it now. I love you.”

Natasha’s eyes are starting to get wet as tears gather into them, “I love you too. I really do.”

“Besides, I wanted to tell you that, you might think that you’ll never be able to wipe away the red from your ledger,” Y/N holds onto Natasha’s hands, who is listening intently, “but that’s okay, because it shows how much you’ve grown and changed. You’re a good person and your past cannot take that away from you. No matter how much you want to forget, the Red Room is a part of you, an important part, but you wouldn’t be here without it.”

“Thank you.” Natasha has the most sincere smile as she could have. She can’t fathom what she has done in her life to get this lucky, to have someone like Y/N with her. “I’m glad I’m here, with you.”

Y/N sets one of her hands on Natasha’s cheek, rubbing it with her thumb. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, because this is exactly where I’m meant to be.” She tilts her head, smiling as they hold eye contact with each other.

“I hope I get to be with you for the rest of my life.” Natasha whispers.

“You will, I’m not going anywhere.”

The two kiss before cuddling together on the couch, laying under a blanket. Natasha puts the movie on, and they lay there watching it until they fall asleep.

The cool air hitting Y/N’s face makes her smile. Her elbows are resting on the windowsill in her room as she looks at the bustling street below her. Anyone could get lost out there.

She has had all the privileges for a long while now, but she never opened her window before, mostly because she has been spending most of her time in Natasha’s room. But at this moment, being all alone in her room with an open window, she almost regrets not doing this more often.

The crisp air has made her nose cold, but she doesn’t mind. It reminds her of all the missions she used to be on in the rural parts of the world. She breathes in the freshness, and breathes out everything else on her mind. This moment alone makes her certain everything will turn out okay.

Everything is perfect.

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 5,600

Summary:  It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: This one has a fairly graphic description of something towards the end regarding death. 

Masterlist

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

The small bookstore looks nothing short of a location where a bomb had been detonated.

It hardly resembles the haven you had run into a little less than an hour ago, dust-covered and shaking, head and body increasingly vulnerable with every second that passed by. When you’d entered the building, numerous bookshelves had been standing throughout the floor space, symmetrically and strategically placed for maximum efficiency and exposure, each one bold and welcoming in the face of new and experienced readers. Rows and rows of colorful books had been placed lovingly on the shelves, every single one of them looking ready and eager for someone to pull it out and bring it home. Displays and racks of reading materials ranging from cook books to self-help guides to religious texts, and it was as if each item was a swift and earnest reminder of New York City’s diverse population and their reading needs and enjoyments.

The small shop had likely belonged to a small business owner, their blood, sweat, and tears shed in its foundation, a testament to their love for the written word and the journeys it could take a person on. 

And it was just…gone.

“Jesus.”

His response is soft. “I know.”

“If you hadn’t pulled us into the bathroom, then we—”

“Let’s not go there, okay?”

Your heart aches as you take in the scene, and your eyes lock onto the lone bookshelf that had somehow endured the chaos. It’s as if it exists solely to offer some sort of twisted and miserable reminder of the way the shop had stood so proudly only minutes before. Books are strewn across the floor, and though some are relatively unharmed, there are others that are burnt with only the spine and a few pages remaining, nothing left but words that have turned into ashes. 

Glass crunches under your shoes as you leave the bathroom and walk slowly into what remains, a soft breeze drifting in from the large hole in the store that had once been wide, clear windows. Heat drifts in, too, the feel of it sweltering, and where it had once been the simple heat of a beautiful spring day, it’s now sticky and bitter and utterly unwelcome. 

Matt walks cautiously ahead of you, hand slowly dropping yours as he makes his way to the front of the store, dark head tilting here and there as if focusing intently on something before deciding to move on. He expertly navigates his way around fallen bookshelves, sidestepping piles of books that have fallen and huddled together, and you follow behind slowly, your feet instinctively taking you through the same path he’s seemingly mapped out for you.

When he reaches the space where the windows had once rested, he stops and situates his body so that he’s angled halfway between you and the street, head once again cocked to the side. He lifts a finger to his lips as if encouraging you to be as quiet as possible, but it’s a hard task to accomplish with the way your heels continue to press into the glass, and each step clinks far too loudly. Your shoe catches on something, and you can’t help the swear word that loudly leaves your mouth as you regain your balance.

Somehow you manage to make your way to his side, cringing as you take in the full view of the street. You don’t have words for the destruction, to be honest. A slowly burning car lies on its side up the block from you, the freshly planted trees and flowers across the street are crumbled and smashed into the sidewalk, buildings are torn apart, gaping holes yawning wide with heaps of glass and brick spilling onto the street. The sight is something you’ve never seen before, and each second you spend staring at it, the further it stains and bleeds into your memory.

You guess you’ve joined the millions of people who have witnessed a New York tragedy. It’s a club you hadn’t ever thought you’d have to join, the kind of club that offers memberships with PTSD as the recurring charge, and it rocks you to your core. 

“This isn’t…this isn’t something we’ll ever heal from.”

Though he only says it in a barely-there whisper, the tone that manages to seep in is solemn and grave. “No. No, it’s not.”

Utterly sick to your stomach, you turn your head to face Matt, needing to see something besides the trauma seeping out onto the road. The cut above his hairline is still bleeding, leaving a small line of red trailing down the side of his forehead, and in this lighting it seems to be more severe than you had maybe thought it was. With a wince, your hand twitches at your side as if you want to wipe it off, but you force yourself to remain still. He had seemed surprised when you’d tried to help earlier, and you don’t want to throw him out of whatever he’s focusing on.

Your eyes shift back to the street reluctantly, and you note that, for some reason, you’ve been instinctively waiting on his go-ahead to begin the arduous journey to the subway station. Opening your mouth, you start to ask him what he’s waiting for, but he interrupts you.

“I think we’re good to go,” he says as his head snaps back towards yours. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, and you can see the glimmer of fear that flashes over a face that’s just as weary and exhausted as yours. “I don’t hear anything nearby.”

You nod immediately, sucking in a deep breath. “Okay. Which way?”

His head swings to the side. “The subway station is a few blocks north and two blocks west, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Matt blows out a loud breath, and you watch as he steels his spine in front of you. “Then we need to go right.”

You don’t question how he knows, instead choosing to gather your strength and wits for a journey that would normally be considered a short walk. But four blocks feels like a marathon away, feels like you’re making the walk between the Shire and Mordor, the trek likely to contain danger and trauma and fire lying in wait at every twist and turn.

The whisper of your name pulls you back to the bookstore, and the tone conveys a softness that is at an extreme clash with everything going on around you. Your head turns so that you’re facing him head on, his body seemingly undaunted and thrumming with an energy you haven’t yet seen on him. It’s almost like he’s taken all the chaos around him and suddenly focused it into something even stronger, something more determined than the things flying around the city like they own it. 

“You ready?” he asks, his voice shockingly calm for someone who is about to leave behind the only semblance of shelter he’s had since this all began. 

It’s your last chance to back out, but you wave it swiftly aside. “Yes.”

His nod is almost curt in its movement, the jerk of his head brusque and determined. Without a single second wasted, he steps over the small wall of brick that had once held up the glass, only a foot or so in height, dress shoes making their way from the carpet of the bookstore to the concrete of the sidewalk easily. He turns back to you before he’s even finished stepping outside, wordlessly offering his hands to you to help you clear the brick as well, fingers grasping yours tightly to help you maintain balance.

Matt lets go of your left hand once you’re settled next to him and swiftly takes a right, pulling you along behind him for a few seconds as if to make sure you’re still by his side, before releasing contact altogether.

You can’t run, not without risking a major fall or sprained ankle, but you trail after him as fast as you can, walking briskly and jogging at random moments to keep up with him. He notices pretty quickly that you’re unable to keep the pace he has set and immediately slows, keeping himself just a few steps ahead of you. He’s somehow able to dip and avoid large pieces of fallen debris that litter the sidewalk, and you once again follow the path he’s all but laid out for you.

His coordination and agility is far beyond what you had anticipated, even far beyond what you would expect from someone who has perfect vision, and you’re left feeling both confused and grateful for his navigation through the wreckage.

There’s a haze that’s settled over the city, one filled with ash and dust that’s been both kicked up from the normally filthy streets and created through the destruction of concrete. You do your best to breathe through it, do your best to see through it, grateful that the lenses of your glasses offer some sort of protection from something getting into your eyes. 

You try your hardest to focus on the mission, focus on the goal of finding shelter, but you can’t help the sheer horror and sadness that hits you whenever you look up long enough to see the level of devastation present. Your heels feel more unstable than ever as you walk, and each step you take is clouded in fear and anxiety, even as you move as swiftly as possible with every ounce of determination you can drag up.

“You with me?”

“Yes,” you quickly reply, fleetingly puzzled, because surely he can hear your heels scraping along the concrete and the way you’d stuttered out the word fuck when a distant crash startled you. It only takes a split second to realize he hadn’t been asking if you were behind him, but rather checking in on you to see how you were doing.

What strikes you, perhaps the most, is how deserted the streets are. Or, at least how deserted these specific blocks are, though, to be fair, you aren't super close to the hole in the sky. It could be a completely different story closer to Stark Tower, which sits a few blocks south and a few blocks east, and you're exceedingly grateful that your little slice of Hell's Kitchen is just far enough away from the main action. But still, even once you turn the corner, there’s no one. You’re not quite sure how it's possible. The island of Manhattan is home to over one million people alone, and the number of people around the city doubles during the work day. It’s a place where people flood into and recede from daily, like some sort of tide that washes up and retreats.

You leave your answer at the yes you had responded with, figuring it’s easier to leave it there rather than explain the way your heart continues to drop with every step you take. You don’t expect to get to the subway station unscathed, there’s too much going on around you, and far too much out there that can cause you harm. 

It’s the city that never sleeps, but even with the crashing and the explosions and the police sirens, it’s never felt more quiet. 

Where the fuck is everyone?

You guess, you hope, that people have found shelter. The opening of whatever portal had appeared over Stark Tower had caused widespread panic, people fleeing for their lives, crashing into and around each other in an effort to get away and get inside. But it doesn’t explain why New York suddenly feels like a ghost town. 

He may not be able to see the streets, but you’re completely positive he can feel the emptiness of them.

