#TWO YEARS ON MY BROWN RESUME WITH NO RESPONSE

[annievrse]

my diamond

duke!sukuna x spinster!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic w/c: 1k a/n: bridgerton!au!!!!! (everyone cheers)

"—the duke has arrived—"

"—i don't look half good enough for him tonight—"

"—i hear he's looking for a duchess!"—"

"—you must make haste, he won't be here for long—"

the ballroom erupts in a cacophony, but you stand against the wall with a glass of lemonade, rolling your eyes at the dramatics. being in your early twenties and already deemed a spinster by many mamas in the ton, you're grateful you're past your debutant years when men triple your age regard you with the same respect they'd give a stack of hay.

"finally found you," shoko stumbles into you, almost sloshing her drink onto your gown. you pay no mind to her, keeping your eyes trained on the crowd surrounding the entrance. "mr gojo wouldn't stop putting grapes into my glass. i was going to have to give him a facer if he didn't stop."

you tilt your head to look at her. "how's promenading with mr gojo?"

shoko rolls her eyes. "dreadful. all he speaks of is himself and his nightly activities at the gentleman's club."

you smile and shake your head, sipping your drink. the music cut off at the duke's arrival resumed, and couples began dancing again.

"—he looked at me—" a young woman gloats to her friend as they pass.

"ugh," you groan, glancing at shoko, who's trying to hide the empty dance card on her wrist. "i can't believe this," you mumble, face in a scowl.

"can't believe what?"

you turn to face her. "these girls tripping over themselves for a man! a man, shoko."

the brunette nods to whatever you're saying, though she pays no attention. "he's most likely more gentlemanly than mr gojo—"

"—he's most likely," you cut in. "an old, egotistic, unsightly rake who wants nothing more than a young lady to put his rotting, wrinkly—"

shoko stifles a sudden giggle before you, her hand covering her mouth.

"what?" you snap, gaze narrowed at your best friend.

shoko merely points behind you, her face slack at seeing something you cannot.

so, you turn. your line of sight is hindered by a navy coat, and as your eyes adjust, you realise it is, in fact, attached to a man. you peer at the ground as you lower to a curtsy. "my lord."

"good evening, miss."

shoko takes the cup from your hands before she leaves, sparing you no support. your eyes follow her retreating figure, your face hot and your hands shaking in embarrassment.

"i apologise greatly, my lord—" you finally tilt your head up, but the sight that welcomes you isn't one you'd expected.

the man is tall, taller than the other men of the ton. his skin is like porcelain, his eyes a deep shade of brown, and his cheeks are tinted a shade of pink, and, you squint slightly, so is his hair.

"i hope you do not mind the intrusion," the man says, snapping you out of your daze. "i was simply going to ask what could have gotten a young woman, such as yourself, so riled up?"

your mouth opens and closes like a fish, something your mama had taught you to never do in the presence of royalty or a man. the man chuckles at your stunned countenance but waits patiently until you collect yourself.

"i was simply describing the duke who had arrived just before, my lord," you say once you have composed yourself. "it is a known fact here that such men are of the sort."

"indeed," he mumbles, a hint of laughter in his response. "however, this duke is nothing of the sort."

your eyebrows raise and you nod along. "so, you've seen him then?"

"seen him? i know him personally."

you nod, smoothing out your skirts. "right."

"i can give you an introduction if you would like?"

you sigh. "i am terribly busy, you see," throwing your thumb over your shoulder. "spinster responsibilities."

the man's eyebrows jumped. "oh, so you're unmarried and unwilling to partake in such a thing?"

shaking your head, you scoff, earning a few glances from others around you. "two and twenty is barely old enough to be considered a spinster, my lord, but my mama insists it is appropriate, and who am i to be doubtful of her wisdom?"

"right," he mutters, the corner of his lips upturning at the sight of yours doing the same. "so, i shouldn't introduce a diamond, such as yourself, to the egotistic and unsightly duke?"

your cheeks burn with the humiliation of your previous words. "i accept the offer, but only because you are incredibly persuasive, my lord."

the man winks, but remains where he is stood. you clasp your hands before you, waiting for him to lead the way.

moments pass, and you notice debutants and mamas alike watching the pair of you stand in complete silence. you wonder what could be so exciting that the ton stands and stares at you—a topic of gossip that never seems to leave their minds.

growing increasingly uncomfortable, you peer up at the man.

"so, when is this introduction taking place?" you ask, voice meek.

"right now," he smiles, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. and with fear, you realise your mistake.

you curse under your breath and curtsy.

"stand up," the duke laughs, and you can't help but giggle nervously with him. "it took you long enough to realise."

now you know why the ton was staring at you so intently—it wasn't you they were staring at.

"excuse me for being so naive," you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead, trying to ignore how his gaze caresses your collarbone.

"never mind that," he waves his hand in dismissal. "so, what's the final verdict? my diamond?" he teases, stretching his arms out.

"uh—" you pause, taking your time running your eyes over every inch of him. "definitely not unsightly."

he nods once, his lips pulled into a devilish grin. "i'm pleased."

and then he leans down and takes your hand in his. his palm is larger than yours, and you notice his grip is firmer and more sure than any man who'd held your fingers before. the look he gives you through his lashes is one you'll never forget.

"duke of st. john," he says against your hand before pressing his lips delicately against the silk fabric of your gloves. "but you can call me ryomen."

[sluts4matt]

Hiiiii Ik you are not Latina but you write for latinas (which I’m so thankful for btw because I can’t find many Latina reader fics as a Latina) but I wanted to ask that if you are comfortable with it and you know anything about it if you could right a fic about Latina reader dating either Chris or Matt and her introducing them to stuff like pan dulce, tres leches cake, flan, Hispanic candy and big family parties just how they would react to all of it. Again this is only if you are comfortable with it I don’t want you to feel pressured to do it at all I just really love your work so I had to ask.🫶

TRADITION

pairing: matt sturniolo x mexican!reader

summary: family get togethers happened once every year, this year you were more than happy to bring your boyfriend to share your traditions with.

warnings: swearing, fluff, small argument between reader and their cousin, kinda suggestive in the beginning, i make a small joke about white people which could set a snowflake off so 🤷‍♀️.

word count: 2074

authors note: i can't tell if i like it or if i feel like i didn't do your request justice. i'd like to say that i've never had flan myself, but like everything else i mentioned i've eaten before. (twas not made by white people)

you and matt had been dating for basically a year now. and while obviously your parents, and close family knew matt, your tía’s and tíos did not. however, this month your tía cindy was hosting a family get together.

they typically happen one time each year, each family member hosting a year. last year, your parents hosted. "i think you should come with me to my family get together," you mutter to matt, running a hand through the boy's brown locks as he laid his face on your chest.

the two of you were currently cuddled up in your bed, the babadook playing on your tv. your phone was resting on your pillow next to your head, your phone going off because of the groupchat you were in with your cousins.

"that would be cool," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your chest. you could feel his eyes close against your skin, obviously meaning he was tired.

"i can introduce you to them as my boyfriend," you spoke quietly, almost as if you were trying not to scare him off, though a small smile was on your lips. though in reality you didn't know how you would. bro had seen you in all your naked glory, as well as seen you breakdown on many occasions.

there really was no scaring him away.

matt pulled his face from your chest, propping himself up on his elbows. the chain he wore dangling in front of your face as his blue eyes stared into your brown ones. "yeah?" he said, a teasing tone in his voice as he tilted his head.

you could feel your face heat up as you rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his face away. "don't tease me, asshat." you pout, looking away from the boy above you.

matt laughed, moving his face back down to press kisses to the top of your breast, before peppering kisses to the valley of your breasts and up to your neck. "i love you," he whispered, pecking your lips before pulling back, sitting back on his heels.

"so when is the gathering?" you snort at his response, "we're not witches matthew, this isn't a coven." you roll your eyes playfully. "mm, could be," he tilts his head.

"it's in a few weeks," you mutter, sitting up and grabbing your phone. you unlock your phone and click on the group chat, seeing what was going on. you rolled your eyes at the chaos that were your cousins.

"fun," he mumbles. "now lay back down," he states, pushing you back down. you look up at him and raise a brow. matt gives a small smile and grabs the blanket, resuming his previous position, pulling the blanket over your bodies.

he pressed small kisses to the spots his lips could reach on your boobs.

"you're such a horny bitch," you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. matt hums and shakes his head, "i am not, i'm just affectionate." he mutters, looking up at you.

"mm, whatever helps you sleep at night, babe." you tease. matt nips at your skin and shakes his head.

the two of you walked hand in hand into your tías house. the foyer was big, decorated with art, that quite frankly you couldn't exactly say where she had gotten the pieces from.

"dios mío, mira cuánto has crecido desde él año," cindy gushes, walking towards you. she incapsulates you in her arms, giving you a good squeeze. "tía, esté es matt," you introduce the confused looking boy. "i've heard so much about you matthew," your tía speaks, her mexican accent thick.

she pulls the boy in for a hug, "so glad you could join us this year." before you knew it, she was dragging him towards the snacks. there had been an assortment of candies, as well as salty snacks. next to it was a drink table, which held different types of liquor for the adults, as well as juices and jarritos for the kids.

you were greeted by other family members as you followed your stolen boyfriend through the people. "tell me matthew," you heard your tío marco say, making your eyes widen as you rush over.

"tío, hi, so happy to see you," you squeak, interrupting, knowing that your tio had a nick for scaring the people you dated away, either that or embarrassing you.

"i was just saying that your boyfriend looks like a real gentleman," he says, slinging an arm around the boys shoulders. "he threaten you?" you ask, looking at matt. this earns a scoff, "now, would a sweet, loving tio do something like that?" he tsks.

he looks over at matt, "tell me son, would i do something like that?" he says, squeezing matt's shoulders. the boys eyes widened slightly, "u-um, no, no sir," he says.

you give your tío a glare. he simply smiles and claps matt on the back, "excellent, glad we're on the same page. now, tell me about yourself." "i'm a youtuber-" matt starts, but gets cut off by your younger cousin who had just walked up the table. "a youtuber?" she squealed with excitement, "no wonder you're so pretty."

"back off kid, this ones mine," you mumble at the ten-year-old, wrapping your arm around matt's waist.

"okay, okay, no need to get territorial," your tía says, pushing her daughter away, "now, matt, let's get you a drink." "i don't drink, i'm sober," he says quietly. she winks at the boy, tapping her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "i like you, that was a test, you passed," she stated, grabbing a jarritos. "have a jarritos."

"and for my favorite sobrina," she stated, pouring tequila into two shot glasses. "don't tell your mom about this," she says, handing you one. you took it with a grateful smile, "cheers to you having a good guy by your side for once," she laughed at the last part. the two of you clinked your shot cups together, throwing them back.

the alcohol burned going down, causing you to make a face. "you okay?" matt asks, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. "woah," you shake your head. "mhm, fine," you hum, answering him.

everyone was seated at the table, the children sitting at the kids table. a bowl of pozole sat in front of everybody, as well as a big plate with some elote on it. "what it this?" matt whispers, ducking his head down to talk to you quietly.

"soup," you say, "tía sofia will you pass me a few limes," you ask. she nods her head, passing the small bowl over for you to grab a few. "look," you tell matt, "like this."

you squeeze the lime into the dish, "or you could just put it on top if you want," you shrug. you stir it around, adding some lettuce and onion to yours. "it's not authentic if you leave out the beats," you cousin miles whispers to matt. "literally shut up, like who asked you?" you mumble quietly, not looking to cause a scene over something as stupid as the way you like your pozole.

"here, let's try a little," you tell him, holding a spoon up to his mouth. he opens his mouth and lets you feed him. his eyes boring into yours as you do, he hums when his mouth closes around the utensil.

you pull the spoon away from his mouth and place it down, "how is it?" you ask, grabbing a piece of elote. "elote will never not be good," you state, "pass me the tajin miles."

the black-haired boy complies, sliding the bottle over to you, the plastic clanging with your glass. "thank you." you open the container and sprinkle the seasoning over the cob.

"isn't that a bit much?" matt says, tilting his head. "white people," you mutter, shaking your head as you take a bite of the corn. "no, it's never a bit much," you say, licking the tajin from your fingers.

you look up and see the eyes of your cousin miles staring at you, "what?" you say, glaring at the boy. "you're mean to him, wonder how you've kept him so long." he was obviously trying to get under your skin, it was what miles did. it was like he lived to be able to piss you off whenever he saw you.

"oh yeah, you're the fucking expert in relationships," you say, rolling your eyes. "because you haven't been able to keep somebody for more then five months," you add, looking back down to the table.

"i'm not the one who cheated on her last boyfriend," he says, crossing his arms. "miles," your aunt warns, "not here." "literally a bullshit lie and you know it," you state, getting up, walking inside to the bathroom.

matt quickly followed, leaving behind a table of people that were shocked. he walked in, closing the door behind him, and locked it.

you stood at the sink, gripping the edge as tears filled your eyes. his arms were wrapped around you, "it's not true," you mumble shakily, "i-i didn't," you hiccup. matt shushed you, pulling you closer to him.

"i don't really care if you did," he shrugs, though he knows there would have been a tad bit of fear that it could happen to him. "you didn't," he says, "but even if you did, i don't care. because you're mine, and i love you." he turns you around, cupping your cheeks.

"let's get you cleaned up," he says, using his sleeve to wipe the tears off of your face. you lean into his touch, and nod. "is it normally like this?" he asks, pressing kisses into your hair.

"miles will do or say whatever it takes to get under my skin," you mumble, "he's an immature little boy who doesn't care who's relationships he hurts," you scoff.

matt hums, and holds you close.

"i don't deserve you," you mumble, shaking your head, "i'm a mess." "then i will gladly be a mess with you so we can do it together," he mutters. "let's go back," he says, and unlocks the door.

as soon as he did, your cousin was standing there. "tía wants me to apoligiz-" "save it," you cut him off, holding a hand to his face. you and matt walk back to the table; pan dulce, flan, and tres leches cake gathered in the center of the table.

"here," your tía hands matt a piece of pan dulce. "thanks," he says, smiling at the older woman. he took the sweetened bread from her hands, tearing it in half before handing you one side. he takes a small bite, melting into his chair. "good?" you giggle, glad that most of the family was having their own conversations.

"magical," he hums, "then taste, tres leches," you state, grabbing a small plate with a slice. "tres leches is the only birthday cake i allow," you say, a smile on your face as his eyes light up. "why does this taste better then actual cake?" "because it is," you and your tía selena state at the same time.

matt nods his head and eats his dessert, looking around at all the people. his blue eyes landing on a picture that was hung on the wall. it was a photo of your abuela, the woman who raised your mom. you followed his eyes, "she was an amazing woman," you state, nodding your head.

“she would have loved you if she had the chance to meet you,” you mumble, resting your chin on the palm of your hand.

he looks over at you and smiles, grabbing a piece of flan. he puts the spoon in his mouth and hums, looking at you with wide eyes. "what is this? how did i never know this existed?" "because you never dated a bad ass latina bitch before me," you giggle.

"that's a good point," he shrugs. "and yes, flan is the shit," you laugh, "i love me some caramelized milk." matt's brows furrowed, "milk?" you hum, "milk, sugar, and eggs," you nod.

matt nodded his head and looked back at the dessert. he scooped some more and ate it. by the end of the night, mostly everyone was telling matt what a great guy he was, telling him they'd hope to see him at my cousin delorese quinceañera.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolhoe @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chriss @l5ka @sturnlovr @blahbel668 @sturncakez @livvy4realll @raysmayhem-72 @jnkvivi

[tetsuswaifu]

Hey!!

