#and it was actually will who asked el if shes okay hmm

[beaulesbian]

Everyone’s here.

[skalfy]

A Reputation for Good Taste

Misa x Reader, ~3.5k words, part 2/?

Part 1 here

Another part! Again, deeply unproofread, so apologies for any errors.

“I’m sorry, what??” Your friend made a show of rolling over to look directly at you where you lay, bundled in her bed. “You’re telling me that Alma cheated on you, then you drove her mistress home and somehow ended up seducing her into giving you free tickets to a football match? Actually, I’m not surprised about the Alma thing, sorry, but the rest is beyond me.”

“Maya!” You blushed hard. “None of that is what I said! Well, except for the Alma thing. I did not seduce María, and please don’t call her Alma’s mistress. All I did was drive her home and probably make her uncomfortable by crying about how I’m a bad aunt. She definitely only offered the tickets because she feels bad that my girlfriend cheated on me with her. It was so obvious that she thought she needed to do something to apologise.”

“If all she felt was guilty about Alma I hardly think she would go to the lengths she did, but out of courtesy to your broken heart,” she fixed you with a look, “I won’t argue about this right now.”

“Thank you, Maya.” You mumbled, then, “I don’t even know if my heart is broken. I’m angry at Alma for doing something so stupid to both of us, but it’s really been getting worse for a while, hasn’t it?”

“Oh honey, it has, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She lifted the covers between you. “Now come here and let me cuddle you.”

You rolled over and let her pull you against her chest, relaxing into the comfort of your friend’s arms.

“I think my heart broke a while ago, but I really wish we would talked instead of this.” She just squeezed you tighter and you drifted to sleep.

--

You awoke the next morning alone in Maya’s bed, the sounds of her in the kitchen with Marc, her boyfriend, faintly audible from through the closed door. Your first thought was about Alma, and whether she had bothered to say anything to you since you left the flat. You quickly found your phone and unlocked it, opening the messages app. At the top there was an unread message, but it wasn’t from Alma. You tapped it open anyway.

María: Hi, good morning! I hope you are feeling okay and that your friend is taking care of you. I talked to the club and the tickets will be no problem and no cost. I’ll give you the details later :)

María: Do you have a jersey for the game?

Maria: It’s El Clásico, you have to wear one.

You felt a blush rise as you read the first message. It was sweet, but you were also a little embarrassed to think that María knew you needed taking care of. You quickly typed out a reply.

Me: Thank you so much, you have saved my aunt reputation and Luisa’s trip! And I am okay, thank you for asking. Between my old friend and a certain new friend who has gone out of her way to do me a big favor I’m feeling better.

You wrote and deleted the last line several times before hitting send, unsure how María would take it. You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the little dots that showed she was typing popped up after just a few seconds.

María: I think your new friend would be very glad to hear that, and glad to hear she is your friend, even if the circumstances you met in were not ideal.

María: You didn’t answer my question, do you have a jersey?

There was no resisting the grin that spread on your face as you read her message.

Me: Luisa definitely has a jersey, I got her one for Christmas.

María: I didn’t ask if Luisa had one, I asked if you did ;)

Me: Hmm, I think I have an old Barça one lying around somewhere.

You figured if she worked for worked for Real Madrid she must have a healthy animosity for the rival club, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun about it.

María: We will discuss that later, but I might let it slide if it’s an Alexia kit. Sounds like you are in need of something to wear on Saturday. Green or white?

Me: Green?

María: Yes, it will bring out your eyes. Good choice!

María: Meet me for coffee? I will give you the jersey. Before you ask, it doesn’t cost me, I promise :)

Your head was spinning, but somehow you didn’t really mind. You weren’t about to turn down the offer for coffee, if for no other reason than to buy María acoffee as a thank you.

Me: I’d love to. Let me know when and where, I am off work today so anytime works.

She sent a link to a cute looking coffee shop and said to meet her there at 3 before signing off to get back to some work. You were still giving your phone a bewildered smile when Maya opened the door to her room to check in on you.

“My god, please don’t tell me Alma has sent you some ridiculous make up text that has you falling back under her spell!” You looked up at her words, startled and confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the lovesick smile you were just giving your phone when I walked in.” You scoffed in response to Maya’s words, but still felt a sudden urge to keep your conversation with María to yourself until you had a better idea of what was going on.

“I’m just smiling at the death march sightseeing tour mum has the family on today. I was planning to meet up with them, but the play by play is equal parts funny and frightening.” It wasn’t really a lie, you knew your mother well enough to know that your prediction was probably true, and you really were going to meet up with them. It just wasn’t exactly what had you smiling, or the afternoon plan you were most looking forward to.

Maya looked like she might say something more, but a particularly loud clang from the kitchen had her hurrying quickly back out. Alone again, you decided it was long time to get yourself ready for the day.

--

Dressed and showered, you caught Maya and Marc as both were headed out the door to work. Maya had instructed you to be back for dinner with the two of them, but otherwise you had free reign and your spare key. Sipping the cup of coffee one of them had left on the counter for you, you pulled out your phone and called your mum.

A short itinerary run-down later, you had plans to meet up outside their hotel and a half day of sightseeing between you and your unexpected coffee plans. That left only one other call to make, and it was one you didn’t want hanging over your head any longer. You dialed the number and listened as it rang through three times before you heard the other end pick up. When she didn’t say anything, you spoke first.

“Alma.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She answered, the guilt unmistakeable in her voice.

“I’m sorry, too.” You sighed. “It was a shitty thing to do, though. I didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t.”

“Did you want me to see? You had to have known I wouldn’t be out that late.” You couldn’t help but ask. Her silence was all the answer you needed. “Okay. I’ll stay at Maya’s another night, but can you have your things out after that?” Thankfully, she had moved in with you only a few months back when her lease ended. Almost everything was yours, and you wouldn’t have the added insult of losing your flat along with your girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’ll pack everything today. I really am sorry.” You could hear her holding back tears, and you were struck by a pang of affection and sympathy for her. As cruel as cheating on you was, the last few months had been hard for both of you, and falling out of love with her first hadn’t been particularly kind either.

“Thank you, Alma. I hope things work out for you.”

“You too. I’ll miss you.” She ended the call, and you felt the weight on your chest ease.

--

It had been a long morning with your family, but you were immensely happy to have spent the time with them. Mum’s heavy-handed tourguiding made everyone laugh, but she had done her research well, and you were glad for it. Even after living in Madrid for three years, you still hadn’t taken the time to see all the sights. Plus, everything was more enjoyable with Luisa dragging you along to point out the best bits. You walked double the steps, but it was worth it to be honored as the most interesting adult, and you loved any opportunity to hear more about what her latest activities and interests were.

Having arrived a few minutes early to the coffee shop, you were lost in reflection on your family’s antics when the light touch of a hand on your elbow pulled you into the present. You jumped a little at the contact, and felt the hand grip a little tighter to steady you. It only took you a moment to look up and catch the owner’s warm brown eyes. As soon as you recognized her, María tugged you forward gently into a hug, and you sunk into the contact.

“Hi.” She said, releasing you to arm’s length.

“Hi, how are you?” You responded a little breathlessly as her hands finally fell away from your arms.

“Better now.” She answered you with a smile. “Have you been here before?” You shook your head no, returning her smile. “Good. It’s my favorite and I’m glad I get to introduce you to it. Come!” She pulled the door open and gestured for you to step inside. Stepping through the entrance, you were hit immediately by the rich smell of coffee, and you paused to appreciate it. You looked over your shoulder as María entered behind you and spoke with joking reverence.

“I think I’m in love already.” She chuckled and nudged you ahead with her own shoulder.

“You haven’t even tried it yet, keep walking!”

The two of you approached the counter and greeted the barista. You inclined your head to María to order first, and after a moment’s hesitation, she requested a café con leche Before the barista could give her a total, you ordered your cortado, card already in hand to cover both. You turned to look at the woman next to you and she raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Any pastries you recommend?” You asked, still looking at her.

“Everything is good, but my favorite is probably the pear tart.” She answered, and you looked back to the barista.

“One of those too, please.” She nodded, then recited the total and let you hand her your card. After ringing you up, she retrieved your pastry and passed it over on a plate with two forks.

You followed María to a quiet corner with an empty table. She pulled out one chair before walking to the other side and sitting down.

“Can’t risk you dropping our tart.” She said with a wink when you gave her a look. You rolled your eyes, but still felt a blush as you set the plate down carefully and took your seat. Her fingertips quickly snagged the edge of the plate, sliding it to her side of the table. It didn’t exactly bother you, but with her earlier chivalry you weren’t expecting her to immediately lay claim to the shared treat. You watched as she industriously carved out a bite with one of the forks, clearly taking care to perfect the crust to filling ratio and center a perfect slice of pear on the wedge she cut. Her focus was charming, but your mouth was nearly watering waiting for your turn.

“You have to have the perfect first bite, my reputation for having good taste could be on the line here if you aren’t impressed.” She spoke as she finally lifted her fork, extending it toward you with a shy smile. There was a burst of warmth in your chest as you realized the care she had taken was for you, even if it was only to prove she made the best choice. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes, leaning forward slightly to meet her over the table. Her free hand was loosely cupped under the fork to catch any crumbs, and it brushed your chin gently as you closed your lips over the forkful of tart. You tilted your head back as María pulled the fork away, instinctively raising your own hand as well. The back of her hand was soft where your palm met it, and she let it rest against yours for a moment before pulling away. Her trailing fingers were far from your mind, however, as soon as you began to chew the bite of tart. The flavor was divine, sharp and sweet and fresh all at once, paired with a perfectly buttery-flaky-crisp crust. María let out a burst of laughter and a fist pump at the wide-eyed nod you gave her when she asked if her reputation was secure, which in turn had you covering your mouth as you tried to swallow through a growing smile.

A barista calling out your orders had María quickly standing, waving off your offer to help, and gave you a chance to sneak a second bite and collect your thoughts for a moment. You felt silly for being so charmed by María’s kindness, from her it seemed more like second nature. Her actions, while some were a little over the top, felt like they came from a combination of genuine thoughtfulness and her desire to make you laugh. It struck you after a second, you felt taken care of. Not in the big-gesture way that Alma always wanted you to exhibit, hinting at big gifts and dramatic arrivals at her office to sweep her away to Ibiza, but something much gentler. It was nice, you realized-- both to be taken care of and for the acts to be so unpretentious.

“For you,” a hand touched your shoulder and your cortado was placed in front of you, “and for me!” María set her own cup down and took her seat, smiling and waving her hand dismissively as you thanked her.

The conversation flowed once again between the two of you, and you enjoyed it even more than you had the previous evening in your car. You managed to draw out the tart, each taking smaller and smaller bites until finally María nudged the plate toward you and insisted you take the final piece. You brought out a chuckle from her by solemnly confessing that you’d taken an extra bite while she fetched the coffees, and she happily stole the plate back to finish it off herself. With the food out of the way, you were both focused on each other, and you felt the heat of her gaze as she listened carefully to everything you said.

You covered a wide variety of topics, learning about her family and friends, her love for music, and the meaning behind some of her tattoos. She didn’t speak much about her work, but you could tell she was driven and passionate. You shared plenty in return, her open interest in what you said and thoughtful questions leading you down plenty of tangents, including a retelling of your family’s antics that had you both laughing. The two of you were so engrossed in the conversation, that it wasn’t until your phone started ringing that you realized how much time had passed.

“It’s the friend I’m staying with, I better answer.” You told María, who gave you a thumbs up as you stood to move a few paces from the table before you answered. “Hi Maya.”

“Girl, where are you?” She asked, skipping over any greeting. You looked down at your watch and realized it was after six. Not time for dinner yet, but Maya was no doubt expecting you to be there when she returned from work. You caught María’s eyes on you and rolled your own dramatically at her as you replied.

“Sorry Mum, I’m out with a friend and we lost track of time. I’ll be back soon. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way?” You could very nearly hear Maya’s eyes narrowing on the other end of the line.

“What friend? I know all your friends, they’re my friends. Unless…” You winced as she trailed off, realizing you didn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of María. “You’re with Alma? Or Alma’s m—”

“Okay! We can talk about this later!” You cut her off firmly, feeling your face heat as you wondered how audible Maya’s voice was from your phone speaker. “Also,” you continued, thinking it might be best to clarify once and for all, “I ended things with Alma officially this morning, so safe to assume I’m not with her.” Maya’s honest-to-god cheer was a bit embarrassing, but you did feel a little like cheering yourself, so you chose not to mention it.

“I’ll expect all the details when you get here. Be safe until then, love you!”

“Love you too.” You ended the call, looking down at your phone a few moments longer than necessary before raising your head to look at María. She had an unreadable expression, but quirked an eyebrow at you when you met her eyes.

“Your friend seems very fun.” She said, then after a pause, “sorry to hear about Alma.” It felt like she was giving you the option to choose whether you wanted to talk about it, which you appreciated.

“I’m not really sorry,” you said, “it should have happened a long time ago.” María kept her gaze on you, not interjecting, face carefully neutral. It reminded you of when you first looked at her in your lobby. In a quieter voice, you continued. “I don’t wish it did, though.” María’s easy smile was familiar to you already, but her lips didn’t curve this time. You felt a strong urge to leave quickly, or even better, for the floor to open up beneath you. Closing your eyes, you heard the chair scrape as she stood. How predictably thoughtful of her to leave you to recover from your embarrassment. Just as you listened for her departing footsteps, you were caught off guard by two strong arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. Your eyes opened in surprise, but it didn’t take you long to squeeze just as tightly back, relief coursing through you. María’s face pressed into the side of your neck, and you felt her speak, but the words were too muffled to hear. The two of you held each other close a while longer, before she pulled back enough to look at you.

“This might be the strangest friendship I’ve had, but I’m so glad I met you.” She said, smiling softly. You returned her smile, and couldn’t resist saying,

“maybe Alma did both of us a favor in the end.” She gave your shoulders a squeeze in lieu of answering, but spoke after a moment.

“I had better send you back to your friend before she grounds you, I would hate for you to miss the game because you aren’t allowed to leave your room for a week.” It made you laugh, but the possibility is more likely than you’d like to admit. Maya had a greater chance of grounding you than your own mother did, in all honesty. It’s enough to spur you into action, and, after returning your dishes to the counter, the two of you made your way out of the cafe. You hugged one more time, then parted ways, but a shout of your name had you turning around before you made it to your car.