You suppose the invasion, if that’s what this should be called (how could one word ever begin to accurately describe the chaos?), had first happened approximately forty five minutes ago, give or take, plenty of time for people to find somewhere to go to wait out the shit storm that’s reigning down. For a quick moment, it makes you suddenly second guess your decision to head towards the subway station when everyone else is staying indoors, and you briefly wonder if Matt is feeling the same way. 

But you don’t know how long this is going to last, and while the bookstore had been a temporary solution, it certainly had not been a sustainable one, and right now the focus needs to be on finding something that could outlast the onslaught for as long as possible. 

The first crosswalk lies not too far ahead, and some part of you slows as you would at any other normal instance, but he keeps moving swiftly, clearly aware that there’s no need to pause for traffic. Cars and vans and trucks have been abandoned and left for fate to decide what will happen to them, many of them already damaged beyond any hope for repair. Most have their driver side doors open, as if the drivers barely had time to exit their vehicles, much less worry about closing the doors. Some vehicles have crashed into others, and you’ll never know if it was purposefully as someone tried to escape, or if cars were thrown into each other from the force of various explosions and blasts.

But all vehicles, or at least the ones you can see, are empty of people. You’re grateful for that, at least, knowing it means that the people on this particular block were able to find relative safety.

It’s a pretty straight shot from one street corner to the one across the intersection, and Matt makes his way across briskly, you hot on his heels, doing your best to keep the pace despite the way your feet are throbbing with each and every step. He’s extremely patient even in the urgency of the moment, somehow knowing every time your foot catches on something, quickly turning around and placing a hand on your arm for balance. 

It happens more often than you care to admit, knowing that each tiny tumble, however miniscule, is delaying the progress to the subway station. 

You’re not too far past the intersection, crossing in front of an alleyway, when he turns abruptly on his heel and pushes you into the gap between the two buildings.

“What–”

But he’s shoving the two of you down behind a giant green dumpster before you can finish your question, and his body twists slightly over yours. You cling to his suit jacket for balance with one hand, and place your wrapped up hand on the brick of the wall for additional support, your quads burning slightly as you hunch over. His form may be covering you slightly, but your face is still turned towards the entrance of the alley, and your eyes are wide as they stare over his shoulder, waiting to see whatever had spooked him. Nothing happens, not for a few seconds at least, and it rattles your nerves, your body already anticipating another round of terror.

Matt abruptly shifts, moving as if to cover you more completely, and it momentarily pulls your attention from the mouth of the alley. But you don’t think his movement succeeds in his goal, largely because your head is still completely exposed, and it certainly doesn’t stop your eyes from suddenly tracking the things that fly past the gap of the buildings, some sixty or so feet above the ground. 

They come out of nowhere, sliding into your vision as quickly as they leave, too far away and too fast for you to get a clear glimpse, but you’re one hundred percent certain that it’s one of the things that had been standing outside of the bookstore when the glass had shattered, stalking down the street looking for people to kill in cold blood, no remorse or empathy for the humans who call Earth home.

“They’re too fast,” he mutters, the sound harsh even in its low volume. “I can’t–I hear them coming, but they get too close way too soon. Not a lot of time to hide.”

“Fucking hell,” you hiss under your breath, twisting your head so that you can see better over Matt’s shoulder. “They’re everywhere.”

Your eyes shift to the face that’s mere inches from yours. “You can hear–? How far away can you hear them from?”

He hesitates for just a brief moment. “Far,” he says before taking a large, shuddering breath. It almost sounds painful, as if his lungs are protesting the sudden intake of oxygen. “But like I said, they’re too fast. I hear them and suddenly they’re right on top of us.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“I…yeah. That about sums it up.”

Matt stands up slowly, bracing his hand against the wall as he reaches up to his full height. You follow the motion, not bothering to cover the quiet groan that escapes you. Your body has been turned and twisted into far too many uncomfortable positions today, and you find yourself internally grumbling about the lack of effort you’ve put into exercise lately. Every muscle in your body hates you right now, and you don’t want to think about how sore you’ll be once the adrenaline has left your system.

“Are they gone?”

Head facing away from you, Matt takes a small step forward, his focus on something you can’t see or hear. You stay where you are, ready to duck back down the dumpster if needed. The ground is filthy, the pieces of trash that hadn’t made it into the dumpster littering the concrete, and you can’t help but allow yourself a moment of disgust. 

“It’s hard to tell” he finally says with a sigh as turns back to face you. His face is hard in its frustration. “They’re–they’re everywhere. Moving too fast to track sometimes, especially with so many of them. I can’t quite…I can’t be completely positive of where they’re at or where they’re going.”

Swallowing, you nod your head as if you understand, but you really don’t. “And you’re–you’re relying on your hearing to tell you where they are? From blocks away?”

“Yes,” he responds simply as he rolls his shoulders. The look he sends your way is as dry as it is nonchalant. “It’s not like I can use my eyes, so…”

You flush. “Right. Stupid question.”

Matt waves it off without much thought and places his hands on his hips. A loud bang sounds off from somewhere in the distance, far too close for your taste, and he flinches at the sound before straightening his shoulders. 

“So,” you say, resting back against the brick wall. Your voice is shaking, just a tiny bit, but the two of you don’t acknowledge it. “I don’t think the coast is ever going to be completely clear.”

He grimaces. “Agreed.”

“And we’re definitely worse off right here than we were at the bookstore. But we’re still a few blocks away. Do you think….? Should we just find somewhere else to go inside?”

“Then we keep heading north,” you confirm with a quick and decisive nod of your head. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face and you hastily wipe it away. “But we need to keep sticking to the side of the buildings. The alleys can help hide us if something comes our way.”

Shaking his head, Matt immediately rejects the idea. “There’s too much glass. And everything–everything seems so vulnerable here. They’re crumbling buildings so easily. We're so lucky that the one we were in didn't collapse completely when that thing landed on it. I still...I really think it’s safest to be underground.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably the best we can do right now.”

“Right. Ok. Let’s go.” You pass by Matt and make your way to the front of the alley entrance fully intending on taking a step back out onto the sidewalk, ready for this to be over and dreading every inch you’ll be walking. He walks up quietly behind you and appears at your shoulder, but somehow he must sense your reluctance because he doesn’t exit the alley.

The frown on his lips isn’t as severe as you’ve seen it so far, but it's definitely pronounced. “You’re hesitating.”

You deny the comment with a shake of your head, even though he’s partly correct. “No, I’m ready. It’s just…it’s a ghost town out here,” you remark almost helplessly, motioning towards the empty streets that he can’t see but can surely hear. “I haven’t seen a single person since we entered the book store. Where is everyone? Where did they go?”

Head cocking slightly, Matt’s quiet for a moment before answering a question that had been kind of rhetorical. “There’s people in the surrounding buildings.”

“What?”

“Yes, everyone has run inside at this point, I think.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Running an aggravated hand through his hair, he sighs and appears to give into what he was about to say. “But I…I think the glass makes them too vulnerable. People are standing too close to the windows, makes them too much of a target.”

“It’s a long story,” he tells you, and you watch as he sort of folds in on himself as if he’s let go of some sort of large secret he’s still not sure he should have revealed. But it only lasts a moment before he’s standing up tall again, head tilted up and mouth set in determination. “And I…I promise to tell you when we get through this. Alright?”

“How do you even know that?”

When. 

There were so many things to live for, so many things to keep fighting for as hell continues to break loose around you, but you’d be lying if you said that the thought of this man sharing something with you hadn’t just become one of them. You have a feeling it’s not something he’s shared with many, and you have the weird inkling that maybe he needs to tell you just as much as you need to hear it, if only to hold on to the thought that there could possibly be life after whatever the hell is going on in the city.

Not if. 

You stare straight at him, taking in the way he’s somehow managed to expose a vulnerability while also demonstrating his strength and determination. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The smile he sends you is hesitant, clouded by the heaviness of the situation, but it’s there, and it’s beautiful.

“Deal.”

Things continue to boom and shake, sirens continue to blare, but you follow Matt out of the alley way without question, once again allowing him to navigate and lead you through the piles of debris. He stays a few steps ahead of you, black suit jacket covered in dust and tiny tears that must have been a result of the windows that had shattered. His hands are clenched fists at his side, and the haze that has fallen over the city does its best to pull him in, but you refuse to lose and be lost by him.

The sun is still bright up ahead, even through the smoke and the fear, and the sight of it leads you forward, wanting nothing more than to have the opportunity to live and feel it heat your skin on a day that’s not shrouded by terror.

This block is just as eerie, just as desolate, as the one you’ve already walked down, nothing but random empty cars and scorched pavement, likely from the blast of whatever sort of weaponry these things are firing around with little care as to who or what would be in its path. It reminds you of a post-apocalyptic movie, the kind where there’s nothing left to save except the gas from a gas station or non-perishables from a corner store. 

You do your best to stare straight ahead at Matt’s back rather than the disaster that’s been painted around you, but you can’t help but glance up and down, left and right, mind still struggling to link the peaceful Wednesday afternoon to where you are now. You’re in a constraint state of disbelief, some part of you still on that street corner with your iced coffee in your hand, lip curled as you send Brenda’s call to voicemail, nothing on your mind but your painful shoes, unfinished spreadsheets, and the warmth of a sunny spring day.

The loud screech and following crash from a few blocks over pulls you back into your body with a jolt, and it leaves you feeling bitter and broken. Your skin feels itchy with the dust, your feet throb with every step you take, but you’re here, and you’re alive, and you—

Out of the blue, Matt falters. 

He’s not facing you directly, but you can see that his face has lost its color. 

You almost crash straight into him, the speed of your body nearly too fast to avoid running into his back, but you’re able to swerve at the last moment, coming to a stop just slightly ahead of him. He hadn’t tripped on something on the sidewalk, but he had stumbled, his body briefly losing his coordination as his focus shifted elsewhere.  

“Matt?” you immediately question, alarmed at how pale he’s gone. His name leaving your lips is half a started yelp and half a demand for an explanation.