Can you please write a one shot about husband!dad!kuroo with twin boys and pregnant!wife!reader.

Have a great day/night~

Game Night with the Family

word count: 781

a/n: omg heyyy ! we all know kuroo would be the ultimate dad, i picture him being so active in the kids lives and driving the minivan to games or whatever else the kids are into, like fully involved in the role and loving every second of it, and him being the sweetest husband to you as well. when your pregnant hes even more "please let me get it for you princess" typa shit, he meets every good expectation imo. thanks again for the request and i hope you also have a great day/night love ! 🫶🏼

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

The cozy living room was filled with the sound of cheerful chatter and the clatter of game pieces. It was family night, and the boys had decided that board games would be the activity. Ren and Leo, your six-year-old twin boys, were seated on the carpet, eagerly setting up the board game. Kuroo Tetsurō, ever the doting father, was busy organizing the game cards next to you on the couch, while you, his radiant pregnant wife, watched with a loving smile on your face.

"Daddy, are we going to play now?" Ren asked, his brown eyes wide with anticipation.

"Yeah, we're ready!" Leo added, bouncing with excitement.

Kuroo grinned at your boys, ruffling each of their hair. "Almost, guys. Just let me shuffle these cards, and we'll get started."

You chuckled, resting a hand on your belly. "You two are so excited. I wonder who's going to win?"

They both raised their arms and exclaimed, "I'm gonna win!" in unison. You and Kuroo both softly laughed at their eagerness.

Kuroo finished shuffling the cards and handed each boy a stack. "Alright, let's see who's the master of this game."

The boys scooted closer to the coffee table, ready to beat each other at the game. Kuroo's hand naturally found your thigh, giving it a few gentle squeezes. "How are you feeling, love?" he asked, his voice softening. His hazel eyes met yours, always full of endearment when he looked at you.

"Good," you replied, leaning in to give him a short kiss. "The baby's been active today."

Kuroo's eyes sparkled with affection. "Our little one's going to be a bundle of energy, just like their brothers."

As they started the game, the room filled with laughter and playful banter. Ren and Leo were fiercely competitive, but Kuroo and you always made sure to keep the atmosphere light and fun. Whenever it was the boys' turn, your husband would sneak a kiss on your cheek, making you giggle in response. He was so affectionate towards you, always making you feel loved and appreciated.

"You're distracting me," you teased, playfully leaning into him.

"Can't help it," he replied with a mischievous grin. "You're just too cute, my love."

Ren and Leo both said, "Ewwww!" in response but continued focusing on the game. They equally wanted to outdo their parents.

After a few rounds, you excused yourself to get some snacks from the kitchen. Kuroo followed you, wrapping his arms around you as you reached for the chips.

“Need any help, sexy?” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You laughed, leaning back into him. “I think I can manage, but I do appreciate the offer,” you said, turning around to peck him on the lips.

Your husband couldn’t resist giving you a playful smack on the butt. “Just making sure you know how irresistible you are.”

“Tetsu!” you scolded lightly, barely holding in your smile. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he winked at you, turning you around to kiss you properly. "I'm just so lucky to have you."

You both returned to the living room with snacks in hand, and the boys cheered at the sight of treats. The game resumed as you all began munching on the various snacks, the atmosphere filled with warmth and joy.

As the game night drew to a close, Ren and Leo were declared the winners, much to their delight. They celebrated by jumping up and down, high-fiving each other, then you and Tetsu.

"Good job, guys," Kuroo said, lifting each boy for a hug. "You beat us fair and square."

"We're the best!" Leo proclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

You laughed, ruffling his hair. "You boys did great. Now, how about we wind down with a story before bed?"

Ren and Leo nodded eagerly, and the family moved to the couch. Kuroo picked out a storybook, settling between his sons while you leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder. As he read, his deep voice brought the characters to life, mesmerizing the twins.

The boys fell asleep quickly, resulting in the story being cut short. Kuroo carried them to their room, tucking them in with gentle kisses to their foreheads.

"Goodnight, Ren. Goodnight, Leo," he whispered. "Sweet dreams."

Returning to the living room, Kuroo found you waiting for him, your eyes filled with love. He sat beside you, pulling you into his arms.

"Tonight was perfect," you said softly, looking into his eyes.

"Every night with you is perfect," he replied, kissing you tenderly. "I can't wait for the baby to be part of this."

You embraced him in response, your family's future shining bright with endless possibilities.

[itsjusbleh]

sam zablowski x reader oneshot

a/n: GRRSRRSARTA sam is so under appreciated and his actor is just… ughhhhh anyways the time is set when reader and sam are juniors in highschool.

It was first day for eleventh grade and Sam felt muggy. He attempted to walk into school with one bag strap off his shoulder but ended up aggressively putting it on his shoulder because it was just too damn uncomfortable and awkward. Walking alongside Gabe and almost tripping on the stairs to the entrance, his mind was in a tired blur. Summer break went way too fast and he felt like he just couldn’t keep up.

Barging past people, he hooked a hand around Gabe’s shoulder to avoid losing him in the ocean of teenagers.

“Ouch, my nipple,” Gabe seethed after getting barged by a random passing through. Sam suppressed a laugh from spilling out as he grinned at him.

Losing the traffic finally, they reached Sam’s locker and Sam tossed his bag onto the floor with an exaggerated groan. Gabe resumed his gamblings as he leaned against the other lockers. Sam turned his head to see Anna and Maya chatting away, smiles cheesy and wide. His stomach churned a little. Things were always a bit weird with Maya after they had stopped going out a year ago.

“Back onto my theory that Darth Vader was actually dead all along. When Vader says to…” Gabe’s words went through deaf ears as he watched the two girls break into a funny dance splitting apart slightly and revealing another girl in the middle of them doing the same thing.

His chest tightened and his heart did a little spin. With a dry mouth, he muttered, “Who’s that?”

“Huh?” Gabe says, following Sam’s eyesight. “I dunno.”

She was really pretty. He’d never seen her before, ever. Her smile was capturing and her style was dope. He sucks in a tight breath.

“She must be pretty weird if she’s talking with Maya and Anna,” Gabe adds with a scoff.

“Yeah,” Sam looks away, pushing down his thoughts with a forced laugh.

*

Moving schools was hard for you. Like any other person, it’s different and new, something that humans don’t like at most times. You parked at your locker with awkward insecurity and were lucky enough to have a blond girl named Anna’s locker next to you, with her friend Maya talking to her.

After exchanging names, Maya tilted her head at you. “You’re new, right, because.. I’ve never seen you around, right, Anna?” She looks to the blonde, to which she nods in response, shifting a piece of hair from her face.

“Yeah, no, I haven’t seen you around…”

“I just moved. I used to live two hours away,” you say, looking down at Maya’s blue shirt and seeing Bratz printed on it. “You like Bratz?”

“Yeah,” she drags out, smiling as she exchanges excited looks with Anna. “The intro song is like, so catchy cause it goes like…”

Both her and Anna start moving their bodies in a little dance, going, “Ooooh, Bratz.”

You giggle, mumbling the song too and moving your shoulders like a wave. You all burst into laughter, backs hunching over. First friends, maybe you aren’t gonna do so bad.

Your first class was history, and you piled yourself into a chair blindly, a bit anxious to start your first lesson at your new school. About forty minutes into the class, your pencil’s led had gone flat. Rummaging through your pencil case, you frown to see no sharpener in there. You bite your lip, turning your head to see a brunette boy.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, and his eyes flicker to you. Gosh, they were such an intense colour of brown, it actually took you aback. “Um, do you have a sharpener I could borrow. Please?”

He stares at you for a second, but he snaps out of it, muttering, “Yeah, let me just.. grab it for you.”

When he hands the sharpener to you, your fingers graze and while your sharpen your pencil, you can feel his eyes at your shoes.

“I like your shoes.”

Looking down at your converses, you smile. “Thanks, my mum got them for me last Christmas.”

When you look up, he’s staring at you again. His head turns away really quick and he looks to something, squinting his eyes a little.

Looking back at your book, your nose crinkles. He’s a bit weird.

“I’m Sam, by the way.”

You look at him again to see he’s not even looking at you but at the board. You say your name as well, turning your attention to the teacher. For the rest of the lesson, you strangely had a fluttery feeling inside of you.

A few weeks later, you’re settling in more than you thought you’d be. Anna and Maya were really good friends to you, and you were understanding your classes pretty well.

On a Friday, you had history last, and you were paired up with Sam for your assignment. There was a specific sort of tension between the two of you. Not awkward, just.. odd. Odd tension.

“So my house?” Sam asks while the class packs up, flipping his book in his hands.

“What was that?”

“Do you wanna come to my house. For the assignment, I mean. We’ll get some done this afternoon, maybe. If you want to,” he explains.

The bell rings. “Um, sure. I’ll just go quickly ask my mum,” you reply with a smile.

“Cool,” Sam points a finger gun at you, but he retracts it within an instant. “Fuck, that was so bad.”

You break out into a laugh, walking out the classroom doors with him. “I just cringed, like, so bad.”

When you got to his house, you knocked at the door and his mom opened it. She was really nice and your nerves eased at the homely welcome. She led you up to Sam’s room, and that’s when the nerves came rolling back in.

“Now, I’m leaving the door open,” his mum scolds in a joking manner, and your skin burns with the embarrassment of the implication behind it.

“Mom, oh my god—“ Sam yelps, slapping a hand to his forehead in stress. She leaves with a few giggles, and he looks to you with a sympathy felt expression. “Sorry about that, she’s so…”

“No, no, it’s okay. She’s nice,” you wave your hands. Your eyes skim around his room, head turning. “Your room’s cool.”

“Thanks,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair a little. His legs spread out slightly, and the motion makes you look somewhere else. “So,” he pats his thighs. “The assignment. You can come sit on my bed if you want.”

You have to fight the butterflies spawning immediately in your stomach. You were so pathetic that sitting on Sam’s bed was excruciatingly extreme for you. You awkwardly sit on his bed near him, flipping open the assignment sheets and taking out a pencil from your case.

About thirty minutes pass by of work when Sam gets up from the chair and stretches, groaning a bit. He moves to sit on the bed as well, even more closer to you as he leans up against the headboard with his legs in a pretzel.

It’s probably been a hour and a half and you’re tired. You keep on yawning and your eyes itch every two seconds. Your concentration disappears by the minute and you’re ready to head home for dinner and bed. Wanting to finish the last paragraph on the page, you turn to Sam. “Hey, how should we word the last sentence?”

He licks at his lips as he leans over to you and your sheet, looming over your shoulder. “Um…” As he thinks, you feel his breath fanning at your skin, making goosebumps arise. He smells of clean laundry and grass, stirring the mushy gather of butterflies in your belly. “Link it back up to the first sentence, so be like… yada-yada proves this accusation to be false due to what’s-his-name’s quote stated above.”

The air is still and it’s all quiet for what feels like for an eternity as he looks to your face. “Yeah, okay,” you quip, writing just what he had said.

What you don’t expect is for him to still be there once you’re done writing and you audibly suck in a breath when you turn to see him so close. He blinks a few times, and you catch the way his eyes drop a split second to your lips. Your heart begins to speed up, the tension now clear to you.

His head moves and he captures your lips in a kiss. You accept it as you let go of your breath, nimbly placing a hand on his knee to stabilise yourself. Breaking apart for a second, he kisses you again, this time with a tad more energy.

His hand comes up to hold your neck, as his tongue prods at the slit of your lips. You allow access to him, shyly allowing his tongue to slide along yours as his head tilts at an angle. You turn yourself more to him, and his other hand moves to grip at your hip, thumb drawing circles on your jeans.

You can feel your insides melt to a goop, can feel the tiny pulse beginning in the middle of your thighs. His lips are feathery and his mouth is warm, and you can feel your heartbeat now pounding against your ribcage.

You’re the one to let go, as your lungs feel like they’re going to burst. Or maybe it’s your heart, you don’t know.

There are his gorgeous brown eyes, staring so deep into you. “Sorry,” he mutters with a few puffs of ragged breath, and you could just melt right there.

“Why are you sorry?” You whisper back, unable to keep the unevenness of your breath at bay as well. He looks down for just a moment before he looks back up at you.

His shoulder lightly shrugs, “I dunno.”

You can’t help the way your lips swirl into a tiny grin, cheeks at a temperature of a burning oven. “You shouldn’t be.”

His eyes run around the map of your face, awe shun clear in them. “Then I’m not,” he states softly, smoothing his hand around your neck to support the back of it. He lets his fingers skim through your hair as he pulls you in for another kiss.

[levisolace]

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[noxxha]

Chiyo and Sasori - She neglected him out of guilt and fear

Sasori is a character who was introduced early in the first part of Naruto Shippuden. His parents were killed by Hatake Sakumo when he was young, and he was consequently under the care of Chiyo (and her brother - and his granduncle - Ebisu, most likely…yet their relationship is not shown on-screen), his grandmother.

Chiyo, however, does a grave mistake when it comes to Sasori’s parents. She learns of the fact that they were killed, and…

She keeps this information from Sasori, believing him to be “too young” to know about their death. On one hand it is considerate of her to do so, on the other hand she put herself in a very uncomfortable situation emotionally.

Not only because she had to lie to him every time he asked about his parents (and I can imagine that he asked ever so often), but because she probably had no true idea what to do the moment Sasori might/would figure out the truth.

Instead of telling him the truth she tells him that they are away on a mission (or that they were given a new mission, as stated in ep. 27) and that they will eventually return. Even worse, the one scene we get to see Chiyo says “well, they’ll be gone a little bit longer…”

They will be gone a little bit longer.

The lie itself is a terrible thing, but to phrase it the way she did - a little bit - makes it taste even more bitter.

That is giving Sasori a hope that does not exist.

She keeps him waiting, and Sasori obediently does just that. Growing up very lonely - and impatient (not liking to keep other people waiting, nor liking to be kept waiting) - as a consequence.

Look at him - he’s so sad…

While Chiyo did her best to be there for Sasori, her constant lies were actually cruel.

What is the greatest insult to Sasori, however, is the fact that Chiyo treats him as if he is stupid. He might be a child - and of course it would have hurt him to know that his parents were dead - but he is not stupid. Far from it.

He was hailed a prodigy in the art of puppetry, after all.

And…

He created puppets in the likeness of his parents to not feel so lonely. And yet they could do nothing to ease the emptiness within him. They could not replace his longing for his real parents.

“Sasori had already figured out, that his parents were dead.”

Chiyo actually hurt Sasori more with her lies than if she had just told him the truth from the beginning. We do not know for how long the lie lasted either, but she probably lied to him for 1 to 2 years at best…and quite a few years at worst.

Chiyo was put in a very painful position, but her way of handling it was certainly not the best. Not only was she grieving the loss of her son and daughter-in-law, but Sasori was a constant reminder of her loss. Not only was he the child of her son, he looked just like him (but with his mother’s brown eyes).

But what she ends up remembering the most is the sorrowful - empty - gaze upon which he gazes at the puppets.

Ep. 319 (filler - I am aware of such and yet I, for one, appreciate some of the fillers that the anime team gave us - this is one of my absolute favourites) expands on Sasori’s past. After the above scene we are shown how Sasori works on his puppets. The peace and quiet is being interrupted by Komushi - a young boy who is shown to treat Sasori like a friend. Komushi asks Sasori about the puppets requested by Chiyo (The Crow, Black Ant and Salamander), and this implies at first that his role is more than being just Sasori’s friend - he acts as a messenger between the two of them. This is later plainly stated by Chiyo herself.

“Oh well, I might as well wait until hell freezes over to get a response from you.”