“I almost forgot to give you this!” María held out a folded piece of bright green fabric to you. “It’s the whole reason I dragged you out here after all.” You took it from her and unfolded it, quickly realizing it was a Real Madrid jersey, though not in the colors you were used to seeing.

“I thought you were joking when you said green!” She laughed in response to your confusion and explained that it was a goalkeeper’s jersey, hence the bright color.

“I brought a regular one as well if you prefer.” She added, sounding a little uncertain.

“No way, this is much better,” you held it up to your chest, “does it bring out my eyes like you said?” She leaned in a little closer, reaching out to lift the fabric up to your cheek.

“Absolutely.”

--

That evening after you returned to Maya’s and took a longer look at the jersey you sent María a text with a picture of the back of the jersey.

Me: This Misa better be good if I’m wearing her name on my back

María: Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you wear her name if she wasn’t

[dartlekey]

Up and down goes the small pink pill, bouncing across Eddie’s hand. He twists it between his fingers, bounces it across his knuckles - it glances off one of his many rings occasionally, but never drops, is always caught by a steady palm, and flicked back into rotation. Steve watches idly - the movement is mesmerizing, even more so because he’s a little high, relaxing on Eddie’s narrow bed as Eddie scribbles into a notebook. 

Whether the scribbles are song lyrics or campaign ideas Steve doesn’t know; he’s asked before, but Eddie wouldn’t tell. He’s been weirdly uptight all day, actually, more quiet than usual, but asked Steve to stay when he offered to fuck off if Eddie needed some space. (It’d make sense if Eddie needed space, really; they’ve been hanging out so much recently, but there’s something about each other’s company that makes both of them feel safe, and neither of them usually gets much of that, anymore.)

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Steve says, stubbing out the joint in Eddie’s bedside ashtray. “What kinda pill is that?”

Eddie doesn’t glance up, but Steve feels the weight of his attention shift as his fingers pinch the tablet to stillness, at least for the moment. “Estrogen,” he says, sounding contemplative. “The other kind of E.”

Steve frowns, because he’s a little faded, sure, but not high enough for Eddie to be this confusing. “Wait, isn’t that like, hormones? Thought you only sold drugs.”

“Yeah, this is just for me,” Eddie says, then shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Steve sits up, runs a hand through his hair - the kids like to joke about him having a “Mom-Sense” like Peter Parker has a “Spidey-Sense” (whoever the fuck that is), and they’re not wrong; he can always tell when someone is struggling with themselves. “Yeah?”

Eddie does look up at him, then. Doesn’t exactly look nervous, more… tired, if anything. 

“I think I’m a girl.”

Steve blinks, considers this. Doesn’t consider doubting Eddie, because that’d be fucking stupid - Eddie likes to act impulsive, but someone who can plan eleven-hour campaigns and still have four super-geniuses howling with shock and betrayal at the end of it? Someone like that doesn’t speak without thought. “How come?”

Eddie huffs out a long breath, spins around in the wobbly desk chair. “Wheeler Junior was being a sore loser, said I’m just like his sister. I know he was trying to piss me off, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought makes me fucking giddy.”

Steve nods a few times, plucks at a loose thread on Eddie’s comforter. “Huh. Yeah, kind of makes sense, actually.”

Eddie squints at him. “It does?”

Steve shrugs, a little embarrassed, but the weed has loosened his tongue enough to admit, “You’re pretty.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his - her (?) mouth. ”Boys can be pretty.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, girl-pretty. Don’t laugh, it’s a thing! It’s like - like, I can see a guy and go yeah, he’s good looking, and that’s it and I go about my day, but with girls there’s like this sense of awe? It’s like, wow, she’s pretty, can I get her to smile? I kinda wanna know what her hair smells like.”

Eddie stares at him incredulously, and Steve gives an annoyed huff, only just manages to restrain himself from overexplaining how last week he actually thought he was bi for a hot second, before he realized that apart from Eddie, guys still seem about as sexually alluring as housetrained rats.

Well, not apart from Eddie, now, because it turns out Eddie is a girl. Problem solved.

“So what do I call you now?”

“Hmm?”

“Like…” Steve waves his hand vaguely. “Do you want a new name? Or something?”

Eddie starts bouncing the pill across her fingers again. “No, Eddie is fine. It’s… neutral, I like that. But use girl words, I guess?”

Steve frowns. Maybe he is too high for this. “Like… babe? Sweetheart?”

Eddie barely manages to tamp down on a laugh. “Like she and her, dude. Like Eddie’s driving the other girls to Nancy’s because Robin doesn’t have a car and Max and El are underage. Five minutes as a girl and you already want to climb me like a tree, is that it?”

Steve blushes, lobs Eddie’s dog-eared copy of the Silmarillion at her, which she dodges expertly, cackling in that wild way that she has. Still Eddie. Still pretty. “Shut up, it’s not like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins, tugging her hair in front of her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

[grapesodatozier]

hmm. okay this is super incoherent but I’m thinking about how el loves romance movies with dramatic love confessions, and mike was raised by two parents who don’t love each other but pretend like they do, and I’m thinking about how that affects their love languages and communication styles and what they think love looks like.

because el has learned to see love as big, sweeping, clear statements of love, the word love itself. but mike has seen that you can call something love without that actually meaning anything, and so to him what love actually is is what you do for others, and that’s his love language. when he says, “I say it,” he says it so surely; it’s not a lie, mikes a bad liar. he does say it, just not with words like el does, like el has come to expect from the movies she watches.

which is also really interesting bc she shows love through action so much, but she doesn’t see herself as doing that, she sees it as what she has to do, when everything she does is a way of saying “I love you” without saying it.

mike doesn’t think she’s incredible bc of her powers, he thinks she’s incredible bc of what she does with them, and he has always been the first person to give that type of love right back to her. he is the first to protect her every season: to shelter and feed her, to come up with a distraction for the demodogs, to tell her she doesn’t need to constantly be putting herself at risk for others, to ask for a new plan that doesn’t hurt her. even the little things, like writing letters and hand picking her flowers in her favorite colors and bringing her breakfast. that is how he shows his love for her, and why I think he sounds so solid and honest and serious when he tells her, “I say it,” even when he can’t say it say it

anyway I’m just having some half-formed thoughts about mike trusting actions over words bc of his parents but el needing words bc she can’t see her own actions as the acts of love that they are bc of how she sees herself. with a dash of hollywood influence from the (black and white both literally and metaphorically) romance movies she watched and mimicked in s2

I just think that’s such a real, complex conflict, and I’m actually really impressed with that conversation/argument. but idk maybe it’s not that deep lol (((it’s at least a little deep tho lbr)))

[nattinatalia]

Urban Wyatt x Reader : A LITTLE BUMP

You wake up to your phone ringing, you ignore it and go to the restroom to wash up and do your morning routine.

You then head towards your daughter's room and see if she is awake but notice she’s not in her bed so she’s most likely with your husband getting into some trouble.

You find them in the living room, toys scattered all over the floor. “You Wyatt’s are destroyers, I left the living room cleaned last night before bed.”

Urban and Cassie look up at you smiling.

“She did it”

“He did it”

They both yell out quickly. You shake your head and smile, “What are you guys in the mood for breakfast?”

“We already ate babe, you’ve been stressed lately so you needed the extra rest.”

“Aww thank you baby.” You look at your daughter then back at your husband. “What did you make? It better not have been noodles again, you stay eating those. Se te van a pegar en el estómago.”

“I don’t know what you said but, no, no noodles this time. Made some simple scrambled eggs. Left you a plate with that chia pudding you like so much.”

“Thank you.” You sit down on the carpet next to your daughter who’s playing with her toys and eating some cut up strawberries. “Let me just sit with you two for a bit.”

“Mama look.” Cassie says, showing me a drawing, “I painted you, daddy, me and Teddy.”

“Wow baby, That’s a beautiful drawing.” You look around, “Where is Teddy at?” asking for your dog.

“We let him out to pee real quick, he had a very heavy breakfast.” Urban says, pointing at Cassie.

You nod, understanding what he meant. Your phone keeps ringing for the sixth time so you decide to finally check it.

You open up all the text messages your brother has sent you. “Este loco que.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Carlos, He’s been blowing up my phone all morning.” You go to the text thread and see a bunch of links he has sent you. “Wh- what is this?”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Urban asks, trying to peek on your screen.

“Umm” you stand up from the floor

“Babe, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You don’t answer him and head to the kitchen. You click on the links and see pictures of her and your husband.

You read all the different articles.

“Y/N what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Urban asks, as he walks to where you’re at.

“Have you checked your phone today?”

“No, why?”

“You haven’t been on Twitter or Instagram?”

“No, first thing I did was check on Cassandra and we came downstairs. I haven’t had time to be on my phone, why?”

“This is trending, my brother sent me all these different links.” You show him what you were looking at and he laughs.

“Oh that’s funny.” He takes your phone and scrolls through it, shaking his head. “This is a new one.”

He looks at you smiling but notices the worried look on your face. “Wait, you don’t believe this crap right?”

You don’t answer him right away, “Y/N, you actually believe this? What the fuck?”

“N-no of course not. But I did the math and-“

“I thought we were passed this? I thought you trusted me.” He yells.

“Urban, keep your voice down, Cassie is in the other room.” You tell him, turning to look into the living room to see if she heard him.

“I don’t give a shit right now. We’re married, you said you trusted me. But you asking me about that bullshit says otherwise.”

“It was a question, I simply asked if you’ve seen what was going around.”

“No, it’s the fact that you hesitated when I asked you if you trusted me.”

“You have a track record of sleeping around, yeah. But also don’t blame me for not answering you right away. It just caught me off guard.”

He shakes his head. “Be straight up, own your shit, there’s a part of you that you believe that shit. You honestly think I would step out on you? On my daughter? And with her out of all people?.”

“I’m sorry okay, what else do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and scratches his head. “I need time, I need to get out of here.”

“Urban come on, don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You accused me of cheating and getting Stassie pregnant, tell me how would you react if I questioned you about that?”

“Um you did, when I released my song, you thought I had cheated on you”

He rolls his eyes, “That’s fucking different, You’re questioning me wether I got her pregnant or not.”

“I’m sorry okay, I just-“

“No, I need to get out of here. You figure out your shit. Either you trust me or not.”

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“Urb, babe, please let’s just talk this through.”

“Talk this through? I would’ve done that if you would’ve just said, hey babe there’s some bullshit article going around about you and Stassie. But no, you walked out the room and came and read that shit and doubted me.”

He looks at you shaking his head, he pulls off his wedding band, “You think about everything, figure out your shit, you trust me or you don’t.” He places his ring on the kitchen counter and walks out the kitchen.

You follow behind him and see him grab his keys and goes to kiss Cassie on her head.

“Urb, Urban,”

He shakes his head. “Don’t wait up.” And with that he walks out the door.

You thought maybe he’d come home after a few hours, but a few hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

You miss your husband.

Cassie misses her daddy.

You messed up, and only you can fix it.

But the question is, can you even fix your marriage at this point.?

********

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[mike-wheeler-faggotry]

Volume 2 spoilers, also kinda long.

The "confession" monologue wasn't what it seems. Although at first glance it seems that it really is a loss for byler, I'd argue that it's actually a win. Reason? The monologue is weird and ooc if it's a confession to Jane. But it makes more sense if it's a confession to Will disguised as a confession to Jane. Let's break down the scene.

It starts with Jane struggling against Henry Creel. The rest of cali crew are trying to save her, but it isn't working. Will then says, "Mike, don't stop, okay you're the heart, okay remember that, you're the heart!"

So Will tells Mike he's the heart, so he has to let his heart out. But obviously what's in his heart isn't romantic love for Jane. It's platonic love, strong platonic love, but platonic love that isn't what he think she wants. So he has to give her romantic love. I think, he's been sort of realizing that he's gotten his feelings for Will and Jane mixed up over this season. But no way is he going to say he doesn't love Jane romantically now. So, he says his feelings for Will and says them like they're feelings for Jane.

He starts off by reassuring Jane that he's there with her. And then, after a sort of pause, he blurts out he loves her. In a... rather forced way. Trust me, this isn't "I have a hard time saying I love you", this is "I have to say I love you but it's making me feel wrong." Trust me, I know the second very very well.

"I love you, I'm sorry I don't say it more, it's not because I'm scared of you, I'm not, I've never felt that way, never. But I am scared that one day you'll realize you don't need me anymore, and I thought that if I said how I felt it would somehow make that day, hurt more. But the truth is, El, I don't know how to live without you."

Did anyone else catch the glance to the side before he said "hurt more"? From where he was looking, he would have glanced at... Will. He has to look at Will to get out a confession to Jane? Hmm. And let's rephrase this part a little.

"I love you, I'm sorry I don't say it more, it's not because I'm scared of you don't love you, I'm not do, I've never always felt that way, never. But I am scared that one day you'll realize you don't need me anymore, and I thought that if I said how I felt it would somehow make that day, hurt more. But the truth is, El, I don't know how to live without you."

Just removing the obvious allusion to the milkvan fight and one or 2 other parts makes this more romantic. I.e., milkvan doesn't really fit this confession well. But also, this verson also fits byler well. The disconnect right now is that they both think the other loves someone else. And Mike doesn't know why Will is becoming more and more distant, but he's scared. He knows Will has relied on him in the past, but he's not doing that anymore, and that hurts.

And, well, this is the 80s, if a miracle happens and Will does love him back, being in a relationship would put them at more risk against homophobes. And if Mike confessed, and Will didn't love him back, there would be a chance of Mike being hated. (This wouldnt happen, but Mike doesn't know that for certain). And losing Will would be the most painful thing. So honestly, in his situation, without the foresight of us viewers, the safest thing is to lie and ignore how he loves Will.

Now, onto the very very inflammatory line, "My life started the day i met you in the woods." Now, in context of Milkvan's first meeting, yeah that wouldn't be a very good day. But if your life started the day you met someone, wouldn't saying hello, or asking to be their friend, be the best thing you've ever done. Mike's life started when he met the one he loves. But it wasn't Jane who started his life, it was Will. He's trying to say his feelings for Will and disguise them as feelings for Jane, and in the moment he's. Not really thinking about how the first meeting situations were different.

Let's ignore the shirt remark for now. "And I knew right then and there, in that moment, I loved you. And I've loved you every day since. I love you on your good days, I love you on your bad days, I love you with your powers, I love you without your powers, I love you for exactly who you are. You're my superhero! And, I can't lose you!"