He whips his head toward yours, seemingly startled at your presence, and you take a quick step forward to rest one of your hands on his shoulders. Shuddering, he leans slightly into the contact, face still far too pale for your liking, and you don’t hesitate to take another step into his space.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, lips open and dragging in a panicked breath. “At the next intersection,” he begins, throat bobbing dramatically, and it sounds like he’s forcing the words out. You wince in pain for him, because whatever he’s trying to say doesn’t sound like it’s coming easily. “Not the one we’re about to cross, but the next one…don’t…don’t look left.”

Confusion floods through you, and your eyes can’t help but narrow. “What? Why not?”

Matt’s mouth opens and closes twice before he speaks again, body once again shuddering even as he tries to reel himself back together in front of you. “You shouldn’t–it’s not…” He swallows, and the motion almost looks painful. The sun hits his glasses just right, and from this angle and distance, you can see the eyes that shift and dance over your face and beyond your shoulder rapidly. “Just try not to look left, if you can help it. Okay?”

You frown, unable to stop the expression. “I’ll try.”

And you’re not lying when you tell him you’d try not to look left at the intersection, but in all honestly, you wish you’d tried harder.

The bus is turned over on its side just a quarter of the way down the block when you take your first few steps into the intersection, and its hulking mass out of the corner of your eye catches your attention unconsciously. Before you’ve even thought it through, before Matt’s suggestion has a chance to repeat itself in your head, your head is turning to look at it.

You shouldn't have. 

You really shouldn’t have.

It's definitely not the only vehicle in the street, definitely not the only one that's been completely destroyed by the disaster, but it stands out, for obvious reasons. The whole thing is covered in flame, dark smoke weaving its ways out of the pores left often by the shattered glass of the windows, twisting higher and higher into the sky. A giant hole is torn into it, leaving parts of the metal hanging by mere scraps, the tires sagging even without the weight of the bus riding on them. 

But the worst part is the sight of the bodies burning inside. Broken, shredded, diminishing.

There’s a scream tearing itself out of your throat, the force of it as scalding as the fire that’s burning not half a block from you, and it’s a sound that belongs in horror movies.

Matt is immediately moving in front of where you’re turned, effectively blocking your view. But it’s too late, the damage is done, and the scene is something that will be in the back of your head for the rest of your life.  “I told you not to look left,” he says in your ear, his voice every bit as broken as yours, layered with the same levels of fear and grief as yours. “You shouldn’t have—”

But you’re pushing past him before he finishes speaking, your mind suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that someone could be in there, someone could be alive, someone could need help, and–

It’s primal, this feeling of urgency to get there, this feeling of urgency to pry apart metal if you need to, scalding your hands until they bled if it meant that you could help someone. But it’s also irrational, because even in the back of your head, you’re completely aware that there’s no one who could have possibly survived whatever ball of fire had been thrown at the bus.

The bus had been full of people on their way to work, teenagers skipping school, men and women on their lunch breaks. It had never stood a chance, not when something had locked on to its location and found it to be a suitable destination for its rage and need to destroy. Something that had once been so full of life was now nothing more than a pile of metal, heat, and burning flesh. 

Before you can get more than five steps away, Matt’s pulling you back into him, body once again coming between you and the scene. You try to step around him again, but he blocks you, his own frame shaky and full of horror as he wraps his hands around your upper arms to keep you from moving forward.

It fills you with a sense of panic, his attempt to keep you from helping those poor innocent people, so you struggle in his hold, ripping your body left and right to help loosen his hands. But he’s far stronger than you, and so even while he keeps his hands loose enough as to not cause any pain, his grip is still firm and you’re unable to move more than a few inches in either direction. “Let me go, Matt.” 

“There’s nothing we can do,” he tells you quickly, and the words seem hazy in your mind, as if your head can’t process and believe he’s telling you to walk away. “We need to leave.”

“What? No!  No, there might be people in there, we can’t leave.”

Matt shakes his head rapidly, and the slow, single tear that trails down his face alarms you as it cuts a severe line through the thin layer of dust that has collected on sweat-soaked skin. “There’s not anyone to…there’s no one we can help.”

“How do you know?” you wail, voice high-pitched and panicked, still trying to pull away. “We have to—”

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer into your space, hand dropping one of your arms and instead coming up to rest on your cheek. The other hand soon follows, completely cupping your face between hands that are every bit as nicked and cut as yours. “Hey, look at me.” Your eyes move from the plume of smoke that continues to rise over his shoulder back to his face. “There’s no one to help. I promise.”

“But–”

“I promise,” he repeats slowly, gently, and the words are so full of sadness that you almost need to take a step back. “There’s no one in there that we can save, sweetheart.”

The name doesn’t even register, but the rest of the words do, the clear image of death settling over you, even as gently as they’re said. You bury your head in your hands, the frames of your glasses digging into the skin of your right palm and the tie wrapped around your left, the shock too vicious and blinding even for tears. 

Choking back a dry sob, you squeeze your eyes tightly shut, flinching when the sound of something exploding blocks away reverberates through the city. The sound is startling enough to make you jerk your head out of your hands, and the danger you’re in by simply standing in the middle of the street, nothing hiding you from view and covering your head, sets back in. You take it as some sort of terrifying sign to finally move, nodding your head in a jerky motion and doing your best to compose yourself.

Even so, you can’t help the hiccup that escapes your mouth. “You’re…you’re sure? That there’s no one–”

His head falls forward slightly, his face displaying a sense of devastation that’s no doubt shared by all of the city. “I’m sure.”

Your eyes flutter shut as a shudder of grief wracks your entire body. “Okay,” you whisper in acceptance. It’s a painful acceptance, and a part of you still wants to run to the bus and check for yourself.  “Then we need to–”

“Yes,” he immediately agrees. 

“Okay.” You take a deep breath, one that scalds your lungs as the air moves in and out. You take a shaky step away from him and start walking, suddenly desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the bus that has already imprinted itself harshly in your head, forever scalded into your long term memory. You can’t let yourself stay here, you need to focus on what’s going on ahead of you and keep going, however anguished you feel about it. It wretches at your heart to leave those people so callously behind, knowing they deserve more than someone turning their back on them in their first moments of death. 

But you also know that you need to keep moving if you want to make sure you’re not added to the growing list of casualties, guilty of nothing more than choosing to live in the concrete jungle of New York. There will be a time for mourning, a time to scream and cry and wallow in a misery so large it would swallow you whole, but now is not that time.

And so, with one last look at the twisted kaleidoscope of reds and yellows and oranges bursting up from the overturned vehicle, you finish crossing the street, Matt just a few steps behind you.

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

The past day, a summary:

5:47 AM: I don’t think I can know this and not tell someone else about it I can’t be alone with this knowledge because I don’t know what to do now I think I need to go stare at a wall for a little bit but bts fanfiction based on foul lady fortune exists I am so so confused why does this exist I don’t know why this exists I’m just so confused why does the internet exist who reads foul lady fortune then is immediately like omg you know what I should do I should write bts fanfiction like how did that get from point a to point b what kind of a mental journey do you have to go on to get to that i have so many questions and I want answers to absolutely none of them also it is marked as explicit and I think it’s omegaverse I- who is reading this book and deciding to write bts omegaverse smut about it what kind of road does your brain have to go down where you read flf and the next logical step is to write 4,555 words of bts omegaverse smut.

5:58 AM: I’m trying to put myself in this person’s shoes. Just like. Imagine. You read this book. You enjoy the book. You enjoy the book so much that upon finishing it you think to yourself. Wow. I should write bts omegaverse smut about it. And then you do. In May 2023 you write 4,555 words of bts omegaverse smut that is apparently partially based on foul lady fortune by chloe gong. No one asked you to do this. But you did. And now it’s on the internet. And it exists. And it’s on the internet. And you put it there. And now. You go about your day knowing that you are responsible for 4,555 words of bts omegaverse fanfiction based on foul lady fortune by chloe gong.

7:10 AM: Somewhere. Somewhere out there there is a person who read foul lady fortune and the proceeded to write 4,555 words of bts omegaverse smut based on it split into three chapters and then published it on the internet in May of 2023 and they are presumably alive and living a life out there somewhere and I just have to go about my day with this knowledge and I don’t want to.

7:13 AM:I’m going to be on my deathbed someday and I’m going to remember this I’m going to die one day thinking about how somewhere there was a person who read foul lady fortune a young adult speculative historical science fiction novel set in 1930s Shanghai and written by chloe gong and then was inspired to write 4,555 WORDS OF BTS OMEGAVERSE FANFICTION ABOUT IT SPLIT ACROSS THREE CHAPTERS AND PUBLISHED IN MAY OF 2023.

7:14 AM: I don’t know how to persist knowing this information I am not strong enough.

7:21 AM: I am so tempted to read it now it is genuinely terrifying I don’t want to but also I want to know what specifically about foul lady fortune inspired this because I’m so confused

7:44 AM: I read it. It’s not even smut or anything remotely close to smut. It’s just. What.

7:52 AM: It was omegaverse though and I am still not entirely sure what the omegaverse is but I don’t want to know more than I already do and I don’t like it

*goes to class and takes notes despite being cursed with the knowledge of the flf bts omegaverse fic*

9:57 AM: I’m genuinely terrified that the person who wrote that may have seen or interacted with my tumblr posts. Like what if I have at some point in time interacted with someone who read the literary masterpiece that is the young adult speculative historical science fiction book Foul Lady Fortune by the Chloe Gong then proceeded to write 4555 words of BTS omegaverse fanfiction that they split into three chapters and published in May of 2023. What then. What do I even do with my life knowing that. And the thing that really haunts me is that I can never truly know.

10:27 AM: 4,555 words of BTS omegaverse fanfiction split into three chapters published during May of this year that is apparently based on the young adult speculative historical science fiction novel Foul Lady Fortune. This is a real thing that exists that I read with my eyes and now it’s in my brain it’s in my brain and I can’t get it out

10:40 AM: I do not say this as an insult or an attack on the person who wrote this but I want to study them in a lab

10:49 AM: I genuinely think that this is going to stick with me for the rest of my life.

10:56 AM: I want to be quarantined away from the internet. I need to go touch grass I need to go live somewhere with no cell service but if I do would it be too late would I forever be haunted by the idea that someone. Somewhere. Out there. Read Foul Lady Fortune. Then decided that they liked it so much they should write bts omegaverse fanfic about it. I fear quarantine would not be enough.