One thing that is of interest is the fact that Sasori ignored Komushi for a long while. Only when Komushi mentioned that he “has a message from Granny Chiyo” did Sasori stop his tinkering and listen. The message in question was about the above mentioned puppets, and that they were needed quicker. Sasori only points towards said creations, resuming his tinkering near immediately thereafter, while also mentioning that he “does not like keeping people waiting”.

That Komushi acts as a messenger indicates that the relationship between them is strained. Extremely so even. But does it come as a surprise?

Not really.

Chiyo could have asked about Sasori’s invention herself, no? He is her grandson after all. But that she did not.

And the proof just how strained their relationship is follows the above mentioned scene. Komushi mentions that Chiyo wonders about the poison for the Crow puppet, and Sasori hands him a sheet of paper with the formula for the toxin he intends to make. The toxin in question must be approved, however, by his superior - who is Chiyo herself.

Komushi tells Sasori that he will negotiate with Chiyo about the toxin - and to give him “some time”. Sasori turns away from his friend and immediately tells him that he does not want to wait. Komushi grins - tells him “then let’s go!” - before rushing off. Sasori merely watches him in silence - looking mildly dumbfounded at his friend’s suggestion.

Now, while Komushi urged both of them to go - Sasori could have remained in his workshop and let his friend handle something that Sasori himself could have done…and yet…

This particular scene showcases just how little Chiyo understands her grandson. And it also showcases how she pushes him away - intentionally even.

This scene was a bit tricky to capture in a still frame. At first Chiyo only sees Komushi and so she asks him if he has “relayed her message” - and then Sasori appears. She becomes quiet, looks a tad surprised - apprehensive even - at the sight of her grandson. This indicates that he probably spent most (if not all) his time in the workshop and seldom showed himself. And that him being here now was quite the exception.

One could say that Komushi had a knack for persuading people to do his bidding, but considering Sasori being the way he is…he had probably another reason to appear before his grandmother.

Chiyo reads through the formula, and mentions that “there is not much I can say without knowing the blending ratio of the mixture”.

It is here that Chiyo makes another grave mistake.

Having read through the formula she looks at Sasori - remembering his empty gaze that gazed upon his father and mother puppets - before approving the request without asking for specifics. She could have asked about the mentioned blending ratio - Sasori stood right there in front of her - but she spoke as if that was not the case.

Sasori is shown to be a very tacit individual - he barely speaks and would probably be lost in his own world (creating puppets) if not for Komushi. When it comes to the toxin, Sasori went there personally (with some slight urging from his friend) but nevertheless…he followed him. The relationship between Sasori and Chiyo is shown to be terribly strained, even cold, so why would Sasori go to the person that lied to him for (presumably) years?

Because she was the only family he had left at that point. And he cared about her, deep down. He mentioned in ep. 27 that he would not care if Chiyo would die…and that alone indicates that there was a part of him that still cared about her. If he truly did not care about Chiyo’s fate, he would not have wasted breath mentioning it. He would have just gone ahead and killed her like he was capable in doing.

It is while Chiyo is healing Sakura that we get the clearest indicator that Sasori cared about Chiyo despite everything that had happened since he left the village 20 years prior to their reunion.

“It’s a jutsu I spent originally years creating for you…one that only I can use. With this jutsu life can even be breathed into puppets…In exchange for the life of the caster, that is…But in hindsight, it’s a dream that won’t be realized…”

Sasori, hearing these words, is visibly shaken. And there is a symbolic tear in the form of blood falling from the corner of his mouth.

While he probably resented Chiyo for lying to him - a part of me thinks that he could forgive her for that - as he sought her out (as shown in ep. 319) in an attempt to get an interaction between them, after all.

Him going to see his grandmother was Sasori’s subtle way of trying to mend a relationship that (not yet) was beyond repair.

But Chiyo - by approving the toxin immediately- denied Sasori the interaction he could not state plainly because he was extremely stunted emotionally and socially. He probably wanted her to ask him questions, show interest in him and his inventions (she was a toxin specialist when young and she was the one who taught him the art of puppetry in the first place) - but instead of threading on the path of reconciliation, she pushed him away. Intentionally.

Once the toxin was approved Chiyo near immediately dismisses the pair because she is “in the middle of research” but whether entirely true or not is hard to say. She was seen reading a document before Komushi (and Sasori) disturbed her, that’s true, but is it “reading” or “research”? Both most likely. It does not change the fact that she asked them to leave, though.

While Sasori hoped that Chiyo would understand the unspoken in him appearing before her, she misread the situation entirely.

Or…on one hand she did, but on the other hand she probably thought that she would make Sasori’s life easier if she just agreed to his request - she had denied him the most important “request” of all, after all (an answer/the truth). Agreeing to his request was partly done out of guilt I can imagine - so to ease her own consciousness. And part of her - as much as she tried to not show it - was terrified of that empty, haunted look in her grandson’s eyes.

Because she knew that she shouldered most of the blame for Sasori being lonely, for him feeling empty and trying to fill the void within him with his puppets.

She tried to cheer him up, but completely neglected the fact that Sasori needed human contact rather than only his puppets. He needed her.

This scene follows immediately after the above mentioned scene. He looks so sad, disappointed even that he did not get the result he had hoped for.

It had to hurt having Komushi mention that Chiyo had to be “so proud of you” and that she was “always worried about you” - because from Sasori’s side he probably felt that the complete opposite was the case, as Chiyo did not talk to him. They did not speak with one another (if it was not absolutely necessary), she did not praise him (at least not in person)…he must have felt like an orphan despite having family left.

Did they live together? That is not made clear. If they did I can imagine that they both (perhaps Chiyo more than Sasori) went out of their way to avoid one another.

Chiyo approving the toxin - without questioning Sasori about details - would end up having severe consequences the moment Komushi was wounded during his guard duty - losing part of his arm.

He was given a puppet arm by Sasori. It was shown to be quite the invention, with a blade and the ability to release the very toxin Chiyo approved without much hassle.

She is terrified of her own grandson. Of his empty gaze and his mind that was creating puppets terrifyingly close to real humans.

Now, whether Sasori wanted to murder Komushi intentionally or not, is up for interpretation. If we take Chiyo’s words at face value she is convinced that Sasori tried to get his only friend killed intentionally - that it was not just a “coincidence”. I personally do not believe that Sasori wanted Komushi dead, it was all just a terrible accident.

Komushi - knowing that blame would fall onto Sasori - mentioned that he “is not to blame”. That it was he (Komushi) who ingested the poison by accident.

But whether it was murder or not - Komushi dies under Chiyo’s care, as she does not know the blending ratio of the poison Sasori created, and therefore there is no antidote at the ready. What is even more chilling is the fact that Chiyo mentioned that she would clear it with the “Pharmaceuticals Division” and when Komushi is dying she asks about Sasori and if “we have the blending ratio for the poison yet”, this implies that either she did not speak with the division about the poison (perhaps because the toxin was too complex to find an antidote for?), or she did and Sasori later tweaked the ingredients.

One scene that can be used as an argument for Sasori wanting Komushi dead, is when the latter visits him and mentions that the puppet hand Sasori has created looks “real”. Sasori looks at Komushi’s hand (who moves his fingers to mimic the movement that Sasori made the puppet hand do). To me it looks more as if Sasori is contemplating how to make his puppets more “humanlike”, and it is here (most likely) that he began to contemplate the use of real humans and if it was possible to make them into puppets. But he was probably more inclined to do the opposite still: make puppets into humans so to say.

I honestly believe that Sasori at first had good intentions with him creating puppet parts that were more like human anatomy - but his pure desire morphed steadily into the worldview over which he and Deidara would fight over. Him making more real puppet protheses was very likely the first step into eventually deciding to make himself into a puppet. It was there it began in my opinion - his obsession with preserving “life” and “beauty”.

“Heal him! Please! You attached his right arm, too? Then his left arm can be…His legs, his body…You can even heal his soul, can’t you?! Give him back to me! Heal my Komushi and give him back to me!”

Komushi passes on and with him dies Chiyo’s link to Sasori. She contemplates the situation, before rushing to Sasori’s workshop when remembering how Komushi told her about Sasori creating human parts that looked like “real human hands”.

She finds him there…and she also finds that Sasori has made Komushi into a puppet - like it was “requested” of him by Komushi’s mother.

He has - in a way - restored his soul. Like he was “asked” to do.

The beginning of the Sasori that we got to know in Naruto Shippuden all the way back in Ep. 21 when his real face was finally revealed.

Chiyo admits by the end of the episode that she, indeed, pushed him away. That she made excuses to not be there for him when he needed her the most.

While all he wanted was to be embraced by his parents once more, I think even an embrace from her - back then - would have done so much to keep him on the “healthy” path.

But Chiyo didn’t. And she realized her many mistakes only when it was too late to truly say how much she regretted her treatment of her only grandson.

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

For Talenna & Lace Harding >:) ❛ i hope this raven finds you well... ❜

Lol I guess its just a Lace and Tal week XDDDDDDDDDD Have another pre-Veilguard Rook!Talenna drabble because I have brain rot and am WAYYYYYYYY too excited LOL Again very light spoilers for what to expect next game but nothing too deep.

For @dadrunkwriting - Veilguard Spoilers

Rated G: Slice of Life, Vaguely Heist??? Ish??? 587 words

Wolf Hunt | By Exalted_Dawn

Ink black talons carved angry streaks from her skin, gripping tightly as the raven’s wings snapped fast through the air in a fight for balance. Talenna grit her teeth and bore it, though. Her curiosity was a powerful balm against any pain, but the sudden appearance of the red-backed beast bearing a scroll of parchment on one foot made for plenty of it. 

The leather cord came apart with two deft tugs, allowing the small roll to fall freely into hand. Scrawling script stretched across the outside in a long-forgotten but familiar hand, addressed to her.

‘Talenna, I hope this raven finds you well-’

Eldhru looked up from his practice, eyes darting between her and the bird with no small amount of blatant interest. The lightning in his palm began to jump and dance erratically, but he hardly seemed to pay it any mind.  “Is it the dwarf again?” 

Talenna snorted, turning further away from his prying eyes. “Not the one you’re thinking of. And not any of your business, besides. Now keep focus on your spell, else you’ll burn yourself. Again.” 

“You know you aren’t my teacher anymore…”

“Aye. If I was, you would not still be stuck on this. Now-” Smirking, she gestured back to the spell in his hand– a response that earned her a huff of indignance but ultimately achieved her goal. Eldhru dropped his roving eyes back to his hands, and Talenna was able to resume her reading in peace.

‘Talenna, I hope this raven finds you well-’ *** “‘Provided that this letter managed to arrive safely, I am sure you must be wondering why I am writing you after so long a time. There has been a development in the wolf hunt, and our patron suddenly finds herself in need of an expert on wolves and their pack dynamics, and when asked, the rook keeper could think of no better person to ask than you. The rest of the hunting party will be gathering at the address below– If you are interested, send the raven back with a sign that it reached you, and we will be sure to save you a seat.

“‘Your friend, Lace’”

Talenna tossed the rolled sheet of paper onto the beer-stained table, an exasperated sigh on her lips as she collapsed into the chair across from the Inquisition’s head scout. “I hope you know that Tevinter is a very long way for me to go for a wolf hunt. This better be worth my time.” 

The freckled dwarf offered an apologetic smile, but Talenna was more happy to accept the full pint pushed her way a moment later, even as a bit spilled over onto her hand and added to the stains below. 

“Trust me, you’ll want to stick around for this one.” Next, she slid a piece of parchment between them. Drawn in charcoal across its face was a single, sleek dagger. 

Talenna hummed lowly, dragging it closer. “A wolf’s tooth, then?” 

“It’s sharpest fang,” Harding corrected, her brown eyes flashing gold in the hearth’s firelight. The emphasis of her words did not go unnoticed. So then, it was finally time.

Talenna’s reflection stared back at her from her mug as she mulled over the choices put before her. It had been eight years, after all. Was that worth uprooting for the sake of one last wolf hunt? All the others had proved fruitless, but if this was the one that counted…

She blew out a breath and raised her gaze. “You mentioned a hunting party?”

[mysterioushistorian]

A Perfect Life

A Homestuck fanfic about my GamTav old men AU. A lot of fluff!! Enjoy ^-^

—

It feels like forever ago.

But it has just been a year. A year since you walked in that hall in a white dress, flower bouquet in hands, petals being gently thrown over you and your lover standing there, wearing a nice tie and a purple ribbon wrapped nicely on his badass left bull horn, waiting for you. It was a simple wedding, only your friends were invited, yet that was a meaningful moment, one of the best days of your entire life.

The presents were wonderful. Despite many of your so called "friends" still being in odd terms with you, they still agreed to come to this special day, even if most of them came for Tavros only. Aradia gave you a brown mug with your purple sign on it. The inside of the mug had a small text in purple saying "happy wedding 0u0". Tavros seemed to get a similar mug, his being purple with his bronze sign stamped on it. Aradia is so sweet, you’re glad to be on good terms with her. She makes your Tavros happy. She’s almost like a human sister to him.

And just like Arasis, Fefsis is also good with you. In fact, you dare to say that her present was the best of all. She all up and used her miraculous life powers and extended your Tavbro’s lifespan to equal yours, so you don’t ever have to worry about outliving your love. You were in tears, and tackled her in a tight hug, thanking her all the way for that glorious, impeccable gift.

You were responsible for baking the wedding cake, and you are really happy to see how much people liked it. You very rarely eat sopor now, you finally got over it after many years and much support from Tavros. Since Subjuggulator profession is gone now, there’s no need for sopor slime in this planet, but many trolls — including you and your bronze husband — stick to it, as they’re used to it.

When you and your newlywed husband got home that night, you both fell on the couch and cuddled until you fell asleep, content with the life you’re living.

—

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a slight tug at your mess of a hair. You zoned out in the bath, again, remembering how it’s been a year since you and your husband got married. Speaking of him, he’s taking a bath with you, washing your hair that has been growing quite a lot lately, and despite how messy it is, you both like it. So you keep it, even if it’s awful to take care of it.

Tavros tried to be as gentle as possible. The feel of his big, rough but sweet hands scraping gently against your scalp feels very good, you love when he takes care of you. You gladly return the favor, by cooking his faves for him, and massaging him whenever he has back pains, or if he’s stressed you curl up with him on the couch and puts Pupa Pan for him to watch.

“You okay over there?” He asked, regarding the amount of knots in your curls. He has grown so comfortable around you, he rarely ever stutters with you nearby anymore. You feel so happy for him.

“Yeah man, ’m good.” You waved him off and allowed him to resume washing your hair. When he finishes, you turn around to hug him and rest your chin atop his head, your growing goat beard slightly tickling the shaved area of his scalp. He gladly returns his gesture, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around your skinny, but not weak body. You let out a sigh of contention. You enjoyed peaceful moments like this, just the two of you enjoying the silence and each other’s company.

He lightly flutters his wings — pupated wings, a true miracle in your honest opinion — and playfully splashed you with water. Despite you two being grown up adults, your goofyness and sillyness from childhood are still there. You laugh and splash him a bit too, engaging in a small war of who can splash the other more.

You left the bathtub laughing and giving each other light kisses on the face. You put on a royal purple robe while Tavros wrapped himself in a black towel with polkadots, and went to your room.

You headed to the kitchen to make dinner while he chose a book to read — you love it when he reads it out loud for you. While cooking, you caught yourself thinking about something that has been on your mind for a while now. Despite loving this simple life you have, just the two of you, it’s still lonely for part of the day. Tavros works, while you stay at home to do the domestic chores.