Interesting word choice here. You love her without her powers, yet she's your "superhero". Once again, we have him idealizing her for her powers, regardless of what else he is saying. And actually, has he always loved her every day since? Did he love her when Will's fake body was found and he yelled at her "What's wrong with you?" twice? Did he love her when he called her a weapon to fight against the monsters? Did he love her in season 3 when he wasn't upset about the breakup, just offended?

However, if we ignore the bits about powers, this does hold true about Will. He loves Will so much he does everything in his power to save him from the monsters again and again. He loves Will when they're playing D&D together, he loves Will when he's upset over Mike's bullshit, he loves Will so much he refuses to believe he's dead when he has pretty much no evidence he's alive, he loves Will so much he can't lose him. He loves Will for exactly who he is, and is only able to "be in love" with Jane when he puts her on a pedestal.

"You can do anything! You can fly, you can move mountains, I really believe that, I really do! But right now, you just have to fight, okay?" More superhero, and the heart of the confession. He needs her to fight on and keep living, he's saying what he has to to keep her alive and fighting.

Now, this is all well and good, but where is the proof this is the angle we should be looking at? Because this isn't the first scene byler has been hidden by mileven. When Will showed the painting, he confessed his own feelings to Mike but pretended it was Jane's feelings. Who says that Mike can't be confessing to Will, but pretending he's confessing to Jane? This only adds to the numerous times in past seasons Mike has, in a way, used Jane as a surrogate for Will. And I'm not saying that's a good thing, but it's what's been happening.

Essentially, while the confession may appear to be pro mileven, it's actually pro byler. Do not lose hope everyone!

[leiawritesstories]

prompt idea: tog characters smoke the mirthroot from crescent city series

love your writing!

gonna pretend this didn’t make me have happy tears it's crossover time babyyyyy

word count: 1,479

warnings: this is what happens when i try to keep to canon...but there are multiple canons...oh and i’m also trying to be funny

enjoy!!

Here, Try This

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius was the Queen of Terrasen. A fact in which she took great pride. 

And yet, even queens needed to let loose sometimes. 

She was still adjusting to the sights and sounds and constant stimuli on this new world--the colors she’d never before seen, the impossible technology (she still hadn’t processed that there were people in little glass boxes that you could wear on your wrist!), the weapons almost as deadly as Fae magic, the staggering height of the buildings, and of course, the food--but every day brought a new experience. 

Many of them led by Prince Ruhn Danaan, the Fae prince with more tattoos than her mate and a rather impressive amount of metal in his face. And Bryce, who’d become almost instant friends with Aelin when she introduced her to showers. 

Bryce had been the one to find Aelin, Rowan, Lysandra, Aedion, Fenrys, and Dorian sprawled on the street outside the strange crackling portal thing she called a Gate, Aelin’s experiment with returning to the place where she’d fallen through the worlds having landed all six of them here. In a city called Lunathion. One of the places she’d glimpsed on her headlong fall from the Lock. Bryce had approached them cautiously, warily eyeing the steel strapped to all of them, the blades practically bristling off Rowan in particular, and with her hands raised to show she meant no harm, she’d asked them where the fuck they were from. 

Aelin had been the first to recover from the shock of realizing she spoke the same language as this complete stranger. “Terrasen,” she replied. “Where the fuck are we?” 

Bryce bit back a sharp grin. “Welcome to Lunathion. Or Crescent City. My name’s Bryce Quinlan.” She let her keen golden eyes flick up and down the strangers’ outfits. “Have any of you ever heard of guns? Gods, if we all only had steel, many wars could have been prevented.” Oddly enough, her eyes went distant, misty, before flickering back to the present. “Actually, forget that. I really don’t think I want to introduce you to guns. Butterfly effect and all that.” 

“The what?” Aelin raised her brows. 

“You know, not introducing something from a future time into the past--” 

“Miss, we’re from a different world, not a different time.” As polite as she could, though her mind was whirling. “Well, time probably works differently, but still. I don’t think that applies.” 

“Hmm, okay.” Bryce motioned to the group. “Come with me. You’ve got to get out of those clothes before someone tries to steal them off your unconscious body.” 

“Let them try,” Fenrys smirked, twirling two knives in one palm. 

“Gods, you brought an idiot,” Bryce muttered. 

Aelin choked on a cackle. “I like you, Bryce.” 

“I think I like you too, Miss--” 

“Queen Aelin Whitethorn Galathynius,” Rowan interrupted, the territorial note in his voice not going unnoticed. 

“Call me Aelin.” She pinched her mate. Right in the ass. “I’ve got no fancy title here.” 

And oh, she was enjoying not having a title. 

Yes, people looked at her funny. But then again, who wouldn’t be curious when a stranger showed up? And eventually, most people just saw her as another Fae, saw the Terrasen Fae as just other immortals on the streets, no more different than any other Fae. Vendors didn’t care who passed by their stalls, they just tried to sell them overpriced shit. Bartenders--Dorian’s new favorite kind of people--didn’t care who was on the other side of their bar, just that they were paying for their drinks. 

And even better, if they were in the company of Bryce, Ruhn, or any of their friends, nobody at their favorite club batted an eye. 

Which was fucking wonderful, because how else would the Queen of Terrasen and most of her court, not to mention the King of Adarlan, be able to sample the club’s offerings? 

She’d discovered very quickly that Lunathion had an staggeringly massive selection of wine and beer and ale, as well as hard liquor of all kinds, in flavors she’d never even imagined. Bryce had very nicely introduced her to the concept of cocktails, a word that made Dorian giggle, which were apparently all the rage in this world. Just a few kinds of liquor and some carbonation and bam! Liquid courage! 

Certainly enough liquid courage for Dorian to settle himself at the bar and start flirting with the bartender. 

“What’s up, fuckers?” Ruhn crowed, sliding into the booth with them. 

Bryce smacked the back of her brother’s head. “How much mirthroot have you already smoked?” 

Ruhn tipped his head, considering. “Not much.” 

“Liar,” Bryce snorted. 

“He is.” Declan Emmet and Tristan Flynn, Ruhn’s roommates, appeared and somehow mashed themselves into the crowded booth. 

“Asshole stole my kitchen stash,” Flynn grumbled, throwing a vulgar gesture at the Fae prince. 

“Didn’t hide it very well, jackass,” Ruhn crooned, returning the gesture. 

“What the fuck is mirthroot?” Aelin broke in, intrigued. 

Aelin, no. Rowan’s hand tensed on her thigh. 

Don’t ruin my fun, buzzard. She sent a reassuring pulse down the bond. You’re here, Bryce is here, I’ll be fine. 

“Interested in trying some?” Ruhn asked, his bright blue-violet eyes trained on her. 

“First tell me what it is, I’m not ‘trying’ any foreign shit without knowing if it’ll be lethal.” 

“Ooh, a smart one.” Ruhn smirked, playful glee on his face. “Mirthroot is a mildly hallucinogenic drug that will simply elevate your spirits if you smoke a little of it.” 

“You’re a fucking liar, Danaan,” Declan snorted. “Mirthroot isn’t harmful in low doses, but if you let this bitch--” he slapped Ruhn’s shoulder--“give you some, he’ll give you enough to remember for a very, very long time.” 

“Dickwad,” Ruhn huffed. He fished a small plastic bag out of a pocket and offered it to Aelin, the contents powdery and faintly glowing in the black lighting of the club. “Here, try this.” 

Aelin raised a brow at Bryce. “Want to show me how?” 

“Of course. I won’t be the one to knock you out, unlike these jackasses.” Bryce smirked wickedly at her brother and his roommates, took the bag from Aelin, and tipped some of the powder out onto a thin sheet of paper, rolling it quickly into a cigar. “Light it, take a few puffs and pass it around, AG,” she instructed. 

“Quinlan, you didn’t give her a lighter--shit!” Ruhn exclaimed, goggling as Aelin casually ignited a flame at the tip of her finger and lit the mirthroot. 

“Who needs a lighter?” she smirked. Then she raised the mirthroot to her lips and took a puff, the another. And coughed. “Fuck, this is terrible!” 

Dorian, having returned half-swaying on his feet, plopped down atop the table and snatched the mirthroot from Aelin. “Lemme try!” he slurred, taking a few inhales. His eyes shot open, pupils dilating. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” 

Fenrys, never one to miss out, swiped the drug from Dorian and smoked some himself. “Gods above,” he moaned. “This is the shit!” 

“Aaaaand that’s where I cut you idiots off,” Bryce interjected, snatching the mirthroot. “Here you go, boys, try not to be discovered naked atop some building again.” 

“It was one time!” Declan and Tristan chorused, both flipping Bryce off but accepting the mirthroot nonetheless. 

“That’s what they keep saying,” Bryce snickered to Aelin, settling back into the booth. Beside her, her angel slung one arm casually around her shoulders, nestling her into his side. 

“They’re cute together,” Aelin slurred into Rowan’s ear, decidedly not in a whisper. He pressed his lips together, flashing a half-laughing, apologetic glance at Bryce and Hunt. 

“Mhmm,” he murmured. “And how else is that mirthroot affecting you, Fireheart?”

“Stop fussing,” she grunted. “I’m fine.” 

And dizzy, too. 

Shut up. 

He chuckled softly. Just don’t try to flirt your way into the bartender’s pants.

I’ll leave that to Dorian. Maybe he’ll actually get some--where. Somewhere. 

You are impossible, Fireheart. She could feel his groan. 

Love you too, buzzard! 

“All right, we’re going home,” Rowan announced, hefting Aelin into his arms. 

“Noooo!” she protested, making absolutely no attempt to wriggle free. “I wanna stay here!” 

"And you'll be passed out asleep within the hour," he sighed, rolling his eyes lovingly. "So would you rather sleep in a bed, or on a shitty bench in the club?"

"Bed sounds a lot better," she mumbled.

"I know." Rowan made his way out of the club, leaving behind Dorian and his high-on-Lunathion's-finest flirting, as well as Fenrys and his intoxicated dancing. And the way he was smirking at a dark-haired Fae across said dance floor.

"So how was the mirthroot, love?" he teased when they were back at the apartment.

"Why don't I show you?" she purred, sliding out of his arms and lowering her lashes in the way she knew drove him wild.