11:02 AM: Also. It was supposed to be based on Rosalind and Orion’s relationship. And I have seen many many many objectively incorrect interpretations of the New York Times bestselling masterpiece that is foul lady fortune by Chloe Gong. However. I do not think anything could ever possibly be more incorrect than omegaverse. So. Congratulations to the person who wrote that because they somehow managed to have worse reading comprehension than booktok which should not be possible.

11:10 AM: I genuinely think I might not ever forget this and from this moment on I will simply be trying to live my life while suppressing thoughts that do nothing but remind me that someone somewhere out there read flf and thought that something about it was just perfect for a fucking omegaverse bts fanfiction

3:14 PM: Okay. I watched a 40 minute video essay on the omegaverse. I now have so much knowledge that I never wanted that is now also going to haunt me for the rest of my life. I genuinely am so confused. How. How does someone read about Rosalind and Orion and be like. Aha. Omegaverse. I should put them through an omegaverse blender and project their personalities onto the versions of jungkook and namjoon from fucking bts that I made up in my head. This is a logical normal thing to do.

3:17 PM: THEY FUCKING. OMEGAVERSIFIED ROSALIND AND ORIONS RESPECTIVE PERSONALITIES THEN TRIED TO FUCKING COPY AND PASTE THEM ONTO THE MADE UP VERSIONS OF JUNGKOOK AND NAMJOON THEY HAVE IN THEIR HEAD. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY

3:34 PM: AND LIKE HOW THE FUCK. DID THEY CONNECT THE FUCKING OMEGAVERSE TO FLF

4:53 PM: Someone wrote bts omegaverse fanfiction inspired by flf someone wrote bts omegaverse fanfiction inspired by flf someone wrote bts omegaverse fanfiction inspired by flf. Bts omegaverse fanfiction inspired by flf is a real thing that exists on the internet and I read it. I read it with my own two eyes. All 4,555 words of it.

5:08 PM: There is a person out there. And they read Foul Lady Fortune, a New York Times best selling young adult speculative historical sci fi novel by the one and only Chloe Gong. And their first thought after reading Foul Lady Fortune was. Man. Yknow what I should do? I should put the two main characters through an omegaverse blender and project their fake omegaverse personalities that are not book accurate onto the fake versions Of jungkook and namjoon that I made up in my head who I have decided are gay and in love with each other. And this person wrote a 4,555 word fanfiction about this that they broke up into three chapters and published. On the internet. In May of this year. There is a person somewhere out there. Who did this. That exists. That is a real person. A real person who exists.

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 11: gambit

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again] [2: lost and found] [3: returned] [4: bound] [5: home] [6: gift] [7: reunion] [8: security] [9: secret] [10: prisoner]

wc: 6.6k

chapter warnings:  a teensy bit of violence, voluntary drug use

recommended listening: that's not fair - nct

Mark Lee [α, unknown Felid genetic composition] (3rd prince of the Lee dynasty, formerly 20th in line for the throne)

There's nothing particularly exciting about escorting their new ward a few floors to medical but he finds his heart racing the moment he gets Taeil's request, watching Donghyuck stop moving his haptics immediately in the window of their shared call. He'd tried to get the younger to weigh in on personnel rosters while they talked circles around your disruption of their business, all to no avail. 

Everyone is distracted, it seems.

"Back in the hotbox," Haechan sighs, ending his game abruptly and covering his face with both hands once his slimline visor is removed. 

"You could just stuff your nose with cotton balls or something," Mark says, a strategy he'd taken up the last time that scent had permeated his entire brain. He's not sure what you or even any other omega are supposed to smell like, but it certainly shouldn't be rancid fruit or the smell of flower stems left too long in water. 

"It's not my nose I'm worrying about. Give me five." Donghyuck lifts something up for the camera, the white plastic sleeve still cabled into his rig, hiding untold horrors.

"Fucking gross, man. No."

"Three minutes?" 

"How many times do I need to tell you I don't want to know about you jacking off–"

"Fine," Donghyuck raises his hands innocently. "Not my fault your balls haven't dropped yet."

"Meet me downstairs stat," Mark yells before disconnecting. He finds himself blanking out the moment he gets up, slight vertigo making him stare at the wall of his unit as if he'll find answers in the printouts held up with magnets and tape on the wall adjacent to his study, over his book collection. A tangled web he lives with every day, trying to understand why you’re here and not there. 

It’s weird–not knowing what you are. He’d done everything in his power to treat you like just another problem to be solved before they could offload it on someone else, the way Johnny had done when he’d left. But you’ve embedded in his brain, a splinter he can’t help but worry about since your admission.

“I don’t love him,” you’d said. There’d been sadness, of course, but something more firm beneath it in intention. Like you were thinking of someone else.

One picture seems to beckon most of all–a still from the grand ceremony they'd held when you'd been returned. He hadn't been in the Dome then, too soon after the surrender for the Syndicate to decide what to do with demilitarization, no victory for the losers. 

In his case the loss had been an open wound—his father's body found a week before armistice with the gun still warm in his hand, blood spattered across a childhood picture from a better era, when the firstborn and second born male twins and their triplet omega sisters had just been children. Dressed in robes fitting a different age, almost comical to think of now after a decade of Beta melo re-enactments.

Before the war–before bloodshed had cut all bonds between them.

Watching his aunt crawl back with you by her side, both of you dressed in white ceremonial mourning clothes for the dead Imperator, had left him feeling empty even as a child. His father had tried to bring peace and change to this stupid system and whatever little he'd accomplished had only led to the reinforcement of it. The ones left to mourn him and his cause could only do so in private.

Like his mother. 

She’d returned to the Dome, as well, head held high, no scraping and bowing for her dead father. Peace could only come with the voluntary surrender of the Lees to the Syndicate but she'd made it known she was not a willing subject, not like your mother. 

Or you.

After learning more about your own struggle, maybe he feels a little sorry for you. At least, he thinks, he's less nauseated by the sight of your face.

It's too bad that empathy can't extend to his latent animal brain; the urge to retch on the floor outside your unit increases the moment he's within proximity of your scent. 

Donghyuck joins appropriately late and hastily dressed in half of his gear, eyes bright and cheeks flushed in a reflection of how Mark feels even if he'd never admit it. He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head in disgust.

"Don't say anything," Mark orders, watching his best friend grin like an idiot as he pulls the air towards him with his hand–savoring it. 

"You have no idea." 

"I'm glad." Mark snaps. 

He gives you a courtesy of ringing the doorbell from the touchpad, adjusting discreetly into a stiff posture years of remote Academy teachings and active service have molded him into. 

There's no answer. 

Several rings later and he still can't sense or hear anything from the other side. He looks at Donghyuck to see if there's any alarm on his face to match what he feels.

"Probably sleeping," the other shrugs. "Just go in."

Mark would rather shoot out a window and throw himself off this floor than walk in on an omega in the throes of heat but his hesitation only lasts a few seconds. He forces the door lock open with a press of his agent against the security pad. 

Immediately he's struck by a wave of concentrated pheromones, stomach twisting but staying down as he realizes it's not as bad as he expected–mitigated slightly by the warmed-leather scent of the pile of clothing and bedding blocking the door. 

"What in the hell–?" Mark kicks through it, recognizing a pack-issue uniform tangled in the pillows and comforter. 

"Johnny's," Donghyuck answers, knowing he doesn't have the ability to discriminate scent profiles. "Jungwoo said she'd need it for her nest."

Mark groans, entering the room as cautiously as he'd cleared the school a day ago–wait wasn’t it three days ago? It feels like an eternity since that firefight. 

"____?" He calls, finding the bathroom empty and moving to the main chamber.

You're in a better state than he'd found you in than in Confinement, but not by much. That frail omega body is curled into the lower bunk around the same rucksack you'd brought with you, packed full of clothing. You're dressed, thankfully, in more layers than he expected–body shaking when he grabs your shoulder to give it a weak tug. 

"Are you okay?" 

You whine, burrowing deeper away from him. 

"No funny business, alright?" He finds himself warning, but it's not needed. Your skin is clammy to the touch, ears flat against sweat-damp hair as you protest him pulling you away from your cache. 

"Don't touch me," you say. It’s more of a growl, really, your voice deeper than he’s heard it. Something inside him sings to hear it, approving. He doesn’t have time to question it as Donghyuck panics, rushing to intervene. 

Mark elbows him in the gut so hard that he folds against the screen wall, wheezing.

“You forget to boost in those three minutes?”

“How could I?” Mark doesn’t need Alpha scent to recognize the younger is lying, staring Donghyuck down until he pulls out an inhaler and takes a puff. 

“Good?” Mark asks.

“Good.” The look the younger gives him is pure menace, lazy eyes darting to you. He ignores it, carefully watching your response. Your tail is dead weight on the bed, heavy for how still it is.

"We'll take you to Med, but you need to get up," Mark tells you.

“I can’t.” 

This time, when you speak, he believes you. 

Mark crouches on the floor beside your bunk, finding himself awkwardly unable to touch you lest Donghyuck lose it any more than he already is. His hand hovers over your ears, the fur tickling his palms. It's his first time touching them–he had no idea how soft they were. The sensation makes his pulse skip.

"Need . . . need to get out . . ." you whine. "I can't be alone. Need to get out of here."

"Okay." Mark doesn't argue with the request. "Can you get up?" 

You shake your head a bit. 

"Let Haechan carry your stuff," he sighs. "We'll help take you down." 

"It hurts," you say, quietly. "I'm so cold."

Can you be any more dramatic? he thinks, but doesn't say as much looking back at his partner to find his eyes wide, nostrils flaring and mouth in a thin line. 

"Don't move. Either of you." Mark says, retrieving a blanket from the pile near the door. He's not surprised that the moment he wraps it around your body there's an immediate relaxation in your shoulders, tail swaying under the new layer. 

"I'll carry you," he says with only a little bit of resignation. It takes effort to extricate you from your things but soon you're curled into his arms, those warm velveteen ears pressed up against his jaw as you cling to his tech vest. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, yelping a bit when he finally negotiates you both to a standing position, arm under your knees. "It just . . . it came out of nowhere.”

"What did?" Mark is grateful for the distraction as he carries you out the sliding door, almost tripping on more bedding. 