Your Tavros got a job as what humans call a veterinary, meaning that he takes care of sick lusii and beasts. He just doesn’t like seeing the poor creatures suffering and wants to do anything to help them. He is such a sweetheart, one of the many reasons you fell red for him.

He uses his communion abilities to find out exactly what the problem is, and by informing the other vets about it, the job gets much easier by knowing exactly what to do.

He also takes some time to work out. Sure, when he was in a wheelchair he got some upper body strength, and those horns, man, those things must be so heavy. Not any troll could handle that weight, but your Tavbro has a strong neck and body. After you — quite easily — convinced Equius to build him a pair of robot legs, he began weight lifting. You just love to see him lifting up those things, and you know he would never use that strength for any malice.

Wait, what were you thinking about again? Motherfuck, you zoned out again. Got distracted by your miraculous husband. You were thinking about... Hmm– Oh yeah! About how you wanted to talk to him about something important.

You finished cooking and put them on the table, along with the silverware. Your husband came from the room wearing freshly clean pajamas, stretching his gorgeous body and giving his miraculous wings a flutter. He smiled when he noticed you and you grinned widely back, both of you showing your fangs.

“I can’t really smell much, from our block but, uh, what’s for dinner?” Tavros asked.

“Glad you asked bro, I was all up in the mood to try something motherfucking new, so I did some really nice human dishes, just not anything containing those motherfuckers originating from beasts, I know how you all up and dislike that shit.” You replied. You weren’t wrong, Tavbro is a vegetarian, meaning that he doesn’t eat meat. He cares about those creatures so much.

He sat down and you followed along. You two ate in a peaceful silence, enjoying the moment and the company of one another. After you two finished, you decided to leave the dishes for later. Tavros picked up the book he chose to read and laid down on the couch and patted his stomach, inviting you to lay there. You happily did so, being extremely careful of your horns which are becoming very tall — just like the rest of you. Soon enough you wouldn’t be able to lay your head on his belly anymore, the only way you’d be able to lay on him was resting your chin on his body, horns far from hitting his handsome and perfect face.

His wings were sprawled out nicely, and even though they were sensitive to the touch, your Tavbro always lets you touch it. He opened the book, but before he could begin reading it, you cleared your throat, catching his attention.

“Um, is something wrong, Gamzee?”

“Nah motherfucker, just... wanted to talk about something that has been taking alota place in my fuckin’ thinkpan for some time now.”

“Oh? What is it, then?” He started petting your head, effectively easing your tension — which you didn’t even notice to begin with.

“Well, y’know.. we’ve been all up and together alone for so motherfucking long now, and, well, it gets even lonelier when my hun isn’t around and shit, you know what I’m saying?

I mean, I ain’t saying I don’t enjoy our time alone, of course I motherfuckin’ do! But, um,” You took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m tryin to all up and say is that, I wanna adopt some motherfucking grubs, s’all.”

Tavros’ bronze eyes widened, a light blush covering his cute cheeks. But then, he laughed. Not in a mean way, absolutely never, but that laugh that was always music to your ears. “Gamzee, are you suggesting that, we should become lusii? Or, what the humans would call, uh, parents?”

You nod, a purple tint filling your cheeks. You stopped wearing face paint a long time ago, and also because Tav loves seeing your face.

“Oh Gamzee, you should’ve told me sooner, I would love to, form a family with you!” He left the book somewhere you couldn’t see and wrapped those beautiful arms of his around your chest, your face becoming more purple. But you can’t deny the true happiness you felt.

“Really? My Tavvy wants to raise some miracles with this motherfucker?” You were grinning really wide, your purple irises so full of joy and excitement. Tavros chuckled a bit more and tightened his grip just a bit.

“Of course I do, you silly. But uhm, first, we have to separate a room for them, and buy the necessary supplies.” The bronzeblood pointed out. You tried to nod, but it was a bit difficult to, so you just hummed in agreement. You kissed your husband’s arms and hands, and began feeling drowsy in his warm embrace.

“I love you, Tav.”

“I love you too, Gamzee.” He gently resumed petting your head until you drifted off to the land of miracles and dreams.

Yeah, you do like the way things are going now.

—

You are staring at the window of your comically oversized car, watching the city go by aa your husband Tavhun drives you to the orphanage. A few days ago you had filled the profile of your desired child, and now you just got an email saying that they have found a compatible match. They said the child has a younger sibling, but that was okay with you.

“We’re here, Gamz.” Tavros told you. You shake your head a bit while he parks the car. After exiting the vehicle and entering the building, you looked for the guy who attended you last time, and they said she was waiting for you on a certain room. You got the directions and followed along.

When you found it, you were faced with a violetblood troll — who seemed to be around 14 years old — playing with a human girl, who you assumed must be their younger sister, probably around the age of 10.

They looked at you with wide eyes, and you couldn’t help but grin widely of happiness, while your husband waved at them.

The woman introduced you to the children and told you that you had to come and visit them a few days to have a walk or engage in conversations, so you get to know them better and they get to know you. After getting closer, and if the relationship goes well, you will be allowed to adopt the kids.

Yeah, you think that will work.

—

3 years. 3 years have passed.

3 years since you have met the girls, got to know them, got close to them...

Was allowed to take them home.

You remember when you couldn’t contain your happiness. Tavros had to hold you while you cried purple tears of joy, thanking every Messiah out there for being able to adopt these children, being able to form a family with your lovely Tavbro.

You’re sitting in the couch with your husktop in your lap. You let out a deep breath and close it. You just uploaded a new recipe to your blog — which is quite popular, you must say. You see a lot of people making your recipes and you just feel so proud of yourself.

Your daughter Docmut — the violetblood troll — is sitting beside you, reading Tavros’ favorite book, Pupa Pan. Her human sister, Ella, is on the other side of the couch on her palmhusk (or phone, as humans call it) scrolling through social media. You feel Docmut tugging at your sleeve.

“Dad, I want to eat a cupcake.” she asks you. She loves your sweets, and you’re more than happy to make some for her. But that’ll ruin her appetite for dinner.

“Not now girl, y’know daddy is all up and eager to make some motherfucking baked good for my little girl, but it’s almost time for dinner and you will lose yer hunger an’ shit.” You explained to her. She pouted a bit.

“I’m not that little anymore, dad. I’m 17!”

“Ya will always be dad’s little girl.” you proceeded to wrap her in your arms in a big hug. She struggled but eventually gave in with a sigh. Ella chuckled a bit.

You heard the door opening and you all looked at it, seeing Tavros returning home from work. “I’m home!”

“Dad!” The girls shouted simultaneously, your husband coming to the couch and allowing them to hug him. You let go of Docmut and got up too, walking to your lover and crouched a bit to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Welcome home, Tav.” Your daughters went to sit on the couch again and you kissed him on the lips, which he gladly kissed back. You pulled back your lips and instead pulled an arm around his shoulders, still crouching. Man, sometimes it sucks to be tall. “How was work, motherfucker?”

“Ah, it was alright. Not much, things happened today, uh, just the usual.” He replied.

“Miracles.” You kissed his cheek.

“So dad, what’s for dinner?” Ella asked, and you looked at her.

“Man, I’m all up and tired today, not feeling up for cooking those motherfucking goods my miracles enjoy so much, y’know?” You pulled your arm back and stretched, and also slightly popped your back.

“So, do you want takeout?” Tavvy asked, also stretching and giving those miraculous wings of his a flutter.

“Sounds good to this motherfucking. What about my girls?” They nodded, agreeing with ordering food from tonight.

Tavbro went to take a shower, while you pulled up your palmhusk and ordered pizza. You went to join him while Docmut and Ella organized the table. When it arrived, you were all dressed in your pajamas and had a nice family dinner together. Your daughters talked about their hyperfixations which you were happy to listen to, even if you didn’t understand anything. You just love seeing them so passionate about something, it reminds you of when you and your honey were around their age, how he talked about his Fiduspawns — which he still enjoys a lot — and you didn’t understand anything, but loved hearing his voice.

After eating, you all washed the dishes together and then it was time for the girls to sleep, they shared a room, and even though Docmut was a troll, she preferred sleeping in a bed instead of a recuperacoon. You think she got used to beds back in the orphanage, or maybe thats just a seadweller thing. Thinking better, you don’t think you have ever seen a violet or fuchsiablood sleeping in a recuperacoon.

Anyways, you turned off the lights and they got comfortable. “Goodnight honeys, your daddys loves you.” And then you closed the door.

Since it was a friday night, you and your husband decided to have some alone time before going to sleep. He laid on the couch and looked for a movie watch, you carefully laid on top of him, resting your chin on his buff, hairy chest. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your skinny, yet slightly muscular body. You weren’t even paying attention to the movie he put, you were more interested in staring at your beautiful Tavros. His beautiful brown eyes, his grown mohawk (can it still be considered one?), his slight moustache and beard and his gorgeous muscular body.

“I love you.” You muttered, almost unheard by him.

“I love you too.” He replied, his voice drowsy from tiredness. Not much later, he was asleep, snoring lightly. You turned off the TV and carried him to your room. Despite him being much bigger than you, you could still carry him easily. That was one of the good things about being a highblood, your natural super strength.

You carefully laid him on your shared recuperacoon and immediately joined him, clinging to his body and being extremely careful of your horns, joining him on the land of sleep not much time later.

It was another peaceful day on the Nitram–Makara household, and you couldn’t be more happy for the life you have now.

—

Thank you for reading! Be sure to check my designs and headcanons for older Gamzee and Tavros. The kids designs were made by my friend @transmascjade be sure to check their account! ^-^

Also I've did some research regarding adoption of children, so apologies if i got anything wrong ^^"

[moonfromearth]

College Sim Dump!!

Will I ever be on time for a follower milestone? Not likely. 😅

Anyway, as a celebration for 150 followers here are eight cc free sims all enrolled in university! Each sim has been enrolled in a degree program, had two skills set to level three, signed up for organizations, as well as gotten scholarships!

Should you use them feel free to do as you want with them but I've provided some information on each one below the cut 😉😉

And finally a huge thank you to everyone who's followed me! I've had such a great time interacting with the simblr community and it means so much any time someone interacts with a post of mine so... Thank you!! 🤩🤩🤩

~ download (google drive) ~

A little about the sims...

Cassidy Whitmore (she/her) - Music Lover, Outgoing, Mean - Unapologetic, loud, and the mastermind behind The Whitmores, her and her brother's duo. A bit much to handle sometimes but a brilliant songwriter without much of a care for actually doing her homework, after all why write essays and answer multiple choice questions about songwriting when you can actually be writing songs?

Quinn Whitmore (he/him) - Music Lover, Paranoid, Good - Cassidy's younger brother. He looks up to his sister and has followed her lead thus far in life. His passion, though, lies more in the instrumental side of making music, and he's responsible for mixing songs that he and Cassidy work on together under the name The Whitmores. Good natured and friendly but overly anxious and tends to overthink too much. Actually does his homework, unlike his sister.

Whitley Miller (she/her) - Geek, Bro, Slob - The ace of Britechester's ESports team, Whitley's entire life revolves around gaming, modding games, and, well, more games. She's already completed several small video games as well as dozens popular mods for various games. Though some could say she's a little.. Unorganized, but who has the time to clean their room anyway?

Kai Māhoe (he/him) - Adventurous, Active, Squeamish - Britechester's all star soccer player, Kai is an athlete through and through. Outside of soccer he also snowboards and rock climbs, having gained himself several sponsors while still being in college. He's hoping to study abroad for a year and go to Mt Komorebi in order to reach the summit of the famed mountain for which the area is named.

Zoe Cho (she/her) - Art Lover, High Maintenance, Vegetarian - An artist who holds her opinion in the highest regard. Dreams of becoming an art critic but only after having her work featured within every famed San Myshuno gallery's walls. I imagine she wears contacts but unfortunately that's not a thing in the game so... Her natural eye color is brown. Member of the Britechester Art Society.

Blake Nora (he/him) - Perfectionist, Bookworm, Loves the Outdoors - You might recognize Blake if you've seen my last sim dump. His cousin, Jennifer, and him are pretty much identical. Blake was created by accident while I was trying to figure out Jennifer's look and personality. Anyway, Blake's a devoted student but rather than go on daring adventures like his cousin he'd prefer a good book and a small garden. He's a member of The Debate Guild solely to put it on his resumed, as he hates confrontation and arguing... So basically everything about The Debate Guild.

Averie Stewart (she/her) - Dance Machine, Hot Headed, Noncommittal - A dancer and cheerleader pursuing a career in theater, hoping to one day travel the world performing, never settling anywhere. Loves to have fun and hang out with friends but don't get on her bad side. Fun fact: Her look was inspired a lot by K-pop group dance practice videos. Member of the Foxbury Spirit Squad.

Gus Richards (they/them) - Self-Absorbed, Genius, Glutton - A medium with psychic abilities and an ego that's waaay too big. They're going to revolutionize paranormal research (so they claim). Probably watched Ghostbusters one too many times as a kid. On Foxbury's robotics team.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Aftercare - a Malevolent Fanfic

Arthur wakes up.

Nothing goes quite as expected.

Though... it's obvious Hastur (again) has a plan. He REALLY needs to stop doing that.

(Takes place in the Surrogate series, after Consecrated)

AO3

---------

The whole palace is abuzz.

Did you hear—

Shouted… Jaws?

I heard it was Bon. Like, French.

French? Why would he shout in French?

The kitchens are muttering.

A double mark? You heard that wrong.

No, my duchess was there. She saw it. Two marks.

Two? Can you get close enough to see?

Ha! Like I have a death-wish.

The training grounds are talking about it, too, and that’s where Faroe picks up a few inappropriate things.

#

She doesn’t wanna be up this early, delaying breakfast and time with her daddy. Dawn is not her favorite time. Her pouts, however, leave no impression, and daddy says she must.

You will be queen of all someday, he tells her, which sounds like a nice thing, if vague. You must know how to do more than you do now. Magic, arms, debate, intrigue… you will master them all.

She sort of understood what all of that meant?

It had sounded a lot more exciting than being up super early, wearing weird, new clothes made of leather and linen, and holding a bow that wasn’t a harp, but sort of felt like one, except it shot sticks instead of making music.

She much preferred the harp.

It’s so hard to pull back!

It’s so hard to keep the arrow from just… twisting out to the right and away from the string!

It’s so hard to aim!

Faroe is not used to anything being difficult for her to do, and her frustration in the first fifteen minutes leads to a truly rare event: she has a tiny meltdown.

Hastur studied human development and knows children do that, so his instructions were clear: when she tantrums, let her have her cry, and pay her no attention at all. Do not reward the bad behavior. Do not give her what she wants. Let her get it out of her system, then simply resume as though nothing at all occurred.

Well, it works. Zero reaction is not the response Faroe was looking for, and she ends up with hitching breaths, curled against Nibbles’ side in the grass, still calming down while the grownups talk some feet away.

“I still don’t understand,” one of them (the spear-guy, who seems to have no purpose here as she cannot yet lift a spear) says. “Why would he mark the guy he hates?”

“Right?” says her archery instructor (whom, Faroe admits, she likes). “Nobody seems to get it. The ceremony was full of mixed signals.”

Spear-guy sighs and runs his hand through his brown hair. “This place just keeps getting weirder. I dunno. Maybe we should take that offer. Go to Teloth, after all.”

The archer makes such a face that Faroe almost flips out of her misery to giggle, but she doesn’t, and so the archer keeps talking. “Why the hell would you want to go to that place?”

“Safer. I don’t like this, Dis.”

The archer, Dis, shrugs expansively. “We’re not safe anywhere. At least here, it’s interesting; there’s beauty. Banger music. Good food. Friends. Allies.”