And show him she did indeed.

~~~

TAGS:

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[hawkinsp0st]

Hope you are having a great day!! Remember to drink some water today !! Do you have some any Enby Mike headcannons? (Maybe also if you headcannon Will as trans too then some T4T headcannons of the two. no pressure tho if you don't)

omg thank you friend, i am going to start drinking water right now and take my meds as i haven’t yet ! <3

i hope you’re having a great day as well! 😌💛

omg t4t byler headcanons/thoughts YES………..

ok so this is trans will byers dating unlabeled (but def not cis or straight) mike wheeler:

• so will byers is such a good example of healthy masculinity (like think abt him being such a good brother to el!!! “we’ll fix it together” etc) and mike adores this about him……..so when will discloses that he’s trans, mike’s not even phased, he just stares at will like yeah and? ur still the cutest sweetest boy in the world, always have been? ur so handsome and resilient and and and

• in addition to the butterflies he gets as the boy of his dreams is confessing his feelings to him, will feels so euphoric about his gender when mike reveals his feelings and says “i think i like boys… well. especially a particular boy. you.”

• one day mike asks will “how did you know you were… different?” “oh, when i realized i was gay? that’s easy—“ “um, actually. when did you. like. realize you are a boy? only if you’re comfortable talking about it, obviously.”

will blinks, not expecting the question, but wanting to answer—he always enjoys talking about this with mike, who makes him feel warm and affirmed.

“well, i think i always knew… but not everyone is like me. sometimes people realize later in life. it all depends.” “what does it depend on?” “hmm… lots of factors. like, maybe someone didn’t even realize being… different was an option, but then they find out about the concept, and it clicks. i read a book about a guy who was like that—lived as a woman until he was 35 and then woke up one day and went ‘shit, i’ve been a guy this whole time.’”

mike still looks a little nervous, so will gently continues, wanting his boyfriend to know he’s right here and not going anywhere. “do you… know someone who’s feeling this way? who needs someone to talk to?”

mike takes a deep breath—it’s so easy to open up to will. “i think… well, i’ve been thinking a lot, and i’ve always known i’m not a girl.”

will can’t help but let out a little giggle at mike’s willingness to jump right into the topic and his assertion that he’s most certainly not a lady, and mike laughs back. “yeah, same,” will smiles fondly.

“but… sometimes i don’t… totally feel like a boy, either?”

oh, will thinks, that’s neat. he’d read about people who felt that way, but didn’t know much. “that’s really cool, mike.”

“it is?”

“yeah, totally. lots of people feel that way.”

“they do?” mike’s shoulders drop in relief as he looks at will.

“yeah, i mean, i haven’t met anyone like that before—till now? but it totally makes sense. like, how can we expect everyone on the planet to fit into one of two categories?”

mike smiles softly. “yeah. yeah, you’re so right.”

• it gets brought up again a few days later, during a movie date in mike’s basement. in the film they’re watching, someone is putting on eyeliner. mike pauses the movie and just points at the screen, shouting, “that’s it! i just remembered!”

will giggles. “what’s it?”

“eddie—before he passed. he would bring around this friend sometimes, crystal? and she was like… well, i don’t know if i should even say ‘she’... or ‘he’? but crystal was so cool, always had like—blue eyeliner on—gosh, i loved that so much. i’d never seen someone who looks like that before—“

will watches in awe as mike rambles. he could watch his boyfriend go on about any topic for hours, but seeing mike’s eyes light up with self-acceptance and discovery makes this an especially happy moment.

“—and i don’t mean that in a weird way! like, i wasn’t attracted to crystal or anything. i just mean—“

will cuts him off with a kiss, smiling into it. “mike, it’s okay. tell me all about her.”

mike looks like he can’t believe he’s got permission to go on, but of course he does, because it’s will, and will never fails to take all the messy parts of him and arrange them into something pretty. mike’s smile is bright.

“when i saw crystal, that was the first time i felt this, like, consciously. about… maybe not being a boy. or a girl. or anything.” he’s talking fast with his hands. “and then i came to california and saw you, and i thought, ‘wow, i have a girlfriend but wow, boys are beautiful—i mean, this boy is beautiful,’ and i started to think that maybe i don’t want words for who i am. i don’t know. is that weird?”

mike’s eyes are starting to water, and will feels himself get choked up, too. the joy of the moment and how absolutely stunning mike looks when he’s this happy and comfortable makes will forget to respond.

“it’s not that—i mean, it’s great to have words!” mike rushes, thinking maybe he’s offended will by mistake. “like, you’re a guy and that’s so true! i’m not against… labels, i just think—“

will places a hand on mike’s face. “no, i get it. i totally get it. and no matter what you call yourself—or don’t—i love you. i really, really love you.” mike just blinks. “this isn’t going to change anything. i promise.”

mike immediately turns to fully face will & pulls him close. “i love you too, will.” in between kisses, mike murmurs, “i’m just happy i realized i like boys.” will laughs, about to tackle this ridiculous person he calls the love of his life.

• they talk for hours about mike’s labels and lack thereof, and settle on “boyfriend” and “mike” because, in mike’s words, “i definitely want everyone to know i’m your boyfriend. and i’m definitely, ya know. mike.” mike wiggles his eyebrows and nudges will gently in the ribs.

will rolls his eyes and pinches mike in the side. “yeah, asshole, evidently that’s never going to change.” and suddenly here will byers was, at 16, with the love he never thought he’d get to have.

so yeah in conclusion trans will byers and unlabeled mike wheeler are so in love :-)

[noisy-little-raccoon]

what if i asked u 1 and 19 for the elumax asks 🔍 [magnifying glass for info collection]

Well, if u ask, then I will answer 🧐

1. Preference: Does the trio get together all at once, or do two people start dating first and then confess to the third?

It's funny because I never actually heard of someone who prefers trio get together all at once, hahah

So you, I prefer Lumax dating together and then after El broke up with Mike, they would just ask her to date two of them.

OR

Elmax could be dating firstly, and then Max would told El that actually she still feels something for Lucas (as well as telling El that she still loves her and don't want to lose her) and El would be like "Then, why don't you date him too...?" And Max falls in her even more, because??? She isn't mad?? and she actually approves it??

And yeah, so Max would date both of them, and after a while Lucas and El would also catch feeling for each other.

19. S5 Elumax headcanons?

So, yeah about that, I absolutely love that hc that I posted, that Max would use her blindness to walk in publin holding both El and Lucas' hands!

Apart of that, hmm..

What if, Lucas would be the only one next to Max, when she wakes up? And Lucas' first thing (after hugging Max and crying of course) is to call Eleven and told her, because right now, she is the second most important person to him and Max?

and what if El would appear in hospital and both her and Lucas would watch doctors examine Max, while El would hold Lucas' arm and had her head on his arm and his head would be on hers and they would be look at Max through the window, with a tears in their eyes?

and what if Max would joke "I wasn't here only x time, and you already are cheating on me with my best friend" [in a loving, joking way], but inside she is really happy that this two got closer together, so now she would be able spend more time just with two of them. Not only one of them, not with the all party. Just three of them, together.

Okay, it's time to stop Raccony aksakska

Anyway, thank u for ask!!! I appreciate it! (and it's elumax so duh, of course I like it) 💜💜💜

[syrma-sensei]

Moon's Scarab → Ch. 3: It's supposed to be easy.

Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly.

pre-canon fic; based on the Marvel comics and Disney's series Moon Knight.

warning: violence, cursing, angst, smut maybe in the future (?), the majority of spoken Arabic in this story is in Egyptian dialect.

taglist: @kesskirata @zinzinina @urlocallsimp

tell me if you wanna be added to Moon's Scarab taglist!

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Marc Spector

Marc Spector has been in shitty situations more than he can count on his fingers. But this, this... this is an entirely whole new level of shitty situation since he's taken the cape of Moon Knight. Marc is still in utter shock of what just happened; his task for the night was supposed to be super simple; him breaking into the building, beating the shit out of the man with the name Mr. Profile — which is a ridiculously stupid alias in his opinion — after he and Duchamp have worked their asses off to locate him to interrogate him and gather some information they're in need of, kill him, then leave. His plan, didn't include, by any fucking chance, him dragging an unconscious girl all the way back here, and on his fucking shoulder, carrying her like a potato sac.

“Fuck,” An indignant hiss escapes Marc's mouth as he rubs the shimmering string of sweat off of his temple with the heel of his palm. Marc checks the stitches he just did on the kid's head where Mr. Profile left a wound with the butt of his gun before throwing her unconscious and bleeding on Marc in order to distract him and run away; which he successfully did.

Marc clicks his tongue, tearing his elongated gaze away from the sleeping girl on his bed.

“She isn't supposed to be here,”

Marc cranes his neck up, glancing at the tall figure of his god, and sighs, “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why is she lying on your bed, Marc?”

The latter almost, just almost, rolls his eyes, but he clenches his teeth instead, “Need to ask her some questions, okay?”

“Even if she does know something, you should've never brought her here.”

“She was there for a reason,” Marc mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, “And I wanna know why.”

Of course Marc needs to ask her some questions, because he knows for a fact she was there for a reason, given the sudden circumstance he had to deal with there. Marc didn't have on mind that he'd face kids — fucking kids, when he went to interrupt a smuggling deal in order to capture Mr. Profile. The plan was simple and was strategized to take both sides by surprise and to get rid of them without much a mess. However, he did sense something was off about the bunch of kids he knocked out before arriving at the target room; they were way too amateur to be in charge of securing the place, but he didn't dwell on it much, for he'd encountered criminals who hired kids before. That's why he bothered to drag one of them all the way here, thinking it'd be easy to intimidate her and coax the information he's in need of from her. Plus, he couldn't leave an injured girl in such place like that, the thing his god wouldn't actually understand.

“What if she's indeed one of them, hmm?” Khonshu enunciates, his baritone voice mocking, “Are you going to reveal your real face to her?”

Marc sneers, “They already saw my face,”

Khonshu stomps the heel of his moon-shaped sceptre on the ground slightly, “And ruin every discreet measure you have taken to maintain a low profile, as you put it.”

Marc gazes at Khonshu, unamused, “What I meant by keeping low profile is not to use the face of Moon Knight unless it's necessary, so we don't attract the attention of higher authorities.”

Even though no expression can be read on Khonshu's face, Marc knows he's sulking, “Look, if you want me to eradicate The Committee, you're gonna let me do it my way.”

Khonshu chuckles, “You know you're way too insolent for an avatar talking in such way to the god who's snatched you from clutches of death, Marc Spector.”

Marc glowers at Khonshu for a moment, before lolling his head down a tad. Here he goes again, reminding him of why he's still alive until now. Marc doesn't forget that, he never will, that's why he's doing all of this to begin with; trying to repaying his debt to the moon god. But as always, he doesn't make it easy for him, never.

“Anyway, was it truly necessary to bring that here?” Marc points at the statue of Sekhmet, sitting elegantly, even though the circumstances is any but that, on at table Marc has set up for it, “Guess, that what's supposed to remain there, Khonshu,”

The latter's tone appears to be amused, “I couldn't let them have it.”

Marc arches an eyebrow, “Thought you aren't very fond of the other gods.”

“You see, Sekhmet isn't like any other, that's why the gods have determined to banish her, deeming her barbaric actions would draw the humans attention to them.” Marc isn't truly interested in the gods in particular, and his master doesn't speak of them too often, but the sudden eagerness in Khonshu's voice doesn't go unnoticed by him, “She was among the first to defy their absurd decision to abandon humanity,”

“What happened to her?” Marc finds himself ask.

Khonshu lets out a sigh laced with forlornness, “The same fate any god faces when tries to disobey the judgement of the Ennead. She's been sealed in a stone.”

Marc glances at the statue again. It is unique, he must admit, it seems as if it's sculpted just today. The lioness head of the goddess oozes of reverence and viciousness; her expression is calm yet her eyes are glimmering with imperishable wrath. Her setting position is majestic, befitting a dignified goddess like her, she has a remarkable and imposing presence. Small wonder Khonshu speaks so admiringly of her, Marc muses. With the might of Khonshu's given powers, he could carry it along with the girl with ease... well, sort of.

Marc spends the next two hours in taking a quick shower, eating a meal, then reporting what happened to Duchamp, and asks him to do some research on the girl for him. He also wraps the idol with old rags he found in the safehouse; dealing with one god he can do — almost. But dealing with two? No, he doesn't have to. Even if the other is a mere reminiscent of what she'd used to be. She makes him feel suffocated more than Khonshu himself.

As Marc sits behind his laptop at the table again, he hears whimpering emitting from the sprawled girl on his bed. His body instantly reacts and jerks, hands fisting up. But he puts himself at ease again as he stands up and heads slowly towards her, eyeing her stirring and groaning.

The girl grunts and moans, Marc raises an eyebrow, watching her wriggling and moving, til her eyes snap open and her body trembles up. Marc freezes for a moment when his eyes lock with hers. She has a beautiful pair of eyes, he must admit that, dark and wide of a doe's, framed by thick and luscious lashes. For a moment, just a mere moment, he feels ensnared by those two brown orbs, plunged to deep into the dark colour.

His continuous glaring must've scared her as she cowers backwards, pushing her heels on the mattress.

“Where am I?” Is the first thing she asks. “A-And who are you?”

Marc extends his arms, hands firm in a decisive gesture, “You're safe I promise,”

The girl grimaces and winces as she instantly brushes a hand to her freshly stitched wound. Her nose scrunches up, and a moan escapes her lips as she gazes at her fingers.

“I wouldn't touch that if I were you.” Marc warns, “Not if you want it to split open again,”

With a pained scowl, the girl gazes at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, “What am I doing here?”

“About that...” Marc purses his lips in a thin line, pointing his forefinger at her. “Your boss abandoned you, he's the one who caused you this if you remember,” He juts his chin at her injury, “So, I don't think it'll be in use if you lie to me, okay?”

The girl furrows her eyebrows in pure confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Your boss, Mr. Profile—”

The girl snores, she dares to fucking snore as if he said something funny.

“Mr. Profile... my boss?” She chuckles, shaking her head “Look, mr. secret agent or whatever, you got this all wro—” The girl's eyes flit momentarily to the covered statue and her eyes widen. She darts towards it, and fumbles to unwrap it, before even Marc can block her, he gets up and follows her. She stills when her eyes meet the glimmering, green ones.

“What is this doing here?” The girl hisses at Marc who made several steps towards her. “Fuck, you're another smuggler, aren't you? It makes sense now.” She takes an attack position, readying herself for the worst.

Marc's eyes go wide, taken off guard, “What? No!” he flares through his nose, “Look, you practically sabotaged a very important operation, and because of you a very bad guy has escaped from my grasp, after I spent months of looking for 'em.”

The girl snickers, “Sorry to tell you, but that you fucking did the same thing! How am I supposed to believe you and you practically stole this?!” Her chin juts towards the statue.

Marc grumbles, puts his hand on his forehead, almost slamming it, then shakes his head. From the corner of his eyes he sees Khonshu tilting his head to the side in a jeering manner.

Marc sighs deeply, then gazes back at her. “I took it so nobody steals it again!”

“You sound like the British Museum,”