"Cramps." Your tiny reply carries a bit of embarrassment and he can't help but huff a laugh. Donghyuck is at his side sniffing experimentally, making Mark wish he had a free arm to push him back. He kicks with his boot instead, missing the younger Canid when he dances away. 

So much for having a second to help keep things in control. 

"We'll get you painkillers. Have you eaten yet?" 

You don't answer.

"I'll get food," Donghyuck offers, excitedly. "Anything you want or need–"

"Medical first," Mark orders. With your weight in his arms he's realized that the shivers in your body are involuntary, small quakes that seem to originate in your torso and spread to your limbs, making you rigid. Any doubts he had about your condition are beginning to dissolve, feeling you fight the pain to hold onto him. 

Thankfully Taeil is expecting you, helping him the moment the med wing doors slide open to get you into the nearest bed. He's relieved to no longer have you wrapped around him but there's a strange sensation in his chest watching the doctor unwind you from the duvet and check your pupils, attaching a remote monitor to your temple. 

"Why did you turn off your agent feed?" Taeil asks, tapping the screen on your wrist back to life. 

"Old habit," you murmur.

Mark watches your eyes slide to the right, towards the fogged view of the city skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. This floor is the lowest of their demesne, closest to the marine layer that reappears nightly no matter what sunset breaks through it. It’s late now, and there aren’t even stars to fixate on. 

"Your signal stopped hours ago. You need to cooperate or you're going to be in more pain than necessary." Taeil presses the face of his wrist worn agent to yours, initiating a data transfer.

It's rare Mark has seen Moon so agitated, realizing the older Alpha has thrown a white coat over sleepwear as if he'd been roused from bed. He's about to ask Donghyuck to get coffee when he finds the younger has already fled, your bag abandoned on the floor. 

"She'll live, I'm guessing?" Mark asks, watching the nearby screen pick up multiple waveforms. "What is all that?"

"It's standard to monitor her endocrine response through perspiration," Taeil explains, looking amused when Mark's expression remains blank. "Sweat. From her wrist gland." 

"Oh." Mark nods, keeping a straight face.

"She'll be in full heat within the next few hours," Taeil says. "We have a call to make."

"We do,” Mark nods. “Doyoung said–"

"We don't need any more orders," Taeil interrupts. "Let's discuss this in private."

You perk a little, still on your side. Mark catches the way your body adjusts and your ears swivel in your mussed hair. 

"Stay put." He doesn't add the tone shift of an order but you still give him acknowledgement in an eye roll. 

Taeil leads him to his own private quarters, keeping the glass doors programmed to mostly translucent as he shuts them. Mark is immediately struck by the disarray in the usually-clean room, the musty smell of Canid making his hackles raise.

"I've already messaged Doyoung. You're going to have to put her in Confinement." 

"What?" Mark is less shocked by the request than the look of resignation on Taeil's face as he watches you through the door. He coughs a little, as if to cover it.

"I've taken three dosages of suppressants in the past 12 hours. Do you understand?"

He glances Mark's way, glasses reflecting the low green light from outside. The sweatshine and the rough patch of growth darkening the doctor's chin all begin to make a little more sense. 

"Really?" He can't help but choke out. It's been years of working with the doctor and he'd never imagined seeing him lose his cool when he was needed the most. But then he'd never imagined you being dropped into their lives like a dirty bomb as Johnny had so articulately described.

"We can arrange for you to go to a rut hotel if you need to–"

"I'm not leaving." Taeil shakes his head. "If anything happens to her it's on me. But I need you to take charge and to keep us safe at all costs." 

"Keep us safe?" Mark is surprised at the use of words. "Not her?"

"She's the safety issue. Didn't you read the file I sent you?"

"I think I got it." Mark lies. He’s understood maybe one word out of the ten buried in scientific jargon but it was the debrief reports on investigation into suspected Nostradomina agent activity that had sunk in. If there’s one thing he understood it was infiltration. 

"I just don't think she's . . . we don't have any indication she's working with the Syndicate. Do we?"

Taeil grimaces. "That's not the problem. Do you understand why we had to separate her and the others?"

"Well everyone in the building but me wants to–you know."

He’s gesturing towards where he thinks Donghyuck is jerking into a potted plant but he ends up pinned in Moon’s unrelenting stare. The look the other man gives him is merciless.

"She's a liability. All reports indicate her kind are genetically engineered to take over a pack from the inside. Like an infection."

The words seem dissonant to the image of your body in a hospital bed, your eyes clenching every now and then in pain. Mark can't believe that something as small and vulnerable could constitute a real threat to their safety but he also knows instinct all too well. Growing up outside the Wild had just been a taste, seeing his kind in the throes of it in drills or in battle another thing altogether.

"Are you worried you'll go into jimseung like Jaehyun?" 

Taeil hesitates to answer. "I won't shift with my level of conditioning. Jungwoo and Yuta are safe, too . . . at least, I think. Both have exposure to omegas and aren't responding the way I am." 

"But they could." Mark says. He'd already gone over the results of Jungwoo's testing after the incident in Johnny's quarters–wanting to be sure the other Alpha wasn't playacting that he'd been perfectly in control. If Donghyuck or Jaehyun were any indication, holding it together in the presence of a ripe omega was too good to be true.

Whatever had happened, you'd been scared and hurt. He wasn't going to let that occur again, even if it meant grounding an asset.

"You have to understand she's something different. Possibly because she was raised in the Wild–some kind of new anomaly." Taeil paces the small area, wrestling with his thoughts. "I'm not in the right state of mind to do the experiments necessary to–"

"No. It's not necessary, period." Mark says, placing a hand out to signal he’s on board. "We get her through this heat cycle. You get through your rut. And then we figure out what to do with her."

"We need to put her in Containment, then." Taeil says. "Or . . ."

"Or what?"

Taeil doesn't look at him, crossing his arms as he takes in his unmade bed. 

"Accept our fate."

"No." Mark finds himself shaking his head, almost a little violently. 

"I don't want this as much as you do," Taeil says. “Too easy, too simple, really. But she’s embedded in the pack bond.”

"Johnny forbid it," Mark says, and he believes it. The prime Alpha's order always stood, regardless if he was present. Mark was willing to die by that rule even if the Canids had shown a marked dissent. Blaming biology and hierarchy only went so far–all of them were free agents and with nine people to manage they'd have to weather the storm together or suffer the consequences.

In this case, the risks were much too high to not face it together. Taeyong wasn't going to be himself for a few days–certainly not capable of making the tougher calls with the genetic bond you already shared.

No, that’s up to him, now. The understanding of it leaves him feeling more like a villain than a protector.

"No one touches her until Johnny allows it." He affirms.

Taeil opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He nods instead, reaching for the door control. 

"Do me a favor, Doc?" Mark says before he thinks too long about it. "Put her under, first? You can make it easy, right?"

Mark watches the elder's shoulders slump as he looks through the door at your huddled body.

"It's your call," Taeil says. "Hope we can stand by it."

"Do you feel better?" Mark asks, seeing you sitting up in bed.

"Infinitely."

You'd watched Taeil carefully as he administered the double injections into the dripline–waited until they were both distracted to pull the needle out of the connector port while keeping it trapped under the gauze on your wrist, pretending to look through your agent on your other hand. 

"You're probably starving."

You give him a weak smile. "Ramen isn't as good as I thought it would be."

"No," Mark agrees. "We'll get you the best meal ever when we get off lockdown. Whatever you want. Beef even."

Whatever you want, you think. Such a fitting testament to the next few minutes of stilted conversation. Taeil is hanging back like a beaten dog as you shyly answer Mark's questions, at some point sniffing his own clothing and making a face of revulsion.

Thankfully you hadn't waited long–not with the call that comes into Mark's comm. Again he'd gone into the next room, distractedly pacing as he talked to Yuta over his in-ear.

It didn't matter that the room was soundproof. You can tell your gambit has paid off by the absurdly annoyed expression on his face as you follow the conversation while making meaningless gestures on your wrist pad.

Mirroring Taeil's agent line had been simple. A beginner's hack, really.

Let the NSPD take care of it.

It's not a security vulnerability if you bring the whole team on. 

They'll answer to you if I tell them to–

No. No. Okay. 

Alright, alright. I'll be down in fifteen. 

Five, alright.

I have stuff to take care of here. No. Not that. 

Fine! I'm on my way.

"I need to take care of business on the sublevels. Are you alright resting here with Taeil and Haechan until I get back?" Mark asks once he's emerged again, only a corner of his mouth lifted. He's so very good at hiding his anxiety but you can smell it on him distinctly–sour lemon and a hint of bilgewater. You’re nauseated, as if you’re on the sea again.

"Haechan said he's making me something delicious and then I'll get some sleep, I think. I'm tired," you say, giving him a look of relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Mark. I couldn't think straight with how much pain I was in." 

The words make you sick. The pain is interminable. You've kept the scream pressed between your gritted teeth but it's always there, like the lump in your throat and the slick between your thighs.

Containment. 

Put her under.

You'd met Mark's eyes when he'd said those last words through the glass and combined with your physical agony it had only strengthened your resolve. 

If you're going down, it's with a fight. You know how to pick your battles now that your main opponent has chosen his proxies.

Mark leans down over you to take your hand and you offer him your left quickly, squeezing it in your damp grip.

"It won't take long, he assures. "I'll check on you when I'm back. Please make sure to eat before you sleep." 

If you knew better you'd think his concern was genuine. You blink at him lazily, exposing your teeth in what you hope is a genuine smile. 

"Wake me up when it's over," you joke. 

"Soon," he says, and then he's out of the ward. Only that bitter rind scent remains, made worse by the brushfire of Taeil's rut setting in. 

You'd suspected enough after yesterday's confrontation but it's something else to scent a day's worth of Alpha stewing in his quarters. Over the cloying scent of disinfectants and the drug supplies you can’t help but scent through their refrigerated seals is something much more damning. Your doctor is compromised.

Good, you think.

Whatever rationality you're holding on to is disturbed by it. Unfortunately everything else piloting finds the Alpha’s scent criminally seductive. Right now Taeil smells like crisp white lychee, ripe beneath a prickly skin.