Spear-guy counts off on his fingers. “Weird intrigue. An unreliable god who fucks off for ten years at a go. Some kind of… fucked-up bondage situation, or something, with a human? I don’t know. It feels unstable.”

“Go if you want. I like her. I want to see her grow.” Dis indicates Faroe with a nod of her head.

“Yeah, that’s a whole other kettle of worms.”

“Stick around, Thoth. Just a little longer. It’ll all work out.”

Spear-guy Thoth rolls his eyes. “That’s why they gave you the kid to teach. Optimism doesn’t work past the age of ten.”

She laughs, punches his shoulder, and goes to check on Faroe.

Her hitching has mostly stopped now. She peers up from the circle of Nibbles’ legs, a limpid-eyed innocent cradled by horror.

“Are you ready to continue the lesson, Your Highness?” says Dis.

“Okay,” Faroe says, who doesn’t want to, but does want to make her daddy proud (and is just a little embarrassed at the tantrum she threw).

She doesn’t see uncle Arthur anywhere, not today. Daddy says he’s resting.

She doesn’t see him tomorrow, either.

Funny how people keep talking about him, though.

#

Two days later, Arthur wakes up and takes a moment to see if he’s still himself.

He’d been half sure he’d wake up some kind of drone, mind broken, erased, or… slavishly devoted to Hastur, now, or… something. Something awful.

None of that seemed to have happened.

He feels like himself? Then again, would he know?

“I want Hastur to go to hell,” he says, which he’s pretty sure he couldn’t do if he’d been lobotomized, and exhales in relief.

Only if I get to watch, says John, and paws along his face. It’s a slightly clumsy motion. Welcome back.

“Hey.” Arthur catches John’s wrist and pulls his hand away. His heart pounds, but it seems to still be his own. “I… I’m all right? We did it?”

You are. We did. What do you remember? John sounds the opposite of the way he had before it happened. Happy. Tension-free.

Arthur exhales. “I don’t even know where to start. You were there, though, somehow.”

I sure as fuck was.

John sounds like the cat that got the cream.

Wincing, Arthur sits up. He’s in bed; judging by the scents, he’s been bathed. Someone actually tucked him in. Weird. He feels sore through his chest, physically aching around his heart, but that makes sense. “Are you all right?”

More than. I’m still a little loopy, actually.

“Loopy?”

Magic-drunk. You missed me drunk, Arthur. It’s a shame. I doubt it’ll happen again any time soon.

Arthur is surprised into a small, brief laugh. “You got drunk?”

It was glorious, Arthur. If I knew how to do it on command, I would.

“So that’s what happens when somebody occupied gets marked, I guess.” He’s speaking lightly, but he feels…

He never wants to feel like that again. It was too much. Just… too much. Arthur scratches his scalp vigorously, trying to wake up. “What happened after… after he did it?”

After we did it. He washed the blood off you and put you to bed.

Arthur swallows. “So you… you did do it, too, somehow.”

Yes. You remember?

“Bits and pieces. Not a lot.” Too much. “I don’t… really want to feel that way again.”

John sounds sad. Right. Of course.

“I was afraid it would… do something to me.”

It did. John is less blithe about this. He… we both… have sway over you, if we wish. And we know how you feel, now, if we want to.

So he had even less privacy than he’d had before. Arthur sighs. “Terrific. Can I know what you’re thinking?”

No. This is very much a one-way spell.

Arthur sighs again. “Well, I hope he knows I hate him, then.” He slides out of bed.

The bottom of his feet hurt. He’s discovered that how much they hurt tends to tie directly to how long he was horizontal. “So you really both marked me.”

Yes.

Goodness, that was aggressive. “I thought you said there couldn’t be more than one mark.”

There can’t. Neither of us can explain it. I think, maybe, it’s because we’re… both the King in Yellow.

John says that hesitantly. Afraid, perhaps, of Arthur’s response.

It’s not news. Arthur has neither censure nor reassurance to give right now; whatever else this did, it didn’t seem to have… repaired whatever’s wrong with him. “Does it make a difference?”

John sputters. Yes! To me! To us!

“All right.” The only thing he cares about is that it is over. Arthur heads to the bathroom. “Tell me what you were like when you were drunk.”

And John brightens right up. I think I was funny!

#

Left again. You keep drifting right today.

Seventy-three steps. Seventy-seven now, because he has to correct again. “Sorry.”

“Uncle Arthur!” And it isn’t the tiny flap of unshod feet this time, but a surprisingly heavy clop of tiny boots.

She’s coming from your right—brace yourself.

Faroe leaps into him full-bore, and Arthur barely manages to stay on his feet.

He doesn’t care.

He kneels and holds her, and knows he shouldn’t, but holds her, and it’s been days, and he laughs because she jumps a little in his arms and bonks his chin with her head.

“I’m learning arrows!” she proclaims.

She’s wearing… that’s clever, John says, grumpily. A simple sheath-dress, but over it is light leather armor—paneled, so it moves with her. She wears an arm-sheath, as well, very scraped… she’s been learning archery.

“Good for you,” says Arthur.

“What’s a catamite?” says Faroe, and Arthur forgets how to breathe.

#

After Arthur stops choking (and John stops yelling, which required an apology), Faroe is distracted enough that she’s forgotten her question.

Which is good, because Arthur’s head is spinning.

Breakfast is entirely Faroe talking about her new lessons. She’s gotten over her upset of the first day, mostly because she’s able to hit the target; now that she’s having success, it’s all a delight.

“You’re doing so well, my daughter,” says Hastur at him, but the volley misses because Arthur’s head still spins.

Catamite? Catamite? Had somebody—

Had he been—

In front of everybody—

No. No, this had nothing to do with him. It couldn’t have. John would have told him.

“And the spear guy said Teloth might be safe and he wanted to go, and then Captain Dis came back and taught me how to stand better, and—”

Hastur has… tensed slightly, says John, very quietly.

Arthur suspects “spear guy” won’t be teaching Faroe again.

Faroe has eaten all her spiced egg and half an orange. More than she usually does; she must have had quite a morning.

“It is time for your next lesson,” says Hastur.

“Already?”

She is looking at him with huge eyes; I think she’s figured out how to weaponize her cuteness, Arthur.

“Well, we knew that was coming,” Arthur murmurs back.

“But I wanna play with Nibbles,” she says, too used to their muttering to mind it.

“You can do that after your lessons,” Hastur says.

One of his tentacles brushes her face. It is… a gentle, affectionate touch, and she leans into it.

“You make me very proud,” Hastur says.

And somehow, Arthur knows that one wasn’t aimed at him.

Weird. He’s not sure how he knows. Maybe it was the tenderness in Hastur’s voice, or—

“Okay,” she says, because she really is a well-behaved girl, and hops down from her chair.

She’s so small, says John. She’s practically disappeared up to her eyes on the other side of the table. Ah—she’s smiling at you.

“Uncle Arthur?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Will you come play with me later today?”

Everyone goes really damn still.

“I…” What’s safe? “I…” What won’t get him in trouble, or keep him away from her, or—

“I see no reason why not,” says Hastur, absolutely blowing Arthur’s mind.

Arthur turns toward him in shock.

“Yay!” says Faroe, and darts off at full speed, boots clacking quickly along the marble floor.

Arthur stares. Well. He faces. John is the one who stares.

All right, John says. What’s your fucking angle here?

“No angle, Piece. I merely… mean to be more attentive to my court composer’s needs. That is all.”

“Right.” Neither of them believe that.

“Did you sleep well?” says Hastur in warm and syrupy tones that cannot mean anything good.

Was he still being spoken to? “Me?” says Arthur.

“Yes, you. I ask because you feel… unwell.”

Arthur frowns. “I feel fine.” He turns back to his little bowl of garlicky, herbed yogurt and poached egg, and pokes at it with his spoon.

Hastur rumbles. It’s not quite a growl, but it isn’t good.

What are you up to? John snarls.

Hastur ignores that. “I do not appreciate lies, Arthur.”

Arthur stiffens. “I’m fine. I said I was fine.”

“You are not ‘fine.’”

Arthur sighs and rubs his forehead. What was this? What was he doing now? “Sure. Not fine. Whatever you say. I need to get to work on the jubilee.” He stands.

“Sit. Down.”

Arthur grips the back of his chair and does not move.

John inhales. Arthur, you would defy him? He sounds like Christmas came early.

“I see,” says Hastur. “This is your… normal, is what you’re poorly communicating. This is how you feel every day.”

“Yes.” Arthur does not want to sit back down, but he doesn’t dare walk away, either.

“I see. Well: you are correct—you do owe a jubilee.”

“I owe three.”

Hastur’s rumble is so pleased. “You kept track.”

“Of course I kept track. It’s my fucking job. Can I go?”

Oh, Arthur, says John as though Arthur were doing something amazing. (Which is damned confusing, because he’s fairly sure he’s not.)

“Piece.”

What?

And Hastur switches into R’Lyehian. “Mgleth? fahf ah ahf' ymg' gotha?”

Mgleth!

So this was going to be that kind of conversation. Arthur sighs, gives in, and sits back down to poke at his Turkish eggs.

Hastur repeats and continues. [“Truth? This is who you want? This… weak, pitiful creature? I know you feel his mortality. We aren’t even discussing the flaws of his personality now.”]

John growls. [You damn well know the answer is yes.]

[“Have you considered,”] Hastur says without warning, [“that you still get to keep him if you come home to me?”]

John isn’t prepared for that. He chokes. [What?]

“You okay?” Arthur murmurs.

Fine. Shut up.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but does.

[“This whole time, John, you’ve been offered a choice—him or me. I understand. It’s a terrible position. I see now you will never give him up. I didn’t truly grasp your passion for him until… well. The other night.”]

Hastur makes it sound absolutely illicit.

[What’s your damn point?] John snarls.

[“That things have changed, John. You can have both.”]

John makes a choked sound, worse this time.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Arthur murmurs around another bite of egg.

[That’s not… that’s not true,] says John, stumbling over the consonants.

[“Isn’t it? He is here, cared for, through no choice of my own—and that would not change if you came home. Come back, John. End this. And we will still keep him. He stays as he is. Perhaps even… better cared for, as you and I would be working together for his well-being, for once.”]

Silence.

[“It’s not as though you can handle his needs as you are, and I don’t really want to—but together…”]

Arthur. Get up. We’re leaving.

“Must’ve been a hell of a secret loud conversation,” Arthur mutters, standing.

“Think about it, Piece. That’s all I’m saying,” says Hastur.

John wants to do it. Oh, gods, he wants to do it. He’s panicking because he wants to do it. Move. Go. Now.

“All right, shit. Moving.” Arthur heads toward the door as best he can.

Left! Damn it. More left.

“C' ahor h' goka mgn'ghftephai,” Hastur says after them, calm, content, condescending.

John hisses.

“What the hell did he say now?”

We could give him sight.

Nothing. He’s being an ass. He’s pissy he has to share you.

Arthur scoffs. “Has to? You’d think he’d be grateful he doesn’t have to… I don’t know. Bother with me all by himself, or whatever this is.”

We could give him sight.

It’s more complicated than that.

“What else did he say? He said a lot, John.”

John is quiet a moment too long. I don’t want to talk about it.

Arthur frowns. So it really was that kind of conversation. He doesn’t have the emotional energy to push. “Fine.”

Left. You keep drifting today.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmurs.

Oh… to be whole.

And to have Arthur.

John wouldn’t do it, of course. Of course. He’d never. But damn Hastur for saying it.

Damn Hastur for planting the idea.

Damn Hastur for offering something that John wants to believe could… work.

Maybe.

You could have both.

No, I couldn’t, he tells himself, and No, I couldn’t, he reminds himself, and No, I couldn’t, he writes on his heart and repeats in his soul and chants to himself as Arthur works through the next part of the jubilee, playing parts on the piano which are magically transcribed to paper for the instrumentalists he never sees.

You could have both.

No, I couldn’t, John tells himself, because he can never be whole, and fights very hard not to cry.

[keneestorytimelibrary]

Rockey Chapter 4

"Well that one was a no…" I said to myself as I crossed out the “Live In Nanny” position off of my list. It had been a week since I emailed my resume to them, and I had only now received a response back. It was a formal response, or as formal as it could be, as it questioned the nerve I had applying to a job I didn't qualify for. They ended up hiring a college student a few days earlier, and had simply forgotten to notify the other applicants. 

          I've been running between job interviews, and the only thing I've accomplished was a well deserved work out. After all of the food and booze I've consumed over the past few weeks, I would still need to continue walking for another couple of miles to burn off everything. 

          At the current moment, I was sitting outside a Dunkin Donuts, enjoying my third cup of Iceed Coffee. I knew I was going to regret it later, but I was going to have to live with that regret, cause it tasted so good. I took a sneak peak at my interview list, which had gotten shorter. I only had two interviews left; both of which were at the mall. 

          "I thought I've gotten past that point in my life where I would need to find work at a mall?" I said to myself depressingly. I figured I would be at a different part of my life at this age. The fact that I was currently considering working at the GAP, meant that I had hit a new low. But money was money, and I needed a lot of it. 

          I felt my phone vibrate in my pants suit pocket; my short break was over. In order to make it to my next interview, I would need to walk 45 minutes. Thankfully I was wearing something comfortable: a dark gray pant suit with a pink blouse. I had on flats, and my hair was let loose into large curls. When this is done, I am going to buy Tony the biggest bottle of wine.

          I got up, and began making my way down Broad St. For the first few minutes, I remained focused. But by the time I made it to the next block, I got distracted. I began looking through shop windows, and bought small snacks. I'm such a mess…

          As I crossed to the next block, I noticed a small child walking by himself. He had on a private school uniform: navy blue pants, gray jacket, white button up shirt with a navy blue bowtie. His reddish-brown hair was disheveled, as if he had just woken up. But it was his face that caught my attention. His face had lost all color, and there was a blank expression in his eyes. There seemed to be something wet covering most of his head, and the top half of his uniform. It was as if something was poured over him. 

          'Was he being bullied?' I asked myself. The thought alone triggered back a flood of painful memories. If this kept up, I was going to end up drunk and binge eating again. 'FUCKING GREAT!'

          This kid was gaining the attention of everyone around him. Some were concerned, but for the most part, they kept to themselves. Though I knew I had to go to the next interview, I couldn't help but follow him. I wanted to make sure he was ok.

          Once he hit the corner of the street, he turned to his right, and continued walking. It was a quiet, dead end street; not many shops, other than one pizzeria. I continued following him, making sure nothing happened to him. 'But how long can I follow this kid without making it creepy?'

          I began walking right next to him, hoping he would notice my presence. But I quickly realized I could have worn a space suit clown outfit, while dancing the macarena; I was never going to get noticed by this kid. 

          "Hey kid, are you ok?" I asked softly. I guess I startled him, because he stopped and turned to stare at me with wide eyes. Before he could answer me, we were interrupted by a small group of boys. 

          "There goes the little immigrant bastard!" A boy yelled from behind us. There were four of them, looking as if they were in their last year of middle school. They all seemed to be well-fed, because they were big and chunky.

          The look on the little boy never went away; in fact, it looked like it got worse. His attention turned to his abusers, and his face turned a sickly pale color. He began to shake at the sight of them. A large knot began forming at the bottom of my stomach. 

          The main bully began to waltz over to us; he didn't even bother looking at me. He figured I was not going to do anything. He was a brunette “pretty” boy, who came up to my shoulders. There was an arrogant, cocky manner in the way he walked; it bothered the shit out of me. 

          "Who the fuck do you kids think you are?" I asked, stepping in front of the small child. The little boy looked at me, as if just realizing I was still there.