“The little bug does have a point,” Khonshu remarks.

Marc sulks, glancing at Khonshu with the corner of his eyes, “Shut up,”

The girl answers, “Excuse me?”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

She twitches a quizzical eyebrow, “Hello, it's just me and you here.”

Marc shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment, “Nevermind.” He sighs then gazes at her tiredly, “Look, I honestly don't mean you any harm,” He declares, “Just wanna get some info, and you're free to go, I promise,”

“Why would I ever trust anything an American say?”

Marc's eyebrow lift up; comparing this to little Shahd's reaction, he finds himself slightly irritated. But given Egypt's state at the moment, and his country's indirect string-pulling, he can't blame her actually, so he lets that slide for now.

“I'm trying to save many lives here by tracking down a group of dangerous people to stop them.”

“Who's them?”

“The ones Mr. Profile works for.”

Marc notices the sudden flinch in the girl's body. She swallows hard, “W-Why are you after them?”

“Like I told you, they're a bunch of bad guys that needs to be stopped.”

The girl darts her eyes between him and the statue, he lifts his hands up. “I have no business with this, but speaking of which.” He smirks slightly, “Why are you so interested in this? And how did you get in there if you don't work for Mr. Profile?”

“I was with a team obviously—” She cuts herself off, panic invades her face, “Wait a minute, you were the one he held them back, weren't you?”

Marc's hard expression turns into a confused one, “By team you mean that group of kids that got in my way?”

She gasps, “D-Did you kill them?”

“What? Of course not!” Marc lashes out, triggered, “They were a bunch of kids, of course I didn't kill them!”

“Then why didn't they show up in time and instead of you?!”

“So you're one of them?”

“Yes, obviously, dumbass!” She huffs, clearly irritated and unsettled. “We call ourselves the Free Preservationists, we detect stolen valuable items and give them back to their rightful owners.”

Marc lifts his eyebrows, lower lip flipped, he's clearly impressed by that. But again, he isn't going to easily to believe that, he needs more details, “Why don't you just trust the police with this stuff?”

The girl looks at him in a manner as if he said the stupidest thing on Earth, maybe he just did. “Same reason you do what you do...”

“But what do you really do?”

“Because that,” She points at the statue, “Belongs to Masr, and only Masr.”

“I like her,” Khonshu untimely comment makes Marc twitch, causing the girl to grimace, “Have a problem with that?”

Marc exhales, “Not at all, but why work in the shadows tho?” He inquires.

“Well, ever since Balaha has forced himself upon us as a president, he and his men are no different from the ones we stop; they, themselves, are involved in the sudden and big movement of stolen Egyptian relics in the black market. How do you think that get there?”

“So, according to the current law now, you and your pals are criminals?”

“Yes, pretty much so.” She agrees, “Logically, when a citizen finds a national treasure, they hand it to the authorities, they're gonna reward them some cash and host them to nonsense interviews. But it's not exactly what we do, we steal what they already have stolen, and that's the jeopardy of our job.”

“Hamiha haramiha,” [The supposed guardians are the thieves]

“Yes!” She exclaims, “Exactly,”

“What do you know about this guy,” Marc straightens his posture, “Mr. Profile.”

“He's been behind multiple smuggling deals. However, this is the first time we managed to capture him. But thanks to you, it magically failed!” She snarls.

Marc lifts his arms indignantly, “Okay, listen to me, kid—”

“I'm not a kid, goddamn it!” She squeaks, “I'm freaking twenty-two!”

Marc raises his eyebrows at the new information; her baby face is really deceiving, he thought she's at most seventeen or so.

The girl sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before gazing back at him, “Okay, let's say you're the good guy here,” She says cautiously, “Who do you work for, huh? The CIA? MI6? A PI”

“First of all, I never said I'm the good guy, I'm just a man who tries to make things right,” Marc says.

She rolls her eyes and twitches her eyebrows, “That makes you kinda a good guy, dipshit.”

Marc bits the inside of his lower lip, trying so hard not to snap. “Second, I work alone.” He answers bluntly, frankly. “Third, I don't think that's a decent way to speak with the man who saved your preservationist ass,”

The colour of her face rises, and he's satisfied with that. “Again, if it weren't for you, we'd have a successful mission!”

“Well, same shit here!”

Marc sighs, takes a deep breath as he swips his palm over his face. “How am I supposed to know about your operation from the first place....” He realises he didn't get her name. “Sorry, I didn't catch your name...”

“Dude, are you for real...?”

“Just answer the damn questions, damn it.”

“Scar.” She answers almost immediately.

“Bullshit.” Marc blurts out.

“Yeah, says the man who claims to do the right thing by kidnapping a woman.”

“Y'know, it was a mistake.” Marc growls, “Should've left your ass right in there.”

“Well, don't recall asking your favour to save me.”

Marc's face deadpans as he eyes her stoically even though he's boiling on the inside. It's supposed to be easy; getting a couple pieces of information from a harmless girl.

Scar breathes in and out, before speaking again, “Okay, that was mean to say. I'm sorry.”

Marc sucks his teeth, waving his hand, “Doesn't matter.”

Awkward silence.

“Okay...” Scar says gingerly, “Since I told you everything, I'll be off now. Good luck with your superhero wor—”

Marc grits his teeth as he clasps her wrist, “No, you didn't, and that's up to me to decide—” A ringtone interrupts his words, and he draws his phone out of his his pocket.

“Are you for real, man?” Scar groans. “This is furthest thing from being a pro.”

Despite his unamused face, Marc ignores and speaks to the caller, “Yes, Frenchie,”

“I'm still here by the way,” Scar says after he lets her hand, and turns his back to her.

She huffs angrily, “Wo khara!” [Shit!]

“Fi wishek,” [In your face] Marc retorts calmly, not even heeding her a glance.

Scar gasps, and he allows himself to smirk, but it drops as he hears seriousness in Duchamp's voice he seldom probes, “Where did you find that madmoiselle, Marc?”

“Doesn't matter now, tell me what you got,”

“I'm afraid it does matter, my friend,” Duchamp's voice rises as he snaps a bit, “I'm sure as fuck that I told you to be careful, merd!”

Marc senses something's wrong, so he leaves the woman alone and heads to the kitchen, “What is it, buddy?” He finds his heart go rapid for no reason, a gesture he normally has when something doesn't bode well.

“Do you even have any idea about the name of the girl you've captured, smartass?”

“Well, that's why I've asked you to do some research, smartass.”

“I did, and here's the shit: the girl you dragged right into your place, her name's Layla Abdullah El-Faouly.”

Marc feels an electrified tremble pass through his entire being, as his body freezes. God, he's totally fucked. A nauseous knot coils at the tip of his stomach as a rapid image of that night flashes through his head. It begins to huddle and latch on the base of his skull, writhing achingly to gyrate around his mind.

However, he's quick to shake himself out of it this time; the adrenaline snaps him out of it. And he darts towards the room where he left her. Layla.

He opens his mouth to say something as he steps in, but he finds nobody, and the statue is no where to be found.

“Oh, fuck.”

Marc's mind shoves into deafening numbness.

[quinnathy]

Hi!!

Sorry I just read your fics on AO3 and this sounds really sappy but you’re genuinely one of the best fanfiction authors I’ve come across.

You stories are so amazing and it also got me thinking, what do you recon would happen when either Jake decided to introduce himself to Layla, or Layla somehow unexpectedly finds out about Jake?

I have a couple of ideas myself that I’m thinking about writing, but I’d love to hear your ideas!

you're so kind?? thank you so much?? that seriously means the absolute world to me, thank you, i'm so glad you enjoy what i write!! <333

and oh my god. thank you for the moon knight prompt to think about, i have been LACKING. headcanons incoming under the cut and im so sorry i COMPLETELY ran away with this ask omg

(if you do write anything, tag me!! i'd love to read it <3)

i don't know if jake'll take the initiative to introduce himself to layla, so if he IS the one introducing himself, it's probably because steven talked him into it. in this case i think he'd be brusque and awkward but he'd be trying his best you know??

jake likes layla, we've seen him insanely protective over her and kick ass for her, and he knows how much she means to marc and steven - so he'll be on good behavior. it'll still be weird for him though, since he knows her and she doesn't know her, and he has to juggle that weird context.

"There's someone we'd like you to meet, yeah?" Steven lets out a small tense laugh, taking Layla's hands in his own. "He's another one of us. An alter, I mean, but you—you probably know what I meant anyway."

Surprise sparks in her eyes, but Layla's mouth quirks up into a comforting smile, running her thumb in soothing circles over Steven's palm to put him at ease. "Who's that?"

"He's..." Steven pauses. "He'll tell you himself? If that's okay?"

Layla nods. As if given permission, Steven's demeanor changes—but it's not Marc that fronts. Layla's fully familiar with both Marc and Steven's mannerisms to be able to tell them apart without them speaking—and this isn't Marc.

"Hey." His voice is lower. More gruff. There's a hint of an accent in there, loudly American, rounder than Marc's. His hands tense where they're still clasped with Layla's, and she loosens her grip, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted.

He doesn't. He stays, still in her hands, as if afraid of scaring her away.

"I'm Layla," she decides to say, sticking with something safe.

"I know." He sounds almost amused, but nerves strain his voice. "I see you. Sometimes."

Layla raises an eyebrow, half-playfully. "You do?"

Seeming to recognize how odd that sounded, he sighs, frustrated. "Mierda. Fuckin' told Steven this was a bad idea. Sorry, I—it's—odd to talk to you. Actually talk to you."

"Have we met?"

The new alter exhales a contemplative breath. "We're... not complete strangers."

And he seems so on edge, so ready to bolt at the slightest hint of discomfort from Layla that she decides to pursue that topic another day. Instead, she holds his hands tighter—not so much to be gripping him, but enough that it's a welcome of sorts.

He stares at her with a thinly-veiled sort of desperation. Desperation for the comfort that small touch offers. "I'm Jake. Jake Lockley."

"Layla El-Faouly," Layla returns, offering him a soft smile. Offering him more than that, really—it's a smile, and an invitation, and a reassurance.

The barest hint of a smile tugs at Jake's lips. "I know," he says again, and it's a good to meet you and a thank you all rolled into one.

if its layla finding out about jake accidentally though... hmm. layla rolled with steven pretty well, so the shock of a new alter probably wouldn't faze her for long, but she also isn't the type to just be instantly soft and trusting. i'm thinking she'd be on guard, trying to figure out if jake's gonna be a threat to marc or steven, but also she wouldn't be scared or aggressive. (aka layla el-faouly is SMART and BADASS and we love her to death in this household.)

"You're not Marc," Layla says quietly, and Jake feels his heart skip a beat. There's blood on his shirt and bruises on his knuckles, yet at that moment all he can register is panic.

"I'm not," he agrees quietly, pulling off his gloves and gazing into Layla's eyes. Not threateningly—he's got his stance relaxed and his eyes wide, intent but not curious. Waiting to see what she'll do.

"Not Steven, either," she notes, a hint of dry humor in her voice. A swell of fondness rises in Jake's chest, quickly tamped down by frustration. She doesn't know him. She might not like him.

"Nope."

"Is that blood yours?"

Jake sighs, reaching up to pull his hat off, setting it gently on the kitchen table. "No. It's not."

And he thinks for sure that's what's going to do it. That's what's going to get Layla to hate him, to look at him with disgust, to face him with the same trepidation Marc and Steven had in Cairo. After all, she's the one who talked Marc out of killing Harrow—and what did Jake do but shoot the bastard at point-blank range?

Instead of any of that, though, her next question stops him in his tracks. "Do they know about you?"

He knows exactly who 'they' are. "No."

"Are you a threat to them?"

Never. Jake's only goal has always been to protect them.

He doesn't say as much, but something in his eyes must spark because Layla looks at him him. Appraises him. Nods once.

"Okay," she says, quietly. "Okay."

obviously this is if marc and steven don't know about jake. if they DID know and she found out about jake accidentally she'd be making marc sleep on the couch (even though its his flat) for days for keeping more fucking secrets from her

idk idk this was just fun to write and i miss these boys so much omg. hope this is semi what you asked for (even though i completely went off the rails)

[chasingfictions]

1, 10, and 23 for the writing ask thingy :)

Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

hmm okay well the thing im currently actively working on (though actively is a really strong word because my job has been Insane lately) is a novel (non-fic) n she is a tiny little baby mollusk just screeching into the world so i dont wanna talk abt her (also working on a non-fic short story i dont wanna talk abt for the same reason n also privacy). but in terms of fic that i currently have open in tabs!!!!

ats season 4 for my faith series - the progress of this is pretty minimal bc im holding off on starting work on it until i make more headway on my novel outline, bc writing these faith fics inevitably takes over my life . but! mostly right now my notes are full of like, rambly ideas about how to Fix the Jasmine of It All because i want Jasmine to be a character but, by keeping connor a baby, and my determination to keep cordy herself, i need to change How she comes about . but ok the thing i love most about getting to rewrite this part is that to me ats s4 is where it All Goes Wrong. like, it's the character assassination of cordelia chase, and the show really hitting a misogyny peak which is impressive when u consider how misogynistic it already was . to me the ats s3 finale has so much promise which s4 inevitably makes mean essentially Nothing -- mostly in terms of the show's treatment of cordy. so im basically really hyped to write an s4 that is very much About cordy - about cangel! about angel working through (read: getting bullied by the entire fang gang about until he does something about) some of his misogyny, to become the kind of person who could be in an actual long-term relationship w cordy. this s4 rewrite said Angel's Madonna Whore Complex is On The Chopping Block . also im just really hyped to write jasmine. like, writing mind-altered states to me is very fun-- i love writing dream sequences and ritual sequences and intense emotions . so writing faith under jasmine's thrall ??? im hyped. also maybe half the reason this series exists is to occasion a faith/gwen fling sooooooooo.

i also have open a russian doll fluff fic - basically nadia and alan do a marathon watch of all the timefucky episodes of btvs . i simply love to Make Characters Watch TV . i LOVE writing their dialogue i love them so much. i love getting to rant about btvs filtered via the voice of nadia . the progress of this is decent !! i have like a quarter written and the rest roughly outlined

also have a VERY sparsely outlined succession fic about shiv being a lesbian . essentially a 5+1 (5 times shiv lost to her comphet and 1 time she didn't teeheeeee) . what im excited about here is simply that shiv roy is a lesbian and the world has to know. and also ive never written a 5+1 but i think the concept is just so fun.

ALSO i have another lottie lee yellowjackets fic in drafts . this is very new, mostly just popping the vague vibe of it and a few dialogue ideas into a document . but basically it's based on the new florence song 'casssandra' and it's going to be like, half taking place before laura lee's death and half after. what im hyped about this one is that lottie's precognizance makes me INSANE it makes me INSANE INSANE INSANE and i really wanna dig into just a very heavy heady fucked up littel tone here . also i just . i love lottie lee but i cant even think abt them and im excited to Think About Them In A Structured (lmao) Place bc hopefully that will make the process more tenable!!!!!!

10. How would you describe your writing process?

i've often described it as "building the ship as i sail it" . i love to outline, it's the way that i can write the quickest and with the most energy -- i like basically having little story headings for plot beats, and writing each segment, bc then i can have in my head exactly what im building towards, and can keep a sense of pacing in my head bc i know what else the story is going to contain . but also this allows me to write things out of order , while still having a general sense of the shape of the overall story, bc otherwise things can get really topsy turvy in my head.