He’s still something of a mystery to you. Canid and an Alpha, yes. But no one recognizes him as such. Paying lip service to another omega, just doing his duty, unallowed the taste of what any of them would desire. He has to feel the pull the way you know his little helper does, the way Jungwoo did when you gave him the space for it. 

He's even more attractive, sleep-touched, glasses askew in his hair—especially when he attempts to hide what you already know is happening to him. You've watched him step back, shoulders hunched, unable to make eye contact. 

Yes, you think, he’s hooked. Now to pull in your catch.

Mark has disappeared long before you make your move. You’d be found out if you simply got up. Instead you make a tormented noise, adjusting in the bed. Pleasure roils through you when you see his back tense at the sound, more when he refuses to look at you.

"Hey," you say. "Could you lend a hand?"

Taeil turns around, head flinching a bit as if he's afraid of what he'll see. 

You beckon to the floor beside the bed.

"I brought some of my things. Kind of stuck here," you add, lifting your wrist. The needle doesn't pop free, but you're conscientious of the drag of the cannula as you disturb it.

"Of course." He says. He's still wary as he foists your pack onto the bed. As soon as you unzip it he puts distance between you, the animal present in his quick glances over his shoulder.

"Thank you, doctor," you say. "I appreciate you letting me stay here overnight. I felt like I was dying." 

"You're not . . ." he begins, immediately deflecting. "We'll make you comfortable for your stay for the next week."

"Week?" You ask in a hushed tone. "Will it hurt like this the whole time?" 

He swallows. "Most likely."

Your lip wobbles with effort, tears a little easier to produce with the knife-in-your-gut radiating pain.

"Don't worry," he says, rapidly. "I think I finally found a method to mimic cryotherapy. We'll insert a central catheter and keep you on a steady infusion of parental nutrition and sedatives. It's a last resort, but you'll be–"

"No," you say. You infuse the word with the hours of time you'd spent in a similar position, shepherded into a dreamless state by types just like him. Imperial physicians who considered your body an object at their disposal, to be treated or used alike. 

No, indeed. Never again.

"Please don't make me do this alone."

Taeil moves forward unconsciously, eyes lighter than you remember. For a moment you wonder if he's breaking already.

But then he's heading to the far side of the bed—most certainly to check your IV.

You dump the contents of your bag across your legs. Taeil pauses, catching sight of the object amidst undergarments and flimsy lingerie–all of which you'd worn recently. 

The satisfaction you experience seeing him falter is worth the shame of all that scent and that horrible thing Jungwoo had given you laid bare. 

"I'm so sorry," you improvise, stuffing everything back in your bag one-handed. "That isn't mine. I forgot I hid it there." 

"It's fine." 

It's absolutely not fine, if you're registering his panicked response correctly. 

You pretend to hide the toy, only furthering the comedy of the situation by clutching onto twenty centimeters of soft synthetic cock and fumbling it in your offhand grasp. You look up at his blank expression, stuffing it away innocently.

"Jungwoo gave me it," you say. "I haven't used it."

Taeil's throat bobs conspicuously as he occupies himself with his tablet, unable to make eye contact. "It's a very common aid. You may want to keep it . . . for later."

"I wouldn't know how to use it," you admit.

For once he's silent. You let it hang, pulling out a blocker spray you'd been retrieving as you wait for him to fold.

He says something quietly under his breath that you pretend not to catch.

"Sorry, what?" you ask, tiredly.

"Videos. There'sinstructionalvideos." The last part is a bit muffled as he covers his nose and mouth at the offending mist as you apply the spray. 

It's another little ploy you'd thought of in the past few days, after remembering something Wooyoung had said. The Alpha attractor was one of your more expensive purchases but you'd had to have it–curious what similarities the perfumer had captured to your own scent.

Majesté Impériale had been woefully dissimilar besides a few top notes but the synthetic pheromones were worth the price tag, judging by the way Taeil has moved away again.

"My apologies. I don't think this blocker is any good." You say, dousing yourself. 

"Please," Taeil answers from beneath his sleeve. "It's not going to do much at this point."

"Oh. Well. Can you show me that video?"

The silence returns, this time punctuated by the tap tap tap of a stylus as Taeil considers your request. 

"What video?" He asks, voice distant. 

"The instructional one?" you ask innocently. 

To his credit he shrugs off any embarrassment, back to practicality, but you can't miss the red blotches on his nape as he turns to regard you again. You know you're on thin ice but you cherish the fact that he's affected.

"I'll be happy to send it to you when you have your VR rig and are in a more comfortable environment," he says, mildly irritated. 

"Of course," you demure. You add a lazy tone to your voice. "Thank you for taking care of me."

He has the audacity to laugh. 

"You're surprisingly compliant tonight, Princess." 

50 ccs of ketamine by IV drip will do that, you think, a twinge of regret that you aren't experiencing it.

"I certainly feel better," you say, yawning. "Just . . . really sleepy."

"Good," he says, adjusting his glasses back onto his nose. "You should get some rest. I can wake you up whenever the brat is done burning down the kitchen. I should probably go check on him, actually."

You pretend not to respond, burrowing into the pillows and concentrating on slowing down your breathing and heart rate. There is some truth, you know, to the presence of Alpha pheromones being a sedative and analgesic in this state–but it's nowhere as good as the fluid dripping useless down your wrist.

You keep your ears and tail still as you hear the doctor approach you again. It's not like you can hide the brainwave monitor but you lean into your meditation exercises for that. It won't be long, after all. 

Taeil is wary as he approaches, not buying your act but too distracted to anticipate danger. You can smell the blockers on him, also useless with the onset of rut. His bloom is woodsy with a hint of spice–safe and delicious to your fox. You let her unfurl a little when he's close enough for you to feel the heat from his body—radiating cleansers and traces of bitter-sharp that you suspect are remnants of release from earlier. 

How many times had he come to the fantasy of you already, you wonder. The thought is surprisingly satisfying, accompanied by the memory of watching Jungwoo earlier. Warm skin so close and willing to be explored, blood pumping heat to your sex and bringing precious fluid to the surface–

"____," he says. "You can stop pretending. You should have gone under three minutes ago." 

You don't give him the satisfaction of springing awake, or moving at all. A calloused hand presses down your ears and they barely twitch, but something else deeper inside you does at the petting. You let go a shuddering sigh. 

Immediately Taeil freezes. You resume breathing deeply until he settles, giving your ear a sharp tug. 

You stay still. 

You wish he'd continue–wish he'd touch you more in an effort to test your resolve. 

In your own fantasies he'd undress you and prepare you for the procedure while you fought to remain unresponsive, letting him slide his hands down your naked body without resistance, using you for his own satisfaction as you stifled any sound–

"Last chance," he says, angling your head away. "Stay down."

The order thrums through you like a shockwave.

You hear the click of the penlight before your eyelid is lifted and with that first sliver of light you make your choice between the syringe under your pillow and your own, personal, last resort. 

You choose the worser form of violence. 

You seize his wrist and bite into it with all your might–still, technically, staying down.

"No!" He jerks away, free hand connecting with your skull so hard your vision flashes white. He fists your hair to break your hold as hot sweetness floods your mouth, that trickle matched by the one soaking between your legs.

You look up at his bloodless face as his grip goes slack, unable to fight, eyes pitted with the sudden dilation of his pupils. 

After a few seconds you loosen your jaw, licking softly at the shallow wound . . . as if you were truly apologetic. The whimper he makes is pathetic, eyes scrunching closed at the heavenly sensation. 

"I told you if you drugged me again you'd regret it," you say, between swipes of your tongue. "You didn't give me a choice."

"I was trying to help you," he says. He pulls back your head with a sharp yank, freezing the moment you let out a mewl of pain. He lets go, instantly, bewildered.

"This is the kindest thing you've done for me since you saved my life, Taeil," you say, kissing his wrist before you release it. "I remember."

"I shouldn't have," he says.

Under the warm glow of your successful conquest you feel the sting of his words.

With the bond in effect he can feel it, too, regret flitting across his dazed features. He's angry with you but it's the same irritation as if a fly were buzzing about his head–not the response of a man who's just lost his free will.

"At least you're being honest," you say. It feels good to know it, finally–to not question everything being said or done to you. 

"I thought so," he says, checking the cannula and finding your pulled out IV. "No wonder you're still in pain."

"Stop," you order. He holds, unable to continue re-inserting the needle.

"Please let me give you something for it, at least." It's almost begging for how clearly desperate he is for relief from the pain transferred between you. Sweat drips into his sideburns, trickling down his neck.

"First time knowing what it feels like to be one of us? You'll be such a better doctor after this. Maybe even a better Alpha."

"Doubtful," he responds. 

You laugh. Just as suddenly you regret it, doubling over as a fresh wave of agony ripples through you.

"Fuck." He collapses against the bed on his side as the pain crests, sucking in sharp breaths with each aftershock. Once it subsides he's barely standing.

"How was that so fast?" he muses. You know he isn't referring to the cramps. "It only took a few seconds. I could have recorded the recombination . . . Studied it . . ."

The fact that he's more upset at missing data instead of being bondmarked confuses your fox, but you cherish it. He really wasn't a bad first choice.

"I don't know why. I'm sorry."

"No you're not," he huffs, smearing blood across the sheet as he picks himself up. "I can feel that, you know. You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Stay down." You repeat his order back, savoring the flavor of it on your blood-soaked tongue. You can't help but enjoy this new invulnerability, the way his knees buckle and he's forced to hold on to the bed rail.

"Only once, after Johnny," you explain. "One of the new eunuch bodyguards they gave me was an Alpha spy. Like you, I suppose–chemical castration only."

You stuff down the revulsion at the memory, stalked through the gardens by what you thought was just another foot soldier for the Syndicate. You were used to your share of creeps even amidst the eunuchs but you’d recognized that Alpha stench the moment he’d pinned you in the grass. He'd almost had you, the knife your mother had made you carry in your sleeve useless against his disproportionate strength and speed.

"He only made it a few days before he tried to claim me. I managed to bite his hand when he tried to cover my mouth to keep me from screaming. And–well. All I had to do was ask nicely after that. He would have turned himself in, if I hadn’t asked him to help me by ending his own life."