          "Move bitch!" The main kid said as he attempted to push me out of the way. Without thinking I grabbed his arm, twisted it behind him, and pushed him back to his group. Apparently I used too much force, cause there were tears in his eyes. The other three boys had a look of fear as they saw their “ringleader” reduced to tears.

          "They don't make bullies the same way anymore, huh?" I asked out loud. "Why don't you punk ass kids get out of here before I show you some old school bullying." The group of kids looked at each other, back to me, before turning around. 

         "This isn't over tomato-face little bitch!" The ringleader said, before leaving with his cronies. They raced towards the end of the street before jumping into a black town car. I didn't get a chance to write down the license plate.   

          "I don't need your damn help!" The little boy grunted angrily from behind me. He had a heavy Italian accent, but spoke perfect English. I turned around with a weird, annoyed face; I was not going to let this brat talk to me like that after I saved him.

          "Look here kid, I don't give a flying rat's ass if you asked for help, or not. I'm not going to let anyone get bullied in front of me." I said as I crossed my arms, giving him my best adult look. 

          "Wipe that look off your face, grandma! I could've handled my own! I don't need help from other bullies!" He said as he attempted to walk away from me. I should've just left it as is, but for some reason, I couldn't help but interfere more. 

          "Look here you piece of slimy poop!" I said, grabbing the kid on the shoulder and redirecting him to a small table outside the pizzeria. Before he had a chance to protest, I forced him to sit. I looked at him eye to eye, making sure he understood how serious I was. 

          "I never said I was a bully...I just know how to deal with them." My voice dropped a little as I remembered my high school years. "I just know how bullies work." 

          I grabbed a few napkins off of my small handbag, and drenched it with some water from my water bottle. I carefully began to wipe his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was clearly not happy with me touching him. His eyes showed he had no trust in me, and if I was not careful of what I did or said, I'd lose him. 

          "One time, my bully kept me inside the girl's bathroom for the entire day. She kept beating my ass, and dunking my head into the toilet. I swear to this day, I cannot pass a public bathroom without feeling like there is still shit and piss in my hair. I think I got all of it out…"

          He laughed for a split second, before returning to a serious face. I broke through somehow, and I needed to make sure I kept it up. 

          After a few minutes of silence, he asked, "H-how old were you?" 

          "I was 16." I admitted in defeat. "My name is Jaz, but you can call me Rockey." I said, extending my hand. He took it after a few seconds of hesitation. 

          "My name is Matteo." he said.

[boricuacherry-blog]

Christopher Brown and Robyn F. have been involved in a dating relationship for approximately one and a half years. On Sunday February 8, 2009 at 0025 hours, Brown was driving a vehicle with Robyn F. as the front passenger on an unknown street in Los Angeles. Robyn F. picked up Brown's cellular telephone and observed a three page text message from a woman who Brown had a previous sexual relationship with.

A verbal argument ensued and Brown pulled the vehicle over on an unknown street, reached over Robyn F. with his right hand, opened the car door and attempted to force her out. Brown was unable to force Robyn F. out of the vehicle because she was wearing a seatbelt.

When he could not force her to exit, he took his right hand and shoved her head against the passenger window of the vehicle, causing an approximate one inch raised circular contusion. Robyn turned to face Brown and he punched her in the face with his right hand while steering the vehicle with his left hand. The assault caused Robyn F.'s mouth to fill with blood and blood to spatter all over her clothing and the interior of the vehicle. Brown looked at Robyn F. and stated, "I'm going to beat the shit out of you when we get home! You wait and see!"

Robyn F. picked up her cellular telephone and called her personal assistant Jennifer Rosales, but she did not answer the telephone, but while her voice-mail greeting was playing, Robyn F. pretended to talk to her and stated, "I'm on my way home. Make sure the cops are there when I get there." This statement was made while the greeting was playing and was not captured as a message. After Robyn F faked the call, Brown looked at her and stated, "You just did the stupidest thing ever! Now I'm really going to kill you!"

Brown resumed punching Robyn F. and she interlocked her fingers behind her head and brought her elbows forward to protect her face. She then bent over at the waist, placing her elbows and face near her lap in an attempt to protect her face and head from the barrage of punches being levied upon her by Brown.

Brown continued to punch Robyn F. on her left arm and hand, causing her to suffer a contusion on her left triceps that was approximately two inches in diameter and numerous contusions on her left hand. Robyn F. then attempted to send a text message to her other personal assistant, Melissa Ford. Brown snatched the cellular telephone out of her hand and threw it out the window onto an unknown street.

Brown continued driving and Robyn F. observed his cellular telephone sitting in his lap. She picked up the cellular telephone with her left hand and before she could make a call, he placed her in a headlock with his right hand, and continued to drive the vehicle with his left hand. Brown pulled Robyn F. close to him and bit her on her left ear. She was able to feel the vehicle swerving from right to left as he sped away. He stopped the vehicle in front of [address] and Robyn F. turned off the car, removed the key from the ignition and sat on it.

Brown did not know what she had done with the key and began punching her in the face and arms. He then placed her in a headlock positioning the front of her throat between his bicep and forearm. Brown began applying pressure to Robyn F.'s left and right carotid arteries causing her to be unable to breathe and she began to lose consciousness. She reached up with her left hand and began attempting to gouge his eyes in an attempt to free herself. Brown bit her left ring and middle fingers and then released her.

While Brown continued to punch her, she turned around and placed her back against the passenger door. She brought her knees to her chest, placed her feet against Brown's body and began pushing him away. Brown continued to punch her on her legs and feet causing several contusions.

Robyn F. began screaming for help and Brown exited the vehicle and walked away. A resident in the neighborhood heard Robyn F's pleas for help and called 911, causing a police response.

-Police report detailing domestic dispute between Chris Brown and Rihanna, 2009

[sarahthebanished]

Can’t Fight This Feeling Pt. 1

“For…me?” He asked.

“What?”

“You said… you said you wanted to look pretty for ME?”

You chewed at the inside of your lip. “Well, yea, Eddie!” You blurted out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of have a crush on you!” You felt bold now.

“ME?” Eddie asked again, his eyebrows furrowed and his face showing genuine confusion. “Yes, you absolute shithead! On you! I have a big fat fucking crush on YOU!”

***Eddie Munson x Female Reader • 18 plus • 5.5k words***

cursing, drug use, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, arguing and making up, eventual smut

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

This fic was inspired by the beautiful art work linked here. Please check her out and give her a follow.

Detention again. Third time this month. Never ending cycle for you, it seemed. Just couldn’t get it together, your smart mouth had been getting you in trouble since you learned to form sentences. Especially when annoying teachers asked you stupid questions. Sometimes, the punishment was worth the satisfaction of whatever comment you made to land yourself in this room. 

After hours, the school was eerily quiet. You and a few others sat scattered in this room with Mr. Higgins behind the desk, feet propped up reading a magazine. He glanced over the top of the magazine every now and then to make sure all was well. 

You shifted in your desk, doodling on your notebook paper, and glanced at the clock. 4:05. Only 10 more minutes and you’d be free, riding home on your bike to heat up some canned semblance of food and play Super Mario Bros all night. Your mom was working 12 hour night shifts at the hospital, and she had recently splurged for the gaming system as an apology for being gone all the time. 

Movement out of the corner of your eye pulled your attention from the clock. A few seats in front of you, another detention regular and friend of yours, Eddie Munson was twisting his long and unruly hair into a messy ponytail on the back of his head. He had his nails painted black, fingers littered with heavy silver rings. You admired the tattoo on his arm, a cluster of bats flying across an implied sky. He was the freakiest of the freaks here at Hawkins High, a title which he seemed to be proud of most of the time. But as a freak yourself, you knew that it wasn’t always easy being different from most everyone around you. 

Mr. Higgins stood up and announced he was going to the “little boys room” and cautioned all 5 of you in the room to behave as he stepped out into the hallway. Getting up from his desk almost as soon as the teacher was out of sight, Eddie slid into the desk next to you. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said with a smile on his face, laying one arm out across the desk and laying his head down on it, looking up at you with big, brown eyes. All charm, he was. “I can’t be tamed,” you joked back. His eyes sparkled at your response.  “Hey, wanna smoke after we get outta here?” Eddie asked. “You can throw your bike in the back of my van, I’ll drive you home.” 

He looked up at you again, still sprawled out across the desk like it was the world comfiest bed. His face was just so hopeful, like he was worried you wouldn’t say yes. But, looking at him, you thought…how could you say no? So you didn’t, nodding yes as you went back to your doodle. 

“Mr. Munson,” warned Mr. Higgins as he walked back into the room, “Please get back to your assigned seat.” Eddie rolled his eyes and made a mocking face as he rose up and resumed his spot two desks ahead of yours. You glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes. 

****

Moments after everyone was dismissed from the after hours punishment, you and Eddie were walking together towards the parking lot. This was familiar. In the year since you’d moved here, you’d become friends with Eddie, who seemed to have a habit of adopting the newbies and loners. Part of you knew that he did it because he wanted to keep anyone else from feeling like he did. Ostracized and alone. Eddie didn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones he did keep close he loved fiercely. You were not sure if he held you in the same regard he did Dustin or Gareth but you were happy regardless, to have him in your life at all. He was hard to get to know, which was surprising considering his crass behavior at school, at The Hideout where his band performed, in public, at home, everywhere actually. But once you spent several hours long smoke and hang out sessions in each other presence, and broke past the outer edges of Eddie Munson… underneath was a soft and gentle person who was lacking confidence after years of struggling under the backlash he got just from being himself. 

His parents weren’t around, he had no siblings, his only family was his Uncle Wayne who, like your mom, worked long night shifts to pay the bills and keep them in the humble trailer the pair shared. You quickly learned that the acceptance and kindness Eddie showed to you (and others) was a reflection of what he was missing in his own life. He wouldn’t admit that, of course, but you didn’t need him too. 

Eddie slammed the door shut on the back of his van after tossing your bike inside, and you parted ways to either side of the vehicle, reuniting as you both climbed into your respective seats. He cranked the old thing up, it roared to life and Eddie immediately pressed play on the stereo, Flag of Hate by Kreator bellowed out loudly and he immediately started bobbing his head and tapping his ring clad fingers on the steering wheel as he began to drive. You smiled softly, just enjoying his energy. The drive to your house was short and neither of you spoke, the first song fading into another that didn’t even get a chance to end before his van was parked in the drive way of your small house. Two bedroom, one bathroom, in an ok part of town. Not the best but better than trailer park Eddie called home. 

He grabbed his faithful metal lunch box and hopped out of the drivers side, following behind you as you both approached the front door. 

“You got any food?” Eddie inquired, before you had even turned your key in the lock. You chuckled and offered “I got spaghettios?” To which Eddie replied by smacking his open palm on his own thigh, as if it was the best news he had heard all day. “That’ll do!”

Inside you heated up two cans of them on the stove in the small kitchen as Eddie sat at the kitchen table and rolled you each a joint, rambling about his latest ideas for one of his campaigns with The Hellfire club. 

“It’s called a Manticore,” he explained with excitement in his voice, “It’s got a fucking lion body, and a scorpion tale! So bad ass.” You nodded with approval, listening as you slowly stirred the pot. “That sounds…intense,” you said as you pulled two bowls from the cabinet.

“Oh, it is!” Eddie continued rambling, his mind so focused on his story that the paper sat in his right hand, open and halfway full of bud but still unrolled. His left hand was moving about dramatically, like an extension of his words. “Its got an armor class of 14 which isn’t that high but it has like, 70 hit points so it’s harder to beat.” 

“You are very attractive when you’re passionate,” you admit as you serve up the canned dinner. Eddie suddenly got very quiet. “Uh oh,” you tease, “is that a blush I see on your cheeks, Munson?” He goes back to rolling the forgotten joint and grins, “Shut your mouth.”

 You slide a bowl in front of him and sit down opposite. He brings the joint to his mouth, his tongue delicately drawing across the paper to moisten it slightly. As he runs it across his tongue, he looks up at you purposefully and the eye contact makes you feel warm all over. “Uh oh,” he says mockingly as he presses the final seal into the joint, “is that blush I see on your cheeks?” and he laughs at himself, like he is truly the funniest person alive, trading the joint in his hand for a spoon and shoveling in a bite of the food you served him. 

Sitting at your table, the two of you alone in the house, eating dinner with Eddie, about to smoke and talk for hours. None of it was out of the usual, as it had quickly become something you guys did at least once a week. However, lately you’d noticed subtle changes in the dynamic between the two of you. Sitting closer on the couch, your thighs touching. Lingering looks at each other’s bodies when either of you were up and moving around. Both of you were always quick with words, but the flirting had been turned up exponentially over the last few weeks. You felt like you could tell that whatever feelings you were developing for Eddie, he was developing too. But you were unsure. Scared to make things uncomfortable, you had never taken it just over the line. Never made a move. Eddie hadn’t either, to be fair, and the last thing you wanted to do was cross a boundary and make things weird with….well, the only real friend you had at this point. 

As both of you finished your food, Eddie scooped your bowl up and placed them both in the sink. “Such a gentleman,” you cooed sarcastically. “Can you wash em, too?” 

“Sorry, sweetheart. No deal.” 

In unison, you both picked up one of the joints Eddie had rolled and moved towards the front door. Outside in the haze of the dimming sky, you sat side by side on the small concrete slab in front of your door. Backs leaning against the door you had just come out of. You both let your legs stretch out in front of you, your feet lining up right next to his ankles. You wiggled your toes to draw his attention to the height difference. “Midget,” he teased, passing you the lighter from his pocket. You held the flame to the end of the joint, the paper crackling as you puffed to draw the heat into the herb inside. Eddie watched you take a big puff and hold it in as you handed the lighter off you to him, where he mirrored your actions. 

You leaned your head back against the door, exhaling suddenly when the pressure in your chest became too much. Relaxation already creeping out from your core. “Shit, I love weed,” you said bluntly and Eddie cackled, choking on the hit he had drawn into his own lungs. “Jesus,” he said between coughs. “Marry me now.” You pushed your shoulder into his at the comment, but the words felt good to hear. 

“You know, I never was a stoner until I met you. I mean, I’d smoked now and then, but you completely corrupted me.” 

Eddie beamed at you, a toothless grin on his face as he took another hit. “I have that affect on people, it’s a talent of mine.” 

Your eyes lingered on the profile of his face, hard and soft at the same time. Full lips and prominent nose. Slightly squared chin. Cheeks that wrinkled as he smiled. His eyes were big and bright, always looking like he was in wonder of the world around him. His face was expressive and you loved that. Never had to guess what he was thinking. Which is why now, as you studied him, you saw a slight frown and were unsure what could’ve caused it. 

You took another hit and gauged the energy between the two of you. It felt like there was heat buzzing between your shoulder and his. As the sun set further, the evening breeze blew and made you shiver, though the early fall air was nowhere near cold. You wanted to say something, but not sure what, so you settled on, “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Yea?” He asked, plucking a loose piece of bud off his bottom lip and flicking it from his finger to the ground. 

“Yea.” You assured. Didn’t feel the need to explain why. 

“Me, too.” He replied after a moment. Didn’t feel the need to explain why, either. 

You finished your smoking in silence, both of you just staring off at the darkening sky. 

“I know it’s lame but I get a little scared being here by myself at night,” you admit. Eddie chuckled, “You?! You’re like, so not the type to be scared of the dark.” 

“I am not scared of the dark.” You insisted. “I’m scared of what’s IN the dark. Potentially. Possibly.” 