but also im a big outliner-as-i-write. like often i will start out with a few story headings that are very sparse, and as i get the idea for one, ill get a sense of how to flesh out another, and im gradually filling in the whole picture, which each part interconnecting to and allowing me to fill in other parts.

like, i guess i write in the same way i solve crossword puzzles.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

ooh okay -- gonna keep it to fic bc again my original writing is my Sensitive Little Boy (and also i aim 2 have more of that published n and dont want to connect my tiny internet corner to my public writing, in the interest of current n future privacy). but!!!! the two fics ive had in my head the longest i think are both from my spike fluff series:

a spuffy happily ever after wedding fic . exactly what it sounds like on the tin . spuffy getting married - their engagement and wedding and them establishing their life together . also an Everyone-Lives fic, literally partly bc i just want it to be the fluffiest lightest thing possible, and partly bc (as ive demonstrated lol) i simply love writing a Big Chaotic Wedding Where Everyone Is In the Room and Interacting . so like, jenny is alive and wesley and and cordelia and anya and tara and fred and everybody and probably even also joyce-- not kendra just bc i cant undo her death without changing too much of the timeline? but i am Trying to find a way to work her in like, idk maybe ghost kendra is at the wedding idk guys. anyway i love this fic so much i have so much of it drafted and just havent had time 2 devote to it yet . but married spuffy is so real to me theyre SO real to ME!!!!!

a spike and harmony do laundry together fic okay hear me out. early s5 . spike finds out harmony has never done laundry . her parents always did it for her and then her minions and after that she legit panicked bc it felt too late to learn and either paid for a cleaners' to do her laundry or just kept stealing new clothes when her old ones were dirty. but then the cleaners refuses to do her laundry anymore bc she killed too many of them . spike finds this out . he's like. you cant do LAUNDRY? harmony is like what like you CAN? he's like yeah i learned last year at xander's (he's very proud). spike and harmony descend on the 24 hour laundromat . it becomes clear that spike is Very Bad At Laundry Still but Moderately Better Than Harmony . they may or may not break several washing machines from bashing them in a fit of rage. gradually harmony becomes the queen of the late night laundromat demon social scene . this fic means so much to me i could cry. also ive never written spike/harmony before and simply put i think they are so FUN . they are SO FUN.

[kiridarling]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒

izuku midoriya | ft. ceo!au + praise + exhibitionism + breaking and entering + body worship + f!reader + more! minors dni.

— 3.8k words

“When I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to."

You’ve always hated Chopin.

“L’œuf mimosa, Madame?”

After turning down the poor waiter whose arms quiver under the weight of the plates, you turn back to your red wine and people-watching. The ballroom is full of golds and reds, the amber lighting illuminating the intricately decorated walls. And you sit in the middle of it all—you and your 147 billion net-worth, with a ball gown that’s caught at least half the aristocratic asshole’s attention, not that they were very loyal to their wives in the first place.

You're not here for their attention, though. You’re strictly here for business—and frankly, you want to do nothing more than sock these fat business moguls in their chubby faces until their teeth fall out and demand they pay their taxes. But, seeing as you’re the only woman here who isn’t a gold-digging wife, you bite your tongue.

You’ve always dreaded black tie events, but as you’ve said, duty calls.

A whine filters through the speakers, followed by two amplified taps and a clear of a throat. The murmur down as the auction's owner takes the center of the stage, stilling in front of the next piece of art—hidden behind a black veil—before adjusting the tie to his business suit.

“I’m glad that you all could be with us tonight. I have both a great privilege and honor to host this event,” he announces, bulbous head already growing damp under the heat of the stage lights. “Now that we're almost at the end, I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Saving the best for last, as one does."

He includes a casual wave to his comment and the audience erupts in a flurry of chuckles, though not for long. As he walks over to the piece, hand raised and ready to reveal, silence seizes the room by the neck.

"Well. Shall we?”

The audience balances on the edges of their seats, with millions of wide eyes and thrumming chests in anticipation. A smooth flick of a hand and the black sheet is removed, and there sits the only piece you’ve had your eyes on all night. She’s even more beautiful up close.

“El Bacio, The Kiss. Francesco Hayez, 1859.”

The grip around your glass tightens. The brilliant blue from the woman’s dress in the oil painting may as well burn your eyes, and the surrounding murmurs peak with your interest. You know it's yours without question, though—you can outbid almost anyone in this room. Anyone that matters, anyway.

“This is the original version, originally commissioned by Count Alfonso Maria Visconti of Saliceto. It was donated to the Pinacoteca di Brera in 1886 and went missing in 1937. Starting at ten million.”

You try not to scowl. The fucker jacked up the price by two million.

“Twelve million,” the man says as he recognizes whoever lifted a hand. You sit tight, your hands throbbing in your lap for the right moment as you survey the room for anyone who could possibly pose a threat. You find none.

The bidding continues. The price elevates from twelve million to fifteen to thirty to fifty. You raise a hand, finally, fingers splayed wide and confident to signify a five.

“Fifty-five million.”

The room falls silent; you try not to smile. You know for a fact no one wants this painting more than you do, and you’re determined to have it.

“No one else?”

His eyes scan the room but no one makes a motion. It’s yours.

Until there’s movement from your peripheral.

“Sixty million!”

You eye whoever had the audacity to raise their hand, only to be met with a rather peculiar sight—a man, roughly your age, with slicked-back green hair and a hand twice the size of yours, lifted lazily in the air.

With a huff, you find yourself thrusting another five into the air.

“Sixty-five millio—Seventy million!”

You know that green-haired (probably) trust fund baby has got to be doing this for fun because the poorly hidden smirk hidden behind the hand he rests his chin on is more than obvious.

You dislike him already, immediately categorizing him with the rest—another sleazeball.

“Seventy-five million!”

“Eighty million!”

“One hundred million!”

In your defense, you were getting frustrated.

Either way, the green-haired stranger backs off with a nonchalant shrug, and it makes you burn this discontent. The business mogul-turned-auctioneer steps off the stage for another twenty-minute intermission and folks turn to one another for conversation. You sigh, simply satisfied that you’ve gotten what you came for.

You find yourself faintly puzzled by the boy with the green hair, and you're sure it's solely due to his age. Frankly, you've been the only one under thirty in the Top 100 Richest People since you achieved such a feat, and the fact that you haven't heard of him is...puzzling. But it doesn't matter. Clearly, he’s just another fellow looking to put another pretty thing in his foyer—you doubt he knows a thing about art, and definitely not an appreciation for it. You find solace in the fact that it's the new addition to your precious art collection instead, and will be owned and taken care of by someone who actually enjoys it.

“Good evening.”

You jump. Wrapped up in all of your inner turmoil (complemented by inner bragging, naturally) you fail to notice the greenette cross the expanse of the ballroom and make himself comfortable in the open seat next to you, despite your lack of approval.

“Hello,” you say, unsure of why he's here. He offers a hand to shake, Rolex glinting under the golden lighting.

“Izuku Midoriya,” he introduces, and you suppose shaking his hand won’t hurt.

“Your name?” He snorts, raising a cocky eyebrow. You scowl.

“Does it matter?”

“Not particularly.” Izuku rests his forearms on the table as his evergreen eyes rake your figure up and down. “But if you prefer to remain nameless, be my guest.”

“[Y/N].”

“Hmm?”

“My name,” you clarify. “It’s [Y/N].”

You’re not exactly sure what possessed you to tell him your name so easily. Maybe the fact that most already know who you are, and the fact that this man—this stranger—doesn’t know who you are, irks you a bit.

Okay. It irks you a lot.

“Well, Miss [Y/N],” Izuku tilts his head sideways. “I think that’s a very pretty name.”

Your body betrays you with a light gasp. Stupid thing.

“Well. I’m bored,” Izuku announces childishly, relaxing against the chair. “Lets go somewhere.”

You roll your eyes at his asserted dominance—in no way does he expect you to go with him, does he? You raise an eyebrow.

“No.”

Izuku clicks his tongue as if it were a buzzer, and more importantly, as if you were wrong. “Why?”

That has you scoffing. “I don’t know you.”

Izuku’s eyes flash with a challenge and it’s gone just as quickly. He leans forwards, crowding your personal space yet again.

“I told you my name, no?”

“You did,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your back. You feel too small. “But I know nothing about you.“

“Well,” Izuku places an inquisitive finger on his lips, and it’s almost mocking, the way he takes a moment to think about it. “My name is Izuku Midoriya. I like...katsudon and hero movies. I’m here because I have too much time and money on my hands, and I’m, most importantly, bored.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you do for a living?”

Izuku’s lip curls, and it’s downright sinister, “I'll tell you if you come with me."

You roll your eyes, and he takes both your hands in his. You don’t pull away, but you don’t reciprocate it either.

“Where?”

Izuku shrugs, “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Your stomach growls loudly, interrupting your fairly intimate conversation and dying your cheeks pink. Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“I heard they’re feeding us escargo for dinner.”

“Ugh,” you sigh, shoulder sagging. “Looks like I’m not eating, then.”

But there’s a glint in his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t one in your own. There's an ebb in the discourse, a beat, before Izuku's nodding towards the exit.

“Fast food?”

Wendy’s hits different during a Parisian midnight.

“—and so I had to be like: No Kacchan, you can’t hotwire his car to blow just because your food was, and I quote, lukewarm.”

You snicker behind a fist, digging your fancy heels into the grimy cement sidewalk, Wendy’s frostee in hand. Izuku hasn’t let go of your hand since you two left the fast-food joint, and for some reason, you haven’t pulled away.

"Violence seems to be a reoccurring theme with your friend," you say, laughing when Izuku nods in agreement, eyes stuck on the full moon hanging high in the air.

"You remind me of him, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, unable to see the correlation at all, "Because I'm a loud and angry and I like to blow things up."

"Or, because you're strong—independent. The type of woman to make men turn tail and run, you know?" Izuku turns to you with a lopsided grin.

You hum, averting your eyes to the moon. It's a stupid question, one that's all too loaded yet empty at the same time, and you hate that you hesitate to ask it.

"Why haven't you ran, then?"

"Easy." Izuku lets a smooth shrug roll off his shoulders, "I like strong women."

He continues to pull you to an undisclosed destination, the two of you stumbling through the heart of Paris with his suit jacket around your goosebump-ridden shoulders. People stare, but for the first time in forever, you find that you don't care much.

Finally, you two reach Izuku's "big reveal." You gaze at the magnificently lit french building in confusion, the golden under lights contrasting both of your beings against the navy blue sky.

"The Louvre?"

"Mhm," Izuku says, and he looks more than giddy. "Have you been?"

"Once," your voice is weary and you're sure he senses it, his grip tightening around your own. "For a fundraiser...but it's midnight Izuku, ho—"

But he's already tugging you to the right, dipping between columns and arches until you reach the back of the building. Izuku turns to you and whispers:

"Watch this."

It's hard to tell what he did exactly, especially with no light—it's just a bunch of jingles and ticks. Though, the moment you can't escape the sense that this is beyond sketchy, a lock clicks, and a door whines open.

"Hurry. And take your heels off," Izuku whispers, tilting his head towards the entrance. You hear the crunch of a leaf and see the beginning of a white flashlight curl around the building and fuck, this place has to be crawling with security guards, doesn't it?

"Don't tell me what to do," you grumble...as you take off your shoes. (Because you were going to do it anyway.) You enter and he closes the door behind the two of you, submerging you both in complete darkness.

"Security's only on the outside," Izuku grins. "They don't expect us to get inside, so as long as we're quiet, it should be fine."

"Until we have to get back out again," you say, huffing. Your heart pounds from the adrenaline because frankly, you've never been one for adventures, and breaking into a historical french museum is miles out of your comfort zone. "Seriously, did you think this through at all? What happens when we get caught?"

Izuku sighs, turning to you with a pout before grabbing your free hand again. "Women worry too much. C'mon—I wanna explore."

"You—let go, you misogynistic assho—"

You're cut off by a finger to your lips. Izuku bends down so he’s looking at you straight on, eyes dark as he sternly whispers, "Do you want us to get caught?"

It's not the prospect of getting caught that makes you falter, though—it's the way his stare pins you in place, voice swollen with that air of dominance you claim to hate. You have to tighten your grip on your heels to ensure they don't hit the ground.

"Now," Izuku‘s strangely childish manner returns, tugging your hand once your panicked whisper-yelling ceases, "Shall we?"

You roll your eyes, but your bare feet patter against the cold Louvre tile anyway. And you've got to say, the museum is much nicer when it isn't crawling with people.

"Mona Lisa's forehead is bigger than I thought," Izuku observes with a finger on his lip. He's on the wrong side of the railing, his nose close to kissing the glass protecting the piece. You snort, dropping your head to pinch the bridge. He turns to give you a weird look.

"What?"

"Nothing, just," you shake your head, the cool wood of the railing digging into your forearms. "Did you actually want that painting?"

Izuku frowns. "Which one?"

"El Bacio."

"Mm," the greenette hums as he thinks, blinking to the corner of the room."I suppose. You seemed like you wanted it more, though."

You roll your eyes, "So you cap at eighty million?"

Izuku shrugs, hopping the railing. Seems like he's finally done insulting poor Lisa, "I capped when you started to sweat."

You huff, but stomping instead of walking isn't so intimidating when you're barefoot. "I wasn't sweating."

You see a hidden smirk on Izuku's face once you catch up to him, and it's frustrating and insulting, to say the least. Both of you proceed down a hall of statues. "You're much easier to read than you think, Miss [Y/N]."

"And you're not as perceptive as you think, Mister Midoriya."

Izuku chuckles at that, shaking his head. "Well played, Miss [Y/N]. Well played."

You're not sure why your chest swells, but it does, and it takes both you and your limited lung capacity off guard. But you don't have much time to sort it out—Izuku's grabbing your hand again, and redirecting your attention to the last statue in the hall. You recognize it and frown.

“Cupid and Psyche?”

The silver moonlight pours in through the window, spilling down Cupid’s tipped wings and the softest points of the Psyche’s curves. Izuku hums in confirmation, hands sliding to encompass your hips as his chin hooks on your shoulder.

"Well done, Miss [Y/N]."

His voice deepens—it's coarse and heady, and gets your blood rushing in a way breaking and entering never could have.

"Amore e Psiche, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Antonio Canova, 1793."

You fail to understand why this statue stood out to him compared to all the others, but the circles Izuku’s thumb presses into your hips signifies that you’ll find out soon.

"Cupid represents desire, and Psyche, the human soul," Izuku says, running his hands up your sides. "Together, they make the perfect union."

Dipping his nose into your neck, Izuku inhales, and the hands around your waist tighten, if the smallest bit. "Psyche was the prettiest woman in the world; so pretty she rivaled Venus' beauty with her own. It didn't matter if it broke rules—Cupid knew he had to have her."

The gentle nudge of a neck evolves into a set of butterfly kisses, tracing the column of your neck until his mouth reaches your ear. A hand slides to gently cup your breast, and the other to your thigh.