Taeil watches you carefully, a wave of impression bringing you distant traces of satisfaction under the horror. He likes knowing you can protect yourself, you think. Your fox is singing with joy at the first positive feedback it's received from him without a barrier.

"I didn’t think he would do it,” you say, truthful now that there’s no need for secrets between you. “Do you know, he was still begging for me until the end, even after he shoved a blade into his own heart?"

You dig your nails into your forearm, drawing blood. Taeil mirrors you, clutching his bitten forearm at the pain and collapsing across the bed. You pull him to you, cradling his narrow shoulders. He doesn't fight at all, laying prone across your legs.

"I would have done it sooner but I wanted to give you a chance to do the right thing, since you saved me before," you say. “I’ll be kind and give you the choice to help me. Again.”

The man in your lap is completely yours, easier even than you expected. You stroke wild locks from his forehead, savoring the ambergris and musk released as he buries himself in your scent, finally. Your own pet–a decade in the making.

If you'd have chosen to bite Taeyong somewhere more vulnerable–nearer his scent gland–maybe you'd have been able to avoid this altogether. It had felt too risky at the time, too likely to get you in trouble. You'd been proven right.

The truth of your nature isn't something any of you can avoid now. 

Either they accepted you, or they killed you. You weren't going to wait and find out which. 

"You will help me, won’t you? Don’t you want to make the pain stop?"

"Guess I don't have to ask you your levels anymore," he jests, disarming you. “You should take something.”

"There's an easier solution to all of this," you say, thinking of what he’d said earlier. “Accept your fate.”

"What?" Taeil's face is buried in your belly, only a layer of synthetic down separating you. Your fingers drag lightly over his skull.

"Mate me," you say. "Maybe if you're a good Alpha I'll let you claim me, too."

His shoulders move with what you assume is a fight against his own instinct. When he finally turns his head to blink at you lazily you realize he's laughing at you, again.

"How is that funny?" you ask.

"Oh I could. We all could. But you'll just get worse," he says, slurring a little.

"What do you mean?"

Taeil's amber-touched eyes unfocus, settling on your neck. "Your heat. Won't break. Not until . . ."

He reaches for you, gesticulating a bit before his hand flops down. You panic, feeling more than seeing him begin to slip away. It feels a little like drowning again, watching your Alpha disappear into the waves of unconsciousness.

"Taeil?"

Something is terribly wrong, your animal brain unable to parse why as he slips out of your grasp, toppling a tray table in the process. A flash of yellow-white tubing follows.

You spider out of the hospital bed, dropping to the cold tile on top of his prostrate form and ripping out the needle he's secretly inserted in his forearm.

"No, no, no, stay with me–" you plead, slapping his jaw. "Don't leave me."

"Not gonna die," Taeil chuckles, unfolding on the tile. His white coat is spread like wings under his sleepwear, darkened with sweat, what looks suspiciously like an erection tenting his pants. "Just. So . . . high."

"Stay awake," you order. 

His eyes flutter open for a half-second, looking up at you with dazzling affection. 

"Good luck, princess . . . you'll need it."

Then he's out like a light extinguished, mouth partially open. You rock against his hips, with zero response.

"Wake up!" You yowl, already finding the shape under you flagging, your body desperate for him to return the favor.

You repeat his gestures to check his closed eye, his pupil barely responsive. He breathes shallowly underneath you as you curl over his chest, fists balled in frustration.

One down, five to go.

It's going to be a long night.

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

[takeshitakyuuto]

Trigun Book Club reading update volume one

This is my first full experience with Trigun, and I am participating due to my civic duty as a tihylttw fan. よろしく～

What I know about the series already:

Space western! (+)

Vash is a twin? with someone named Knives?

Something about gods that I don’t understand and don’t want to

Kitty :3

I am infamous far and wide for my loquacious book club participations, so from here on out will be under read more. Spoilers for volume one of Trigun only

My usual file reader was glitching out so I had to find a new one to read this volume and oh my god the text is so tiny. why. thank god for zoom (and furigana)

Ch 1. Okay Vash’s fit is fire. Fashion icon

I really like the world building we get right off the bat. The little sign showing the day’s crimes was funny, clever, and really establishes what we’re dealing with.

Vash’s “death” chapter one? oooooo I really like where we’re heading with him...

He gave a child a pistol?!?!?!? childcare king tbh

So far my favorite character is the blonde lady with the huge gun (Milly?)

Ch 2. The appearance of The Cat!

Are these... human cars?

Freckles asking the questions I’ve had all along! I’m excited to see what Vash’s “quest” is and why it would put such a big bounty on his head, especially since he seems like a guy with strong morals.

*Gets “KISS MY ASS” tattooed on my hand* no you don’t understand, its a Trigun reference. So you know the genre space western? Hey, why are you walking away, I’m not done yet!

Ch 3. Does this place have a government???

Jack pot!!

Yaoi proportioned Vash

Oh the lesbians are from the government

I love Vash realizing the power of lesbians

Ch. 4 Vash the Stampede: impervious to bullets, but not to grate corners

Is this chapter 5 now? Bad Lads Group is an absolute top tier name for a terrorist organization

Oh boy the introduction of Rem. What a great introduction, I can’t wait to see what relationship she had/(has?) to Vash. Based on that little dream of his, I don’t think she’s alive anymore or at the very least has no contact with Vash

Ch 6. チビスケｗｗｗｗ

I might just be because they’re both space westerns but this is also giving me more and more Cowboy Bebop vibes in the way of I never know who’s going to be a recurring character or just in it for the chapter. I’m sure as the series goes on though we’ll start seeing more overarching plot and less “Vash Gets Himself Into Sticky Situations”

Also, this dude loves jumping out of windows

Ch 7. A Chapter called Rem? Excitingggggg

Ya’ll weren’t kidding when you said that the art could be a little hard to understand... I thought Vash got shot but it was someone else’s blood 🥵

Vash calling the group understaffed and then immediately opening a door to see a horde of grunts... the comedic timing in this series is impeccable

Oh look, おわり！

Final thoughts: I thought this was a solid first volume! It’s very out of my element- I don’t read much shounen and I read even less action series. It took me a while to get used to the shounen style of Japanese (unexpected yet happens every blue moon that I decide to pick one up) and the action vocabulary was also difficult, as I never see any of it. Okay enough about language learning, we’re all here for the plot. I still feel like I’m not completely sure about what the plot is, but I also know that that’s fairly typical with manga. I liked the recurring characters that we were introduced to and it opened up plenty of questions to be answered later. As for Rem, she seems like some sort of God character (as opposed to a god character). As for my favorite characters from the volume, it stays Milly and ohmygodijustforgothername Meryl. Let’s see if I stay on track with the reading or if I decide to read ahead :3c

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 2. (bonus) - The Lost Polaroid

Click here for Part 1!

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Summary: Katsuki and You managed to talk about your part mistakes and you are ready start everything over after avoiding each other for 5 years. You are excited (and stressed) about your upcoming first date and your childhood best friend/love refuses to leave your side for the night. You also find a long lost polaroid picture and go down the memory lane with your favorite blonde companion.

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Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: Mentions of depression, swear words here and there. Tiny bit suggestive? (Barely)

English is my second language, please be nice!

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The weather outside got more and more chilly as the time has passed, and not even your best friend’s cuddles can warm you up enough to not start shivering.

You two haven’t said a lot since Katsuki’s confession. You are both a bit overwhelmed by the sudden turns of events, and to be honest, you enjoy the silence right now.

This is the first time in 5 years that your head is not full with harmful thoughts; It feels like everything just stopped for a second and there is nothing else in this world, just Katsuki and You cuddling on the cold stones, unbothered by the ruckus coming from the inside.

“We should head back. I’m not the only one who wanted to see you tonight. They all did.” Says the blond next to you, giving you a final snuggle and a kiss on your forehead.

Needless to say, you really don’t want to let this moment go away. With a sigh, you crawl out of Katsuki’s embrace and move towards the door but it doesn’t take more than 3 seconds for the blonde to be by your side, his tanned arm already resting around your shoulders.

You love how all your actions can be interpreted as friendly but deep inside there is so much more to every touch. You try to keep a straight face and not let the blonde know how hot your skin feels like under his touch. He doesn’t need to know that, his ego is already way too big.

It didn’t take you too long to get comfortable with your old classmates; you are almost sure that Kirishima asked the group to not to mention your budding romance until you two are ready to talk about it. You didn’t mind them knowing and they already did know anyway, but you honestly have no idea how your date will go tomorrow. You guys might be all over each other in the heat of the moment but maybe after calming down, one of you will retreat. You read enough romance books to know that the most burning fire is the easiest to put out when it comes to human emotions.

You are just about to get lost in your own thoughts again after trying to keep up with the conversation for the last half an hour when you feel a hand touching your waist. Thanks to the sudden touch you slowly come back to reality.

You are alive. You are loved. For the first time in 5 years, you are not alone. Yet here you are stressing over a stupid thing that only exists in your head, in the middle of a conversation.

“Guys, we are gonna’ go now before this idiot gets all EMO on me again.” Says the blonde. “I don’t think I’m ready to put eyeliner on and listen to My Chemical Romance until 5 in the morning.”

You know you should be offended but you can’t help but laugh. You guys actually did that once. You were really into EMO when you were young and you once gave Bakugo an EMO makeover while listening to MCR in your dorm room.

Your best friend liked the look so much he decided to add some eyeliner to his hero look, and honestly, it was the best decision of his life.

After saying your goodbyes, you make your way to Katsuki’s flat to get his stuff. His place is huge but free of any clutter which makes it feel empty and sad. You knew your best friend well enough to know he is a clean freak, but seeing his home so bare makes your heart ache.

“I didn’t feel like decorating. I only come here to sleep anyway.” Says the blonde and disappears into the hallway. You look around a bit to find the tiniest hint of life in this bare room but you fail miserably, so you make your way to his bedroom to see his secret All Might stash.

And boy, you were absolutely right; the rest of his flat might be bare and lonely but this room is so unapologetically him, it makes you laugh. All might figurines all over the walls, dark bedding, black furniture with orange and green bits and bobs all over the place. The dark walls make the room feel smaller, but honestly, his bedroom is huge anyway so it doesn’t really matter.