“Ok, that’s fair…” he trailed off. “I’ll protect you.” He insisted, place a large hand on your thigh. Your stoned mind immediately focused on it, staring down at the hand. He withdrew, apologizing, and you realized he probably thought your reaction was BAD because you were so stunned by the sudden contact. He’d never touched you anywhere other than a quick hug, your shoulder maybe. The hand on your thigh felt so personal. 

You apologized back and tried to explain through your stumbling words than you hadn’t minded the touch, in fact you liked it, but you were awkward at this point and too high to make much sense so you trailed off without even making a solid argument. 

“What I mean is….my mom is always gone at night and sometimes I get paranoid. Especially when I get high by myself. Focusing on every sound I hear, you know? The house isn’t big but it’s empty and I’ve watched….a lot of horror movies.” 

“I get it,” Eddie said. You knew he did. He spent a lot of nights alone, too. “I could stay.” He offered suddenly. “You know, on the couch…”

You smiled at him before practically yelling, “SLUMBER PARTY!” 

He laughed with his whole belly, “Will ya braid my hair?” 

“Mmhmm, only if you paint my nails black like yours.” 

At this comment, he held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, like he himself was noticing the polish for the first time. “You like it?” He asked, and you could just hear in his voice that he really needed to know, on a deep level, that you did. 

“I definitely do,” you reassured him, reaching out to grab the hand closest to you and pulling it up in front of your own face. “I definitely, definitely do…” and suddenly, something in you prompted you to delicately place a kiss on the largest knuckle. A quick and tender display, Eddie was surprised by it. But he never moved his hand a centimeter, like he was hoping you’d do it again. Silence settled between you both again. This happened a lot. Two people who were known for their smart mouths, for some reason when you were together, there wasn’t always a need to speak. 

“I got cotton mouth like a bitch,” he said with a dazed look on his face. You chuckled, dropping his hand and pushed yourself up off the concrete. Eddie followed, you both heading inside to get something to drink. Pouring glasses of ice cold black cherry Kool Aid, Eddie chugged his down quickly and slammed the cup down on the counter, signaling for a refill. He had stains on either side of his lips already from the dark red drink. “Have I mentioned that you have the dietary habits of a 12 year old?” He taunted. You stuck your tongue out at him before taking a long drink of your own, and he continued with, “but I do too, so that’s alright.” 

“Can you imagine us in 10 years, almost 30 and still eating frozen waffles and dry cereal by the handful?” You giggled out. “I would eat dry cereal with you for the rest of my life, honestly,” Eddie said like the idea was truly the dream of a lifetime. “I’d eat dry cereal with you, too.” 

Romantic and suave, weren’t you? The exchange felt like a confession of sorts. Awkward again, you glanced towards the living room and asked Eddie if he wanted to play your Nintendo. He agreed and you both spent the next few hours playing and dying and playing and dying on repeat. Talking shit to each other. Laughing. Sometimes a lot. Sometimes not at all. At half past nine, you started to yawn. Eddie took this as signal to leave and stood up, stretching his arms out to release the tension he’d developed from being hunched over on the couch. 

His stomach peaked through the bottom of his shirt, a glance at his smooth skin and trail of hair made you stare even if you knew you should probably avert your gaze. “Well,” he said loudly, bringing his hands down placing them on his hips. “I guess I better get going.”

You frowned whole heartedly. “I thought you…were going to stay.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened for a moment, and he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Oh shit, I didn’t know you were serious.” 

“Oh.” You said softly, glancing down at your lap. “Ok, yea. It’s fine.” You stood up to help usher him to the front door. 

“No,” he protested. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” he trailed off. 

You stood there frozen, urging him with your eyes to finish his sentence. 

“I just didn’t know if you were sincere about it.”

“Eddie, when have I ever not been sincere?” you asked him earnestly. “I’d probably sleep better than I have in weeks if you’re here to, ya know, be the first line of defense against things that go bump in the night.”

He laughed a little. “I see. So, I am the sacrifice. The distraction so you can make an escape?” 

“Right, right. Glad we are on the same page.” 

You headed off down the small hallway and came back toting a pillow and blanket, to see Eddie stripping himself of his shoes and taking his long chain wallet off and placing it on the coffee table. 

“You can take off your pants,” you offered. He gasped and placed a hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion. “You think I’m that easy?” 

Eyes rolling, you tossed the pillow onto the couch behind him. “No. You’re not easy at all.” You muttered, stopping next to him and looking up. You reached to the back of his head and hooked your finger under the hair tie that held his messy hair back in the ponytail he had fashioned hours ago in detention. Slowly you pulled it towards you, freeing his unruly mane. “Not good to sleep with your hair up,” you explained. “Causes breakage.”

Loosening the hair with his fingers, he shook his head. “Can have that, my hair is what draws the babes my way.” For the second time in a 60 second period you rolled your eyes. “Oh yea. Same with me.” You said, tossing your own hair side to side to match his energy. 

He leaned forward then and delicately, just the way you had done to his knuckle, placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “Goodnight,” he whispered against you. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You whispered back and then you were gone, walking to your bedroom and turning lights off along the way. 

You crawled into bed and melted there, so tired and heavy from the way the high had worn off. You felt safer than you had since God knows when, just knowing Eddie was in the living room.  You drifted off quickly, thinking of the subtle romantic gestures that had taken place between the two of you tonight. A slow smile spread on your face and before you knew it, morning came. Sunlight pouring in your window woke you. 

Eddie was gone. Blanket folded neatly and sitting on top of the pillow. You were sad in unexpected ways to see the couch empty. You settled in the spot where you assumed he had been, the pillow smelling like him. Oh man, you thought. This is….

Your thoughts trailed off. Afraid to finish the thought. Afraid to admit anything even to yourself. 

****

“Morning, sunshine!” Eddie bellowed from behind you, making you jump slightly. You hadn’t seen him coming, face buried in your locker. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Good,” you answered honestly. “Really good.” 

“I know. Trick question. See, I went to wake you up and tell you I was leaving but you were literally snoring and drooling so…”

You turned RED at the thought of Eddie standing next to your bed watching you sleep. “I do NOT snore,” you insisted. “Uh, yea. You do.” He insisted right back. 

“But it was like, not foghorn quality - don’t worry. It was like a cute baby bear.” He continued as you both walked down the hall towards first period. 

“A baby bear?” You toyed with the idea, trying to decide if the mental image was embarrassing or endearing. “That weed knocked me on my ass. Plus, I knew I was safe. With you being there, and all.” 

Eddie stood next to your desk as you sat down. He leaned over the desk, arms on either side, the weight of his own body causing his muscles to flex. “Would you like me to stay with you more often?” 

You gulped. “FUCK YES”your brain screamed, but instead you just coyly smiled and said “Sure, wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

“Settled then, I’ll swing home and grab some clothes and meet you at your place later tonight. I’m gonna bring a surprise.” 

And he was gone, the back of his blue jean vest and a giant DIO patch replacing his face in your line of sight  as he made his way to his own desk. You had no earthly idea what he could mean by that. A surprise. 

The day was long,  longer than a school day usually felt. As you biked yourself the few miles home, you found yourself excited in a strange and new way about Eddie coming over. Your stomach felt heavy, jittery. You zoned out, on auto pilot as you peddled the street your house was one. “Get it together,” you told yourself. 

Inside you washed up the few dishes from your spaghettio feast and tidied up a few bits and bobs. You went into your bedroom to change out of your school clothes, and decided on a pair of pajama shorts and matching tank top. Your mom had given you this set for your 18th birthday a couple months prior, and as you looked in the mirror at how the fabric hugged your curves, you were thanking her silently in your mind. 

Suddenly you felt self conscious, looking at yourself in the mirror. You never looked at yourself too much. You weren’t overly concerned with appearance. You were pretty enough. But something about Eddie made you want to be prettier. You headed to your moms bedroom with determination, rifling through her makeup. Smearing some blush and running the mascara through your eyelashes. A little lipstick. Satisfied with the job you’d done, you walked through the house glancing at the clock. Eddie should show up soon. 

As if in sync with your thoughts, you heard the rumble of his old van mixed with loud muffled music. The music stopped and you heard his door slam. 

He knocked twice, and you pulled the door open. He had a big smile, which dropped when he saw you. “What’s, uh….what’s on your face?” 

“What the fuck do you mean?” You said, instantly angry and embarrassed.

He held his hand up and gestured towards your face. “What’s all this?” 

“It’s makeup, Eddie. Jesus Christ.” You moved to the side to let him in, feeling stupid. 

“No, I, uh, I get that. Just weird to see you with it on.” He said the words like he was truly uncomfortable and it did NOT help. 

“I just got bored waiting for you,” you explained falsely, “ya know, playing in my moms makeup.” 

You both chuckled awkwardly as Eddie dropped his bag on the floor next to the couch and you shut the door behind him. You noticed he was holding something behind his back, and you welcomed the change of subject by inquiring as to what it was. 

“It’s the surprise!” He said excitedly. From behind his back he pulled the biggest bong you’d ever seen in your life. 

Your eyes widened, “Eddie, are you joking?” 

“What? Don’t think you can handle it?” 

“I absolutely do NOT think I can handle it!” You squeaked out. “Are you trying to kill me?” 

He laughed and set the beast of a piece down on the coffee table. It was at least 3 feet tall. “I’ll be here to help,” he said as if his presence would somehow change things. “C’mon,” he sauntered towards you, arms out, “don’t be a chicken!” He folded his arms up against himself, and began BAWK BAWK BAWKING at you loudly. 

“Oh my god,” you faked annoyance when really you wanted to tell him he was the most handsome chicken you’d ever seen, crossing your arms over your chest. It made your cleavage pop out over the top of the tank top and you noticed that Eddie noticed and he looked away quickly when he saw you catch on.

“I’m not a chicken, I just don’t want my mom to come home and find me dead on the floor because my lungs collapsed. How would you explain that?” 

“I would most definitely grab your body and run.”

“What would you do with my corpse?”

“Bury you somewhere nice. Pretty. Under a tree.”

“I’d haunt your ass.”

“I hope so.”

Silence again. Silence which usually never bothered you felt tense today. Not in a bad way, in an exciting way. You wondered to yourself if he felt the same.

“Anyway, I brought some of my new supply. It’s really good. All over body high. Makes you feel heavy and couch locked. Your favorite!”

He was right. You loved body highs over head highs because of the intense relaxation it gave you. Noodles for arms and legs. Heavy eye lids. Slowed breathing. It was like being half asleep and half away. “Thoughtful.” You teased taking a seat on the couch. 

“That’s me. Thoughtful.”

He joked, but he was. He was more thoughtful than he gave himself credit for. 

You watched as he broke down the weed and packed a big bowl. Nervous and anxious for more than one reason. But excited to try it. 

“You ready for this?”

He picked up the massive glass bong and brought it to rest between you both on the couch. It was intimidating, to say the least. 

“Will you help me light it?” You asked, sitting upright with your legs crossed. “Course,” he assured and positioned the lighter at the ready.

“It’s gonna be a lot. Just keep pulling until I take the bowl out.” You nodded to indicate you understood him and positioned your lips inside the wide mouthpiece. 

Eddie flicked the lighter, flame to weed and you began to inhale steadily. The long neck of the bong filled slowly with cloudy and thick smoke, your eyes widened as you watched, Eddie’s did too. 

“Keep going,” he encouraged. 

You did. Pulling until your lungs couldn’t anymore. You tapped at his hand in desperation to make him stop and he did, yanking the stem and bowl out of the whole and releasing the suction. All at once, the giant cloud of smoke cleared from inside of the piece and rushed into your lungs. You inhaled and it was like fire. Burning. You immediately felt your eyes begin to water. “Hell yeah!”  Eddie cheered with enthusiasm. 

Within seconds you choked and coughed out a cloud of smoke bigger than anything you’d ever inhaled. You coughed so hard you thought you’d hack up an entire lung. Your chest was tight. Your throat was burning. Your vision literally blurred. Eddie leaned forward to pat you gruffly on the back, and you gasped out “Water – I need water.” 

He jumped up and disappeared to the kitchen as you continued to choke, the smoke had completely stolen your oxygen. Sticking a cup of water in your face, you grabbed it and chugged for several seconds. 

“I’m dying” you gasped out. Eddie was laughing at you, but not in a mocking way. “Damn, girl. I am impressed!” He bellowed out. You looked up at him through the haze filled room and he reached down with one of his rough hands and wiped the tears that were streaming down your cheek. “Messed up your make up though,” he said, showing you his thumb which had black mascara smeared on it. 

“Oh god,” you groaned out, leaning back against the couch. “I’m dying.” You repeated. 

“You’re not dying.”

“I am. I am dying.” You ran your hand over your face, pushing your hair out of your face.  You still couldn’t breathe right and you felt hot all over. 

“That was some of the….hottest shit I’ve ever seen in my life.” Eddie said, not taking his eyes off your heaving chest. 

“Seriously?” You spat at him. 

“What?,” he asked innocently. 

“Don’t be shy now, Munson. Are you being serious?” 

He bites his lower lip a little before saying “yea” and you immediately cracked up. 

“What? What?!” He asks. “What’s so funny?”

“How in the hell,” you say through your laughter,” “can you possibly think me coughing to the point of tears and drool is hot?” 

Eddie threw his hands up in defense. “I don’t know! It just is! Geez!” He was laughing, too now. 

“I have smeared make up all over my face! I’m covered in sweat!” You started feeling yourself getting even more worked up than you already were. 

“I look like shit and, and, and” you stuttered as a sudden wave of emotion came over you, “and  all I wanted was to – to – god, fuck!” you swore as you felt your eyes well with tears. 

Eddie immediately stopped laughing. 

You hung your head down and hid it with your hands. You could NOT believe you were crying. What the fuck was in this weed? 

“Hey, hey, hey” he called gently as he scooted over to you. He threw his arm around your shoulders and shook you a little. “What did I do? I’m sorry!” He apologized for no reason. 

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled out through your hands. 

“Talk to me.” Eddie encouraged. 

“I just, I dunno….” You said lifting your face, eyes meeting his. “I just wanted to look pretty for you and you made fun of me and now I look like a sweaty prostitute!” 

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “For…me?” He asked.

“What?”

“You said… you said you wanted to look pretty for ME?” 

You chewed at the inside of your lip. “Well, yea!” You blurred out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of have a crush on you!” You felt bold now. 

“ME?” Eddie asked again, his eyebrows furrowed and his face showing genuine confusion. 

“Yes, you absolute shithead! On you! I have a big fat fucking crush on YOU! And I put on this make up and this tight ass tank top to show off my tits and got all nervous at the idea of you coming over and I’m a fucking idiot!” You continued yelling, getting up from the couch now to pace back and forth. 

“I know it’s weird and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cross any lines. I just thought, fuck I don’t know what. I thought maybe you would feel the same! I’m so stupid!” You were pacing back and forth between the couch and the coffee table and Eddie was just staring at you with, for once in his life, a completely blank expression.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You whacked yourself with the base of your palm right on the forehead with each word. “Now I’ve probably completely ruined our friendship. You are the only friend I have to be honest, and things will be weird and GOD I just want to crawl in a hole!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist and yanked at you to try to stop you from pacing, but you wriggled free. “Just go, Eddie. Please. I’m so embarrassed.”

You stormed off to your bedroom, slamming the door behind you and flinging yourself onto the bed. 

Burying your face in the blankets, you screamed into the mattress and kicked your feet. A tantrum. A true tantrum. Bringing your face up to get some air, you felt tears stinging your eyes again. 

What was wrong with you? You’d never felt this way before. Frustrated and angry with yourself, but also sad. You cared for Eddie in a way that you hadn’t even realized until just now. The feelings had bubbled up so suddenly. You wished more than anything you could turn back time and take it all back. You had just made a total fool of yourself and there was no way to un-do it. The realization that you had, in one moment, killed your friendship AND ruined your chances at more, was almost too much to bear. You felt your heart breaking. It had to be breaking. This hurt more than anything else ever had. 