"Miss [Y/N], when I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to." Izuku groans into your neck, hips gently grinding forwards. "So, it's up to you what we do next—I could drop you off at your home to probably never see you again, or...”

Izuku shifts, and you can feel his hardening cock against your back. “I can bend you over right here. Your choice.”

You hesitate, determined to think this through—but Izuku's wandering hands and rutting hips prove to be too much of a distraction.

"Fine," is all you say, before whirling around, grabbing the greenette by his dress shirt, and slamming your lips onto his.

Izuku kisses back with a grin—like he knew you were going to say yes—and places his hands around your waist yet again, backing you up against the marble statue.

"Sit on the platform," he breathes into your mouth. You frown.

"Like, the platform to the statue? Caus—"

"Yes on the statue, now sit," Izuku demands, but he doesn't give you much room to protest, forcing you onto the marble platform. Hiking your dress to your waist, Izuku's calloused palms slide up your inner thighs, spreading them apart to make room for himself in between. He pauses.

"No panties?"

You flush red—from the exposure or the comment, you aren't sure—but you huff in defiance nevertheless, determined to stand your ground and keep some of your dignity. (Though you're positive Izuku can feel you shaking already.)

"I'm wearing a dress," you defend weakly.

Izuku hums behind a bitten lip, lying a heavy thumb on your clit. It's enough pressure to make your thighs tense but not much else, until it flicks downwards.

"I wanna taste you," Izuku growls with dilated pupils once he finally tears his gaze from your exposed body. "Can I?"

Heat surges through your veins, and you let him pry your thighs apart as you respond with an unsteady, "Yeah—yeah, that's fine."

Izuku's chest rumbles with a growl as he closes in on your pussy, hands gripping underneath your thighs. You whimper when he trails butterfly kisses down your inner legs, the grip you have around the skirt of your dress tightening.

"So pretty," Izuku groans, chuckling when you shiver as he flattens his tongue against your slit, "My Goddess."

With that he dives in, almost sending you toppling with the force. The moonlight dyes his green locks a navy blue, and you can't resist seizing them into a fist when he pushes a finger in.

"Feel good, Gorgeous?" Izuku says with a knowing smirk on his sinfully glossed lips. Another digit enters and it has your toes curling as you nod. “Shit, you’re tight.”

Izuku spits on your pussy and it’s downright dirty, before looks at you under forest green eyelashes, the other hand finally letting go of your thigh in favor for pulling at the top of your dress.

“Izuku, wha—“

“I wanna see your tits,” he huffs. You’d laugh at his enthusiasm if you weren’t so aroused, and you find your hands joining in the flurry. The moment they’re free, Izuku’s mouth latches onto your breast in an instant.

“F-Fuck, ‘Zuku—“

“You sound so good when you moan my name, sweetheart,” Izuku groans, and you jolt as he tweaks a bud.

“Say it again.”

He pinches your nipple and clit at the same time, and it has your legs kicking as you squeal his name again.

The Izuku growls and it's nothing but feral, and another yelp of his name has him pulling you to your feet to the point where your noses almost touch. Aggravated from being so close before the greenette ripped his fingers away has you scowling.

"Wha—"

"Can I fuck you?" His breath ghosts your lips. You hide your shock by a roll of your eyes.

"Do you always ask stupid questions?"

Izuku hums in contemplation before grabbing you harshly by the jaw, to the point where your cheeks squish into your eyes and your lips pucker. "Say it, Bunny."

"I just sa—"

"Say 'I want you to fuck me, Izuku,'" he says with a cruel snarl. "’Hard.’"

Your eyes dart from his heavy gaze to the statue, and you can't help but feel more fragile than glass. "I litera—"

"Say it, brat."

"I—" you try but nothing comes out, and you blame that darkened stare of his, "I w-want you to fuck me. Izuku."

Izuku inhales sharply, the fingers cradling your face tightening before he speaks again.

"Good girl."

He spins you so your hands lay on the statue's base, yanking your hips back and flipping your dress so your bare ass is exposed to the cool air.

Izuku's palms caress your behind, kneading both globes before he pulls you against his bare cock. (When he took off his pants is beyond you.) He slaps his cock against your clit until you huff in frustration, turning around to shoot him an angry glare.

"Today, Izuku."

The greenette blinks out of his absorbed gaze on your behind in favor of glowering you down. You waver under his glare despite your best efforts.

His cock kisses your entrance and then all of it is in you at once, and his size is enough to make your inner thighs ache from the stretch. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle a moan, but that crashes and burns fairly quickly.

"O-Oh shi—"

"You said today, didn't you?" Izuku rasps, before pulling out and stuffing you full at a quick and steady pace. Your hands scramble for proper purchase against the statue—without breaking it, for gods sake—but the harder he fucks you into it, the harder it is to stay upright. "Quiet, baby. We're not supposed to be here, remember?"

You nod frantically, teeth digging into your bottom lip. The thought of getting caught, you, of all people, while being railed against a marble statue—

Izuku moans in your ear, a hand moving between your thighs to rub at your clit. "Oh, you tightened when I said that—you like the idea of getting caught, Bunny?"

You respond with a choked moan, thighs quivering with an impending orgasm. Izuku groans as you tighten around him again, but they quickly turn into shushes.

"Bu—"

"I-I know," your voice cracks and it's absolutely pathetic. "But I can't—"

Izuku's hand wraps around your mouth to the point where his fingertips just barely brush your ears. You whine, eyes fluttering as the new grip adjusts the angle ever so slightly, and pushes him so much deeper.

"You're gonna kill me," Izuku says, wheezing out a laugh. "I—fuck Bunny, I'm close."

You whimper behind his hand and nod as if to say me too, and you're sure Izuku understands from the way he groans before he speeds up in all aspects. "Good. G-Good—cum for me baby, I know you can—"

Your toes curl into the marble floor as the coil in your gut snaps, knocking the wind out of you and sending you thrashing in Izuku's arms. You hear the greenette curse and shudder behind you, stuttering hips slowing to an eventual stop. Both of you stand there for a moment, comfortable interrupting the silence with nothing but your heaving breaths.

"You okay?"

You chuckle. It's dry and scratchy, and your lip throbs from biting it so hard, but it isn’t...aggravating, per-se. "You sound worse than me."

Izuku laughs at that, though it waters down as he pulls out with a hiss. "I don't think worse is the correct adjective here, Miss [Y/N].”

You snort. Back to “Miss [Y/N]” it is, then.

Your ears catch the distinct wail of ever-increasing sirens, but you don't think much of it until the side of Izuku's face starts flashing blue and red. Both you and the greenette falter, sharing a look.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

i wrote this while watching a hysterectomy in physio aah (also yes, the french police speak in english leave me alone skjdhfgk) — sun

[bluebird-imagines]

Hi :) can you do all the members(separately off) with a s/o who doesn’t really like their music?

[I can for sure give it a shot! This is my first ask so i do hope you enjoy it ^_^. Also I apologize for taking so long, my second vaccine shot kicked my butt]

Prompted: S/O who doesn’t like Gorillaz Music

Trigger Warnings: I can’t think of any for this one. Maybe I should state my horrible 2D accent! I apologize in advance. Of and I bring up the s*x, m*rder, party song. But all and all I don’t think there is anything else. Anyway enjoy!

~Murdoc Niccals ~

Let’s start this off with, at first he doesn’t even realize that you don’t like the Gorillaz music. He never even pieces two and two together. Why might you ask? Well for the first while you tolerated it for the Bass players sake.

After a few months, you decided it would be best to maybe leave Kong whenever the band you as practicing or rehearsing. You did a lot of stuff in this time. Coffee, read some good books, even went bowling on your own a few times. It was just nice to get away from that horrid music.

You didn’t have anything against the band members themselves! All of them were nice, it just you found the songs to be tedious and annoying.

When Murdoc finally started to take notice, he would ask you why you would avoid the band. Not seeming to understand the distaste of their masterpieces.

You lied most of the time, saying something stupid like “oh I am meeting up with friends” or “oh I would just be in the way”.

After a few more months, Murdoc finally forced you to sit and listen to their newest album. Mainly wanting to get your take on it before the official release.

You didn’t even get halfway through the first song before standing up and tuned off the player. You honestly felt like your ears would jump off your head if you ever heard that again.

“What the Bloody hell was that for?! We have like 43 more minutes to go”

“Murdoc, I don’t know how to tell you this. But babe…your music is a flaming hot dumpster fire and I don’t like it”

“……what? Why the hell are you with me then if you don’t like our music?”

“Because I may have underlining daddy issues according to the internet, but in reality I really love you Mudz…for you!”

“So playing bass isn’t sexy….underlining what? No wait getting away from the real point here. You never heard if Feel Good inc.? Or you know Clint Eastwood?Those were some of our best songs! What about To Binge? Empire ants? Any of them.

“Hmm, Feel Good inc? Let’s see it’s repeats itself a lot. Clint Eastwood? Haha other then the opening your song had nothing to do with Clint Eastwood. You posted To Binge aka forced 2D to sing it. Empire Ants? It just sucks”

“You suck! Are music is an art! It’s great! you are the problem here.”

“Never said I was! Your music is an art and it makes a lot of people happy. But to me, my ears did like it…but I can say this, I do like you a lot Murdoc.”

“ I am pretty great! Fine no more of our music…around your at least. But maybe sometimes”

“I can handle sometimes”.

~Noodle~

Noodle would completely understand your distaste for their music. She understands that not anyone is up for what they produce and she thinks that is okay!

For her as long as you don’t listen to any overly annoying songs around her. She really doesn’t care what you listen to.

She does however like to get your input on songs, even if you don’t like them. She just likes hearing different peoples ideas.

But with that being said, there is a 100% chance that she may try to convert you into liking Gorillaz. Of course, just simply by showing you different songs they have done. Like Punk or Humility, Feel Good inc. or El Mañana. Hell she has even shown you Latin Simone.

When she realized she was doing this, she quickly backed off and apologized.

“Sorry (Y/n). I didn’t mean to do that…I just kind of got excited and thought you would like the different genres we have done.”

“It’s okay Noodle, you realized your mistake! Honestly it’s not that the songs themselves aren’t inherently bad…it’s just well Murdoc’s bass playing is well…pretty bad in my opinion”

“Oh? How so if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well to me it sounds like well, a crusty old man who doesn’t know how to cut his nails and proceeds to scratch the surface of everything he touches. Also while we are at it 2D’s singing is really hard to understand!”

“Well Murdoc does forget to clip his nails from time to time and he doesn’t seem to like using a pick for his bass. But now you confused me with 2D”

“Listen I love you all! Especially you Noodle, but ooo boy, if you guys weren’t careful in sex murder party…it kind of sounds like 2D is singing dissolve the kids…which isn’t a pleasant image”

“Ah, I see what you mean, anything else?”

“Nope! Your guitar playing is wonderful! Love everything about you! Just your band is a bit much at times haha”

~Russel Hobbs~

Much like Noodle Russel would understand that their music wasn’t for everyone. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion. For example he was really into rap and it took a while for him to talk the whole band into listening to it.

Regardless unlike Noodle or Murdoc he wouldn’t make you listen to a single song of theirs if you didn’t want to.

Of course you would every now and then for their demo’s you just wouldn’t voice your opinion on it, since you couldn’t stand it.

Russel would also try his best to get into music that you like! Of course, if he doesn’t like one of the songs you like, you make a mutual agreement to not play it around him.

He even at one point turned it into a game that he really enjoyed playing with you! It was a game that helped the both of you set up playlists!

He would pick one of his favourite songs, if you thought it was okay, it went into the playlist. If he liked one of the songs you picked into the playlist!

“Okay how about, this song?”

“Let it go…from frozen? Really, we ain’t putting that in the playlist”

“Yeah you are right it was a stupid idea, it’s just been stuck in my head.”

“Haha fair enough, how about Rainforest by Noname?”

“Hmm, that’s actually not a bad one! We can throw it in! Alright space jam?”

“What is with you in movie songs tonight? Yeah we can throw in space jam”

“Sweet!”

“I can’t believe space jam beats our music out in that mind of yours…”

~Stuart “2D” Pots~

At first, 2D can not wrap his mind around the fact that you hate their music. More so he has never really had someone be with him for well just him before. Most of the one nightstands he had in the past was because of his popular singer status.

He does try his very best to get you into their music, of course, walking the fine line between shoving it down your throat and giving you air to breath with your own tunes.

That being said though, he doesn’t overly mind the fact that you like your own selection of music. He does find some of your songs enjoyable.

When he realizes most of the bands travel playlist consisted of a few of the bands own songs. He secretly takes the phone and changes up the playlist. He removes the Gorillaz songs and replaces them with songs you like.

Although you don’t like the bands music, that never truly stopped you from liking 2D’s singing. When he found that out he made a special song just for you. One where it was only on his keyboard and singing. He keeps it hidden so Murdoc doesn’t find it.

“(Y/n) I made yew something!”

“Oh sweet Satan please don’t tell me it was breakfast and that you burnt down the kitchen again!”

“What no! Besides that was a one time fing and I got a four month ban from going in fere fanks to Russel”

“Sorry…shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. What did you make 2D? You seemed really proud.”

“Oh well Um…I know yew don’t like our music and all…but I uh, I made yew a song, do ya want to ‘ere it?”

“Of course 2D, just because I don’t like your music, doesn’t mean I can’t be supportive of you”

“Well, this song isn’ really goin’ to be on an album, because I made it for yew”

“Aww 2D you didn’t have to~”

“But I wanted too!”

After he plays the song, you state that you adore it! This puts a huge smile on his face!

[jungwonenthusiast]

Friends Don’t Lie Ch. 7, 8, and Epilogue

A/N: This is the end of the series now I hope u guys enjoyed it, it was a lot of fun to write :)

Pairing: Jungwon x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: major character death

Based on: Stranger Things

Chapter 7

El

“Okay but before we get to the gate, we need to know where in the Upside Down he is.” Jake says then turns to you. “Can you do the radio thingy again?”

“That won’t tell me where he is.” you say. “I need to go to the bath.”

“The bath?” they all say.

After some explaining, Jake finally gets the jist.

“So what the hell is it?” Jay asks.

“It’s a sensory deprivation tank.”

“And why does she need that?” Heeseung says.

“Because it let’s her be alone with just her consciousness. I guess it’ll help her see more in the Void.” Jake explains.

“Well how do we get it to?” Sunghoon asks.

“We can’t,” Jake replies. “We have to make one.”

“Do we do it in an actual bath tub?” Niki asks.

“No,” Jake chuckles. “Heeseung do you still have that kiddie pool we used when we were babies.”

He nods.

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Jungwon puts duct tape over a pair of scuba goggles as the rest of the boys fill up the pool and steal the bags of salt the school keeps in case of a snow storm.

“Is this good?” he hands them to you and you nod.

“I’m gonna get these clothes wet.” you look down at your outfit that Jungwon took from Jooyoung’s closet.

“It’s fine, Heeseung brought some clothes you can change into later.”

You’re sitting together in a classroom and his knees are only an inch away from touching yours.

“You’re very brave, you know?” he says and you tilt your head. “Like way braver than any super hero.”

“Super hero?” you ask. “Didn’t Jake call me that once? Is that a mean name?”

“No no no,” he shakes her name. “It’s a compliment. A super hero is someone who can do things that other humans can’t, and they use their powers to save people. My favorite is Scarlet Witch.”

“Scarlet Witch.” you say and he nods.

“You’re way cooler than her though. We should give you a superhero name.”