“If you wanted to come into my bedroom so much, you could have just said so.” Smirks the blonde and you can’t help the blush that’s slowly crawling down your neck, making you look like a nice, ripe tomato.

This man is going to be the end of you. You might be over the age of being all shaky when flirted with, but this is the man you’ve been in love with since your first year of middle school.

“Sorry” You stutter and step back to the hall but before you could run away, strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you in a warm embrace.

Katsuki’s hugs are something else. People think this man is not capable of love and affection, but those people have never been embraced by this bulky man. The way he pulls you in, the way he throws all his ego right out of his window and hides his face in your hair, the way he takes in your scent and gets lost in it, the way he closes his eyes and pulls you even further towards his body to have you as close as he can, the way you feel his fingers grasp into the plush of your waist so hard it almost hurts but it also makes you want more…

Fuck, you guys will have a really long night today. You honestly don’t think you will be able to sleep in the same building as this man.

You quickly clear your throat to get some attention from the blonde, who almost literally melted into you at this point.

“Sorry to ruin the moment, but if we continue doing this we might not have anything to do on our first date…”

To your surprise, Katsuki is just as embarrassed as you are, if not more. So you weren’t just imagining things then; this embrace really wasn’t a friendly one. He nods in agreement and quickly puts his stuff into a duffel bag and just like that, he is already by his door, ready to leave the building.

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It takes about 20 minutes for you two to get to your apartment. While Katsuki lives in the fancy part of the city, you are perfectly fine with your small little flat in the middle of nowhere. You were actually really surprised to find a street so calm and quiet in this busy city.

As you open the door, you can hear a small thump and 4 little paws running towards you.

“Calm down, Katsudon!” You take the little rascal in your hands.

“You did not just call that dog KATSudon.”

… Oh, fuck.

You genuinely forgot about the fact that you named your dog Katsudon out of spite for the hero standing next to you.

You changed his name up to make it less obvious, but if the dogs name isn’t enough of an evidence, he is a Pomeranian.

2 years ago there was a meme going around on social media about Dynamight looking like an angry Pomeranian. You really didn’t go to the shelter to actually adopt one, but here he was, the little, scruffy Katsudon, hating the world, barking at you like you personally insulted his birth mother.

You fell in love with him and named him after Kats… you mean, you named him after a Japanese dish. Yes.

You try to ignore the angry blonde next to you as you step into the apartment.

You love this place a lot. There are a lot of shelves on the walls, filled to the brim with your favorite books and comics, small clutters and memories from the past all over the place.

You’ve always been a collector, you love your little knick-knacks from all over the world, but thanks to Katsudon’s inquisitive nature you can’t put anything on the table or the kitchen counter. He might be small but you saw him jump on the counter like a bunny at least 10 times.

With that said, you absolutely love how much space you have in this flat for all your random things.

“You are not getting out of this, shithead” grumbles the blonde, giving your poor dog a piercing look. Katsudon doesn’t like to be stared at so he makes sure Katsuki knows where his place is. The dog might be small but he does indeed bite.

“I mean, you two are like two peas in a pod.” You can’t help but giggle as you look at their faces; both serious, brows scrunching, looking deeply into each other’s eyes with a frown on their faces. You quickly take a photo and send it to Kirishima. He’s going to love this shit.

“Oh, darling, this is it. I hope you are ready for your punishment.”

Katsuki wasn’t kidding. He attacked you in the most vicious way possible; with evil tickles.

When you were younger Bakugo did bully you a lot this way. He was aware of how much you hated it but he couldn’t help himself.

You try to scream and run away, but there is no escape from the wrath of Dynamight; in only 5 seconds, you end up on the sofa with Katsuki on top of you. After a few minutes of pure misery, he is finally satisfied with his work and let’s you take a breather. You can feel Katsuki’s breath on your lips as he pants, and for a second, the time just stops around you two.

It took a blonde another second to realize the position you guys got to as he was too busy staring at your lips for the last few seconds.

He is not the only one lost in the accidental embrace; your hand flies up without your knowledge to brush the hair out of his face.

After taking in some air, you can’t help yourself. It’s time to do the deed.

It’s time to make your best friend extremely embarrassed.

“You know when someone says they want to scream under you, this isn’t it, mate.” You wink at Katsuki and sneak out from under him in one swift move. You are a hero too, after all.

You can almost see the wheels turning in his head as his face gets redder and redder.

“I absolutely despise you right now.” He throws your own words back at you from earlier, his face hidden in his hands.

“Fuck, I love you too, let’s order some pizza!” You respond, not even trying to hide your snickering anymore. You didn’t even get to your first date yet but you already know there is nothing to stress about; you two click so perfectly, it’s almost painful.

Being with him in your apartment is so easy. It really feels like you never left his side and this is just… normal. You can see yourself doing this every day; order some pizza after a long day, snuggle up on the sofa, treat each other’s injuries when needed and use every single minute wisely as with your line of work, you never know when will be last time you come home.

After shaking your head to snap out of… whatever this was, you quickly start an order on your phone. When it’s done, you toss your phone to the blonde who’s awkwardly sitting on your sofa.

He grabs his wallet from his pocket to take out his credit card and finish the order. “I’ll pay” he says waiting for you to start arguing about it but you are too busy to stare at Katsuki’s wallet. There is an old Polaroid sticking out, and you don’t need to see the full picture to know what’s on it.

“That Polaroid… I lost that in third grade. They only took one picture of us that day.” You mumble while getting closer to the man to take a better look.

It’s a really cute picture of the two of you from training camp. There wasn’t enough seating for everyone at the campfire so you ended up in your best friend’s lap. His head was resting on your shoulder, half asleep, giving zero fucks about the picture being taken, while you tried to make a piece sign for the camera.

“… and I found it on the floor and kept it. I didn’t tell you about it, because I wanted to keep the picture but there was no way you would’ve let me take it from you.”

“You said you hated that picture, because we look all lovey-dovey on it.” You remind him, but the sad look on his face stops you from telling him off for lying to you.

“I said a lot of things I didn’t mean back then” Comes the answer.

You sit down next to him on the sofa with the picture in your hand.

“Why does it look so… crumpled?” You ask quietly, knowing the answer will probably break your heart. It might only be a piece of paper, but you can clearly see how much it has been through. It looks like it was crumpled a lot of times, there is some water damage on the edges as well. It looks so much worse than a few years old picture kept safely in a wallet should.

“I might have cried over it like a little bitch in a romantic movie a few times.” Says the blonde, spreading out on the sofa. “I looked at it a lot in the first few months. I hated to be so weak because of one fucking picture so I threw it away several times then I fished it out of the trash after a few hours. When I got older I used this picture to remind myself of my past mistakes.” Katsuki isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s just staring at the crumpled Polaroid, deep in his thoughts. He is so obviously in pain right now and you really want to tell him to stop talking but you are frozen. You can’t believe how wrong you were this whole time. You can’t believe you weren’t there for him when he was so clearly lost. He wasn’t completely alone of course, but you know this man well enough to know he never told anyone about his emotional struggles. “Every time I wanted to blow someone up I looked at this picture to remember how I lost you because of my anger issues. This picture helped me so many times.” He sighs and makes a move to put the little Polaroid away but you quickly take it out of his hand. “Oi!” He barks but you are already by your door with a sharpie in your hand. You quickly write a little message on the bottom of the Polaroid.

“It looks better now.” You give the poor picture back at last and Katsuki gives you the sweetest smile while pulling you into his lap. You sit down with your back resting on his chest and you can feel his head plopping down to your shoulders, just like on the picture.

“Thank you.” He murmurs into your ear and pulls you closer to him.

Little Katsudon doesn’t like the lack of attention so he jumps into your lap as well.

Katsuki gives him a little pat on his head and to your surprise, he didn’t try to bite this time. You both doze off for a bit on the comfy sofa, the pizza order long forgotten.

You guys end up eating some instant ramen as it got too late for a takeout. After a quick shower you are just about to put a comforter down for Kats when the blonde leaves the shower half naked and looks at you with an adorable grumpy face.

“So why can the fluffy Kats sleep in your bed but this Kats can not?” He points at himself. The absolute audacity of you for not letting this poor boy in your bed!

“The fluffy Kats earned his spot on my bed by being a loyal companion every single day. It’s a year worth of hard work, grumpy cat!” You laugh and give a little kiss to the blonde’s cheek before making your way to the bedroom. “Good night, Kats.” All you get as an answer is a moody grumble that suspiciously sounds like “good night, asshole”. After closing your bedroom door you jump on your bed and you scream into your pillow like a real, proper adult.

All of this is so unreal to you. The last time you left your flat you were depressed, hated everything and you couldn’t wait to come back to your place to sleep in your comfortable bed. Now here you are, few steps away from the love or your life, only an unlocked door separating the two of you in the middle of the night.

You try your best to sleep, but you can’t seem to find your peace for the night.

Just when you are about to fall asleep after an hour of constant tossing and turning, you suddenly feel Katsuki’s arm around you, pulling you impossibly close. His lovely scent of burnt caramel fills up your nose and you can’t help but turn around and snuggle up with the “intruder”.

“Don’t tell me what to do, you dipshit…” Grumbles the blonde, but he makes sure he’s not hugging you too tight in case you want to get out of his embrace and ask him to leave the room.

This is who Katsuki is: harsh words and soft touches. He might tell you that you have no other option than to obey him, but in reality, he would never force you to do a single thing you don’t want. You are not going to lie, the guy never gives up when he wants something and it did get on your nerves sometimes in the past but you never felt uncomfortable around him.

As you pull Katsuki closer and snuggle up to him, there is no need for words anymore; the tiny kiss on his shoulder, the way you make yourself comfortable in his arms and doze off without a single care in the world is more than enough for him to know he has earned his spot in your bed… and in your heart, forever.

To be continued…

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Thank you for the massive love on the first part of this story, I still can’t believe it!

You guys are amazing!

I would like to praise you guys more but I’m actually really sick, so the less I ramble, the better.

I hope you are ready for their first date in the next chapter! 💜

Random fun facts:

- Katsudon was inspired by an angry pomeranian who comes to my store sometimes. He’s literally Bakugo in a dog. I love him. He does not love me back.

- Pomeranians can NOT jump on kitchen tables.