You heard the sound of Eddie’s van crank up outside and your tears poured faster. You told him to leave, but halfway didn’t believe he would. The sound of the old vans motor faded and he was gone. 

You were left alone in the silence. Only the sound of your own sniffles and the hum of the air conditioning keeping you company until your sadness exhausted you to the point of unconsciousness. 

Authors Note: I do not give permission for my work to be copied and reposted on any platform, even with credit. If you’d like to share please reblog and/or use the original link.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Over The Odds | Ruthless

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, fluff, S2L, ceo!jungkook, sugardaddy!jungkook

Word count - 1.8k

Drabble 14 - Jungkook finally meets your sister - jk pov

warnings: swearing

FULL SERIES COLLECTION

“The new employees are here,” Hoseok, Jungkook's assistant, opens the glass door to Jungkook’s office – it’s Monday morning and the first day of Jeon Industries plan to expand and broaden their horizons.

“I’ll be there soon, what room are you guys in?” Jungkook’s in the midst of sending emails, he peels his gaze away from the screen just enough to see his assistant of three years standing in the doorway wearing brown slacks and a cream shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his slender veiny arms.

“Conference room two.” He nods, “You coming?”

“Give me five minutes.” He holds up his tattooed hand, and Hoseok leaves.

If there’s one thing Jungkook is particularly dreading today it’s meeting your sister Ruth, so far he’s heard nothing but bad things about her character. Her resume is absolutely spectacular though, much to his disappointment. She’s well educated, has tonnes of relevant work experience, fantastic references from well-respected people – truth be told she’s an employer’s wet dream. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve extensively complained to him about how much of a bitch she is he'd probably be looking forward to meeting her, he has to remind himself to remain professional and keep an open mind regardless.

The door to conference room two displays his reflection, thankfully he’s looking refreshed and ready for the week ahead – which he is, he spent his entire weekend cosying up with you beneath the twinkling tipi and he feels great for it. He’s wearing a three piece grey suit, his hair is styled back exposing his thick brows and forehead, his tan skin is almost glowing and for the first time in weeks there’s not one trace of a single eye bag.

“Morning everyone,” He nods, glancing round at the sixteen new faces sitting around the long black table as he enters the room, “I’m Jungkook, the CEO and founder of Jeon Industries. It’s nice to meet you all.”

He asks that everybody go round the table and introduce themselves with their name and their proudest achievement, it’s the only exercise he actually makes an effort to sit in for whenever a group of new employees start. Mainly because he can tell a lot about a person’s character based on their response. There’s the people who want to impress him and start reeling off their academic credentials as though he hasn’t already read them on their resume. There’s the people that say ‘oh I don’t know I’m proud of all my achievements’ and can’t give him a straight answer. And then there’s his favourite type of people, the honest ones, who give genuine answers that aren’t relevant to the business like ‘passing my driving test first time’ or, ‘giving birth to my daughter’. Those are the employees that tend to do well within the company, escalating to larger, better-paid roles a lot quicker than the others. Jungkook appreciates honesty, and first impressions mean a hell of a lot to him.

The new faces do as he asks, as they were hired to do, and one by one give their answers to his question. He’s listening so intently that he almost forgets all about your sister, until she’s the next person to open her mouth.

“Hello everyone I’m Ruth,” She smiles brightly, and for a second Jungkook has to blink twice to make sure he’s seeing this properly. For lack of better words, she looks pretty much exactly fucking like you. He can tell she’s older around the eyes, her skin doesn’t glow quite the same way yours does but aside from small, insignificant differences here and there she’s your double. Her hair is shorter, her shoulders are little broader, he’s decided that despite what you’ve told him she’s not prettier but she is an attractive woman, and her presence is overbearing as he can already tell she loves attention, pausing until everybody in the room is looking at her.

“And my biggest achievement is being able to maintain such a close relationship with my family. It’s hard work sometimes,” She laughs, somewhat cockily, “But I’m very proud of the fact we’re all so close, after all family is the most important thing in the world. Achievements are worthless if you have nobody to share them with.”

Wow. He’s kind of impressed. And also confused, from what you’ve said to him she rarely checks in with the rest of your family – and he knows for a fact that the two of you aren’t exactly close. Remaining professional he listens to the other answers given, he’s made a mental note of the four people who gave genuine, memorable achievements but unfortunately for you your sister is one of them.

If only you’d let him fire her upon arrival like he offered to do when he initially found out she’d be working for him, but of course you being the kind-hearted soul you are said that would be unfair, and now she’s sitting in front of him hanging onto his every word.

“Thank you everyone, once you’ve completed training my assistant Hoseok and I will appoint you with your new roles depending on experience and credentials and how well you do over the next six weeks. Your contracts are in front of you if you wanna give them a read and hand them to Hoseok once you’ve signed them, he’ll be your go to man for throughout training. Welcome to Jeon Industries.”

“Thanks Jungkook.” Hoseok bares his white teeth in a glorious grin and Jungkook stands, exiting the room without another word.

It’s when he’s back in his office, sending some important documents to the printer that a loud knock on his door startles him, he’s not expecting anyone for the rest of the day. “Come in?” He shouts, unsure of who's there.

“Hello,” He glances in the direction of the soft voice, his stomach dropping at the sight of your sister already sitting down opposite him without permission, “I figured I should introduce myself to you properly while I’ve got a minute, you are my sister’s boyfriend after all.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ruth,” Jungkook locks his computer screen, giving her his undivided attention in an attempt not to come off as rude. “Officially.”

“I’m just going to get straight to the point…” Her smile immediately drops, the nice girl façade shattering right in front of his eyes, “I want to work in your finance department, I have all the qualifications and I think I would be an asset to your accounts team.”

“Oh?” He bites back a laugh, he didn’t know what he expected from the infamous Ruth but it certainly wasn’t this. “Well we can definitely look into that once you’ve completed training with Hoseok—”

“Is training really necessary? I know what I’m doing.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, frowning at him. You were right, your sister is fucking unbelievable.

“It is, company policy.” He rids himself of any trace of emotion, staring at her with a serious expression while leaning back in his leather office chair.

“Right, but you’re dating my sister—”

“You won’t be treated any differently to my other staff.” He warns her, shaking his head. It’s not very often he has to show his power, usually he treats the employees as his equals because he respects them and the work they do for him. But some people every now and then, need reminding of who he is. “My relationship with Y/N is irrelevant.”

Ruth doesn’t appear to like this, she chuckles darkly to herself before bending forward, “You really want to explain to my father, to Y/N’s sick father, that you wouldn’t put me on the department I applied for? That I moved back into their house for nothing? I wonder how that conversation would go…”

“Are you threatening me?” He’s half-frowning, half-smiling, amused by the whole situation. Who in all fuckery does this girl think she is, does she even know who she’s speaking to?

“I know what I’m doing Jungkook, I’m smart, I’m ambitious, and I want to be on your accounts team.”

“Like I said, we’ll review it once you’re done training.” He sympathises with you completely, he can only imagine what she’s like behind closed doors if she behaves this day at work, on her first day none the less. To this she doesn’t respond, and so he unlocks his computer screen to finish what he was doing when she first arrived.

“And what if I refuse to do the training?”

“There’s the door,” Jungkook points an inked finger to the glass entrance not bothering to look at Ruth, locking his computer once again before finally settling his eyes on her shocked face.

“If you’re not willing to learn here there’s really no point you staying, Hoseok prepares the best training material to ensure all employees are capable of doing other roles within the company to cover things like sick days, maternity leave and so on. You might be my girlfriend’s sister but this is my business, I’ve worked hard to be sat at this side of the desk and if you don’t want to follow the policies that I’ve put in place, feel free to leave.”

“…I was kidding, obviously.” She rolls her eyes but deep down she's panicking, he can tell, resorting to batting her eyelashes at him as though it’ll change his perception of her, “Of course I’ll do the training, but I would really like it if my interest in the finance department can be taken note of.”

“Of course,” He feigns a smile, the only reason he hasn’t fired her where she sits is because he knows deep down she would be an asset to his company, and she’s also right – he doesn’t want to have an awkward conversation with your dad if he can avoid it, giving he's yet to meet the man, “Was there anything else?”

“Just one other thing,” She stands, resting her small palms on his desk to lean over him, “If you ever, and I mean ever hurt Y/N… More than you already have,” She scoffs, inching down further until Jungkook’s uncomfortably sitting back to avoid being so close to her face, “I’ll tear you and this entire fucking company down, until I’m the one sitting at that side of the desk.”

x

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT PHILLY

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-

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

-

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife’s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

-

[bluesfortheredj]

I'm home. Pt. 2

A/N: part 2 to this. Smut ahead.

Tom reaches out blindly for your body as he feels the covers shuffling around next to him and when his fingers land on your bare thigh he smiles to himself at the contact, “don’t go,” he mumbles still half asleep with his eyes closed.

“I need to pee,” you chuckle quietly, “and you’ve got work to do.”

He opens one eye to watch his hand move up underneath the t-shirt of his you were wearing and grins giddily as he grazes your breasts, “five more minutes,” he whines.

His head lifts from the pillow temporarily so he can get a better view of you and your gaze is fixed on the curls that bounce to life from being squashed against the cotton all night; he was at his most irresistible when he was like this, all sleepy and clingy as if not touching you would be the end of the world. You lift your hand to sweep your fingers through his soft hair and settle back down next to him as his arm wraps around to your back to hold you close.

“(Y/N)?” Tom questions quietly as he squints into the sunlight that now illuminated your figure.

“Yeah?”

“How many kids do you think we’ll have?”

“Two.”

“One of each?”

“Hmm… knowing my luck it’ll be two boys and I’ll spend my weekends having to watch them play football.”

Tom grins as he closes his eyes again, “two boys,” he muses.

It doesn’t take long for either of you to fall back asleep now you were huddled together once more, and the next thing you know you’re being woken by the sound of the door to the caravan being pushed open with force.

“Tom! Tom, come on, you’re late!” a voice calls out.

The figure that this voice came from now stands in the doorway to the bedroom looking at you both as you blink awake again, and you slip further beneath the covers as you notice him staring right at you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asks, briefly looking over at Tom who is now shimmying his boxers up his legs underneath the duvet.

“Get out!” Tom replies, “out! Now!”

The man rolls his eyes, “just hurry up. I’m sure your girlfriend can survive a couple of hours without you,” and with that he turns on his heels and exits the place, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Who was that?”

“Denis,” he mutters in reply as he swings his body out from under the covers and stands up with a groan as he stretches his tired limbs, “he’s a prick.”

“Yeah… definitely got that vibe from him.”

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Tom thinks aloud as he begins to dress hurriedly.

“And…?” you encourage him to get whatever he was thinking off of his chest.

“And you’re mine,” he states with a shrug, “all mine.”

“That I am,” you grin, pushing the duvet away and crawling over to his side of the bed, “I am forever yours babe.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grins, moving close enough to cuddle you, “now what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Not sure,” you sigh, “might get myself off as I replay last night’s event in my head, or I might bury my face in your pillow as I rub up against mine to pretend you’re here making love to me.”

Tom leans back with a wicked glint in his eye and bites down on his lower lip before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, “you are officially banned from touching yourself unless I’m here,” he instructs.

“But how will you know if I stick to that rule?”

“Oh, I’ll know baby, trust me. No touching, okay?”

His deep brown eyes bore into yours as he awaits confirmation that you’ll do as you’re told, and you silently nod in response even though you’re already feeling a tingling sensation where you shouldn’t, “okay,” you reply meekly.

“Right, I’ll only be a couple of hours then we can resume our plans once more,” he smiles, kissing your nose then the corners of your mouth tenderly, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you grin, flopping back on the bed with a sigh.

He reluctantly leaves and you’re left feeling as though you were back in your last year of secondary school again; the butterflies that swirl around your stomach still as strong now as they were back then when Tom had first asked you to be his girlfriend. He was your first everything, as you were for him, and even though you’d been together for so many years now it still felt so fresh and new which was a testament to how strongly you felt for one another.

Denis is waiting for Tom at the repair shop, standing there as if he was his boss and tapping his watch to let him know he was late.

“Yeah, I get it, I’m here now,” Tom retorts to his action.

“So that’s (Y/N), huh?”

“Yep.”

“She’s fit.”

Tom picks up a hammer and twirls it in his hand before placing it down carefully yet keeping his palm over the handle, “yeah… yeah, she is.”

“How the hell did you convince her to date you then?”

Stony silence is the only response Denis gets to that question.

“I mean if you can persuade her to have sex with you then I’m definitely in with a chance, right?” he provokes, “and being as you’re stuck here working I might go pay her a visit. Do you think she’ll still be half naked under those covers?”

“I swear to god, if you-” Tom starts, spinning around to face Denis with hammer in hand.

“Surprise!” you announce, quickly entering the garage after hearing every word of their conversation and walking straight past Denis as if he wasn’t even there, “I’m here to help, what do you want me to do?”

You place a loving hand on Tom’s arm then slide it down to where he holds the tool so you can gently slip it from his fingers as you stare up into his eyes with a reassuring smile, and eventually the corners of his mouth turn up to mirror your expression before he looks over to Denis who makes a hasty exit.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, pressing your hand on his chest to help calm him.

He nods slowly, “I am now you’re here.”

“Is he always that vile?”

Tom’s face falls as he realises you must have heard every word Denis had said and he places a hand on your cheek as his gaze moves between your eyes, “I’m sorry you heard that baby.”

You shake your head from side to side, “I’m sorry he was being such a dickhead to you. You know you’re the only one for me, right? I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” he smiles, “but…”

You gasp, “but what?!” you panic.

A familiar smirk makes its way across his perfect lips and you suddenly realise what’s coming next, “but I think we need to make sure everyone knows you’re off limits.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

Without saying a word he walks you back to the bench in the middle of the room, pulls down the joggers you’re wearing and you perch your bare cheeks on the edge of the wood as he scrambles to hook himself out of his jeans. He looks up at you as he holds himself in his hand ready, then you nod and he slides into your core as he attaches his mouth to your neck and begins to kiss and nip at your skin. His hips thrust forcefully into you as you wrap your legs around him, and the bench shakes so violently that various bolts and screws end up falling to the floor which go completely unnoticed by the two of you thanks to the echoes of pleasure filling the room. His deep guttural groans contrast with your long, soft whines, and if anyone were to pass by outside they’d be sure to hear what’s going on.

Your fingers dig into Tom’s clothing, gripping on for dear life as his hardened length grazes your rough inner wall over and over again with a stomach knotting sensation that leaves you craving an increase in pace.

“Faster, please Tom,” you beg, your breath ghosting over the skin of his neck as he lavishes attention on yours.

He does as you plead and you cry out his name in response as his teeth sink into your skin before moving along to your shoulder and nibbling their way along to your bra strap, moving it over and letting it fall down your arm. He’s close to release while you continue to pant and moan as the bench rattles and scrapes on the floor thanks to his vigorous thrusts, and with one last long exhale of his name your orgasms erupt in perfect synchronicity; the two of you clinging to one another for stability as your bodies turn weak once they’ve ridden out the last waves of pleasure.

“I’m pretty sure everyone in the caravan park heard that,” Tom chuckles as he tucks himself away and helps you stand on your unsteady legs.

“Then I think that’s what they call ‘mission accomplished’, right?”

Tom grins so widely that every laughter line is on show, then he kisses your lips as he cups your face tenderly, “I should think so,” he winks.