“Like what?” you ask.

“Hmm,” he ponders for a moment and then his eyes light up. “How about Bird of the Night.”

“Why bird? Why night?” you frown. “Do I look like a bird?” you touch your face and he laughs.

“No no, you don’t. I chose bird because you remind me of an owl.” he says.

“An owl? Why?”

“Because owls are wise, and you know a lot of things,” he says. “And I chose night because we met at night.”

You nod, understanding his decision.

“What would your superhero name be?” you ask and he looks down.

“I don’t know, normal guy of the normal day.”

“What do you mean? Are you saying that you’re not super?” you frown.

He looks at you. “I don’t have any powers like you do.”

“Yeah you do,” you say and he raises an eyebrow. “You made me laugh, remember? No one has done that before.”

He smiles and looks away.

“Your cheeks are doing that thing again-” you point and he stands up abruptly.

“We should go check up on the other guys.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jungwon holds your hand for leverage as you step into the pool. You sit down in the warm water before pulling the goggles over your eyes.

You relax into the water and allow yourself to float peacefully.

You enter the part of your mind that you haven't visited in a while. It’s completely dark, and it goes on for miles and miles.

You approach a small wooden fort and read off the sign.

“Castle Sunoo.” you say and Heeseung scoots towards you.

“Can you go inside?” he asks frantically. “Is Sunoo there?”

You slowly pull away the white sheet, revealing a boy curled up in a ball and shivering from the cold.

“Sunoo.” you say and Heeseung gasps.

“Tell him- tell him I’m coming for him,” he says. “Tell him to stay put and that I’m coming.”

You kneel down next to Sunoo. He’s so pale and his lips are purple. His blond hair is stuck to his forehead and you gently push it away. His eyes open, but barely.

“You’re hyung, he’s coming for you.” you tell him.

“Heeseung hyung?” he croaks and it comes through the walkie talkie.

Heeseung’s heart twists. “I’m gonna find you Sunoo, just stay put. I- I love you so much.”

“He said that he’s gonna find you, and that he loves you.” you tell him.

“Hurry.” Sunoo whispers.

You begin to hear a low growling and just as you realize what’s happening, Sunoo and the castle begin to disintegrate into the air. You grab onto his hand.

“Sunoo no! Wait!” you cry. “Not yet not yet!”

But it’s too late. You’re alone again. In that deep dark abyss that you thought you left in the bad place. You can never leave it though, it’s a part of you.

You sit up and tug the goggles off your head.

“You okay?” Jungwon scrambles to grab your arm and you lean into him, shaken up from seeing Sunoo just disappear like that.

Heeseung pulls you into his arms, not caring that you’re getting his shirt soaked.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that must’ve been scary, you did so good.”

You rest your forehead on his chest, already feeling tired.

“Here you should get out now.” Jungwon interrupts and grabs your hand.

He pulls you out of the pool and wraps a towel around your shoulders. He hands you a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

“Let’s go to the bathroom so you can change.” He takes your hand and leads you to the lockers.

He turns around as you peel wet clothes off your cold body.

“So what’d you see?” he asks quietly.

“I saw him… in his fort.” you reply. “He was curled up on the floor. So blue. So cold.”

You tug the gray crewneck over your head and pull the jeans up your legs.

“Is he… okay?”

“No,” you say. “He doesn’t have much time left.” you tap on his shoulder and he turns around.

Your hair is dripping and pooling wet patches on the sweatshirt.

“Your hair is still wet.” he says and you shrug.

He grabs the towel and places it over your head, scrunching around to soak the water up. He throws the towel onto a bench and then pulls you against him, chest to chest. He rests his cheek on your hair and rubs your back.

“What?” you ask oblivious to his affection.

He pulls away. “I figured you were cold. I was trying to share some body heat.”

“Body heat.” you say and he nods.

You wrap your arms around his waist and embrace him. “I am cold.”

CHAPTER 8

A/N: There's a bit where Jungwon is thinking about how he wants to touch the reader. Please know that this isn’t sexual. I wanted to portray the overwhelming feeling of liking/loving someone so much that you just want to feel them all the time and be connected in a way that isn’t through words. This thought he has is endearing, not sexual.

“Well what do we do now?” Jake asks.

“We need to go to the Upside Down.” Heeseung says.

“How do even do that, we’ve been trying to figure that out forever.” Jay says.

“Okay well we know that the gate would create a lot of power right?” Sunghoon says. “Enough to disturb the electromagnetic field.” Jake nods. “So what if we…”

“Compass.” Jake says. “We need compasses.” he gets up and rushes out of the gym.

“Where are you going?” Niki calls out.

“Come with me!” Jake says and Niki dashes after him.

“So who’s gonna go?” Jungwon asks. “Someone needs to stay with El, she’s too tired.”

You shake your head. “I can go.”

He groans. “We’ve had this argument like three thousand times.

“Well she can be our weapon.” Sunghoon says.

“She’s human you know, not a machine gun.” Jungwon says.

“She’s been low on juice for a whole day now, what if she can’t help us.” Jay says.

“Why do you guys talk about me like I’m not here.” you rolls your eyes. “I can go, I promise.”

Jake and Niki come running into the gym with their hands and pockets full of compasses.

They throw them onto the floor.

“What the hell.” Heeseung sneers.

“Look at this.” Jake points at the arrow. “It’s pointing south.”

“What?” Sunghoon’s brows knit.

“The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, making north that way.” he points behind him. “But all of the compasses are pointing south.”

The group looks at him, confused.

“Remember, the gate is so powerful that it can manipulate the magnetic field. So whatever these compasses are pointing to is where the gate should be.” Jake explains.

“Ohhh,” the group vocalizes.

“Let’s go then.” Heeseung leaps to his feet and pulls his keys out of his pocket.

Jungwon helps you stand up and you link your arm around his as you walk to the car.

El

“Left,” Jake says. “Okay now keep going.”

Five minutes pass when Niki asks. “How are we gonna know when we get there?” And right on que, you all arrive at Hawkins National Laboratory. Jungwon feels your arm tense around his.

“The fuck is this place?” Niki asks, sitting on Jay’s lap.

“The lab, my dad told me it’s a government thing.” Jungwon says.

“We can’t go in there.” You whisper and Jungwon turns to you.

“Why not?”

“Bad place.” you say and he cocks his head.

“This is the bad place? This is where you come from?” he asks and you nod. “We’re probably gonna die if we go in then.”

“I don’t care, Sunoo’s in there, I need to find him.” Heeseung unlocks the door and you drop your head into your hands.

“No no no no no,” you mumble to yourself. Jungwon turns to you and grabs your hands as the boys quietly exit the car, snooping around the building gate.

“We have to go in, we don’t have any other choice.” he says.

“I don’t wanna go back. It’s too scary.” you whimper.

“I know, but we’ll be with you the whole time.” he tries to assure you. He hadn’t styled his hair today and it’s poking into his eyes. “Heeseung is tall, he can be our shield.”

You giggle.

“And once we save Sunoo and this is all over we can listen to my vinyls like I told you we would and I’ll tell my parents about you so that you won’t be a secret anymore and we can hang out all the time and- and I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Snow Ball with me.” he says timidly.

“What’s the Snow Ball?” you ask.

“It’s this stupid dance we have at our school. I’ve only ever been to homecoming but I thought it’d be fun for us to go.” he explains, still bashful.

You touch his cheek and he looks at you. “You should tell me what this is. Is it some kind of condition?”

“Oh,” he looks away and giggles. “It just means that I’m… I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” you ask him.

Jungwon

He knows what he wants to say.

“BECAUSE YOU’RE SO PRETTY AND COOL AND I NEVER THOUGHT I’D LIKE A GIRL UNTIL I MET YOU. I LOVE YOUR VOICE AND YOUR FACE AND EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. I WANT TO BE WITH YOU ALL THE TIME I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. I WANT TO TOUCH YOU AND HOLD YOU. I WANT TO SHOW YOU EVERYTHING I KNOW I THINK I LOVE YOU.”

But of course he doesn’t say that.

Instead he settles with a trembling “Because… I like you.”

You smile. “I like you too.”

His heart leaps but then he realizes that you don’t understand what he’s saying. “Who else do you like?”

“I like a lot of people.” you reply and he squints.

“Like who?”

“Mm, I like Jay and Jake and Sunghoon and Niki and Heeseung.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t like you like that.”

You tilt your head. “What do you mean?”

“Uhmm,” he thinks for a second. “I like you in a different way. Like like like.”

You Sit there, confused.

“Can you close your eyes?” he asks and you giggle.

“Why?”

Your giggle makes him giggle. “Because I can’t do this when you’re looking at me.”

“Okay.” you close them.

He takes a deep breath. You can do it, don’t be a pussy, he thinks. He leans into you and plants a short kiss onto your cheek.

Your eyes fly open and you look so surprised and adorable he could die.

Then he leans in again and pecks you gently on the lips. His heart is basically sprinting now.

You smile and he does too. Your smile is intoxicating. He wants to fall into it.

He doesn’t even get a chance to speak because of the banging on the window.

Jungwon opens the door.

“Come on, we need help!” Niki ushers you two into the lab.

“How’d you guys even get in?!” Jungwon whisper yells and you two run after him.

“Heeseung hyung found a back door. We literally almost died.” Niki says. He opens the door. “Here, go go.”

You guys run through the hallway. There’s two men passed out on the floor. Looks like Heeseung's work, Jungwon thinks.

“Go down the stairs!” Niki orders, leading you to this underground dungeon.

“What the fuck,” Jungwon whispers as he lays his eyes on the casm on the wall, covered in these indescribable vines and drippings of green goop.

He sees Heeseung stepping into a yellow hazmat suit. You run towards him and Jungwon follows.

“Here,” Heeseung hands you and Jungwon each a suit.

Jungwon’s palms are sweaty from all the adrenaline. “O-okay.” He tugs the suit up.

There’s banging and shouting coming from the glass chamber.

“Hurry, they’re coming!” Heeseung rushes everyone as you all get suited up.

You don’t waste a minute walking through the cavity.

El

You hold onto Jungwon’s hand as you and the boys run through the dark and foggy scene, hoping to get far enough that the staff can’t get you.

The Upside Down is just as you imagined. It’s Hawkins, but everything is wrong. It feels like death.

“The castle is this way!” Heeseung points to the dense forest ahead.

You don’t have time to freak out and think about how you’re in an alternate universe. The only thing keeping you tied to reality is Jungwon’s hand in yours.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You run through branches and leaves and eventually get to the fort.

Heeseung throws the curtain open to find Sunoo just as you saw him earlier, curled up and hopeless.

Heeseung drops to his knees and tries to shake him awake. The rest of the boys follow suit.

“Sunoo, Sunoo it’s me, it’s your hyung!” he yelps but Sunoo stays motionless.

“Sunoo? Sunoo man it’s us.” Jay says.

Jake takes his mask off and brings an ear to Sunoo’s face. “He isn’t breathing.”

“Fuck, oh my god-” Heeseung wails.

“It’s fine it’s fine,” Jake leans over Sunoo and holds two hands on his chest, “Just breathe into his mouth when I tell you to.”

Jake begins to pump on the boy’s chest as Heeseung rips his oxygen mask off. Your grip on Jungwon’s hand tightens anxiously.

“Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, okay go!” Jake says and Heeseung blows air into Sunoo’s blue lips.

“Keep going.” Jake says but Sunoo doesn’t wake up. “Please Sunoo,” tears begin to drip down Heeseung’s face. “I love you so much, I need you. You’re all I have.”

You notice Jungwon beginning to hiccup and you lean into him.

“Come one man,” Jake says.

Heeseung breathes one more time into Sunoo’s mouth when he coughs.

“Sunoo?! Sunoo it’s me!” Heeseung says, delighted. The whole group leans forward to get a better look.

Sunoo’s eyes crack open. “Hyung?”

Heeseung pulls the boy into his arms, petting his hair and kissing his forehead. All of the boys bear hug him but he’s too weak to fully understand what’s going on.

You’re still embracing Sunoo when you hear a low growl.

“Wait,” you say as the boys continue to celebrate Sunoo’s survival. “Shut up!” you say louder. “I hear something.”

You slowly stand up try to locate the sound. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“The demogorgon, it’s here.” you can hear them all hold their breath. You take your mask off and unzip your suit before stepping out of it, you feel like it’ll hold you back.

Just as you’re about to walk out, the monster tears at the fort and it comes tumbling down.

You muster some strength and send the thing flying before walking towards it. You know what this will do to you, but it’s the only choice you have. Maybe you’re a fool too, just like Jungwon.

You hold a hand out and muster all of the strength you have left. And as the Demogorgan slowly starts to disintegrate into the dirt, so does your spirit. You drop to the ground.

Jungwon

He runs to you.

He can’t hear anything over the thought of you.

He cradles you in his arms. He can't even imagine you leaving him.

Your eyes are barely open and your fingers are already turning to ash.

“El no! No no no!” he holds you against him, desperate to keep you here. “What about the Snow Ball! What about- what about everything?”

You smile a small smile and his heart shatters like glass, the small fragments puncturing every one of his organs.

He tugs his mask off. “Please no, I-” he holds your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly one last time.

You wipe the tears off his cheeks with your thumb. And just like that, you’re gone. Like you never existed. Just more flecks of dust in this dust filled world.

Jungwon doesn’t realize that he’s being dragged to his feet. He feels deaf like the scenes in war movies where a bomb goes off and they can’t hear anything but ringing. He’s stuck in a haze. It’s like being drunk but being drunk off of acetone and arsenic, not alcohol.

Jooyoung’s arms are around him for the first time in years. There are tears streaming down her face and she’s saying things that Jungwon can’t understand. All he can see is the look on your face before you disappeared. He could tell that you were in pain but you were hiding it with a smile. He cries into Jooyoung's shoulder, wishing that it was yours instead.

EPILOGUE

The police got involved, and then the FBI, then the government, then the president. Jungwon and the boys were on the news at least fifty times.

Sunoo seems fine and things are back to normal. Except for you. Sometimes he’ll catch glances of someone who looks just like you and have to do a triple take. All the clothes you ever borrowed from him are in a box in his closet. Everything reminds him of you: the basement, his walkie talkie, his bed, his posters, the living room, anyone with the same colored hair or eyes as you, even his own face reminds him of you. Every time he looks in the mirror he remembers the places you touched him. His cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, his waist, his hands, his lips.

He went through a phase of being angry about what you did. He hooked up with as many girls as he could, trying to forget you. But all it did was make him feel dirty, and like he was betraying you.

“You have to move on eventually,” Jay said.

But he didn’t think he could.

Know one could compare to you. No matter how smart or how popular or how cool, you were always better.

Jungwon’s washing his face when the light flickers. Then again, and again, and again in a peculiar pattern. He tries to remember the morse code he learned when he was in boy scouts. He stands there, trying to calm his heart as he translates the lights. I, M, I, S, S, Y, O, U.

I miss you.

taglist: @shawkneecaps @wonwoosh @strwberrydinosaur @ferxanda

[negasonicimagines]

Revelation; Part Two (NSFW)

All the warnings and details you'll need are in part one. Enjoy!

As soon as they return to the mansion, Yukio and Ellie immediately go to their room. Wade gets up from where he was sitting on the floor, slowly stepping aside. The girls rush in to comfort you but a wall of scent leaves them dizzy with pheromones.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here,” you weep. The scent of your slick seems more intense, but maybe you’re just more aware of how turned on you are. The girls strip off their super-suits, joining you on the bed.

You practically tackle Ellie, burying your face in her neck.

“Mm, even better than I imagined…” you moan, starting to roll your hips so your soaking cunt can get the friction it needs on her thigh. Ellie carefully pushes you off of her, and you recline in the position you were before.

“Easy, sharpshooter. What the fuck happened? How are you in heat?”

“S-suppressants, not antidepressants, fake father, Wade,” you slur, explaining as best as you can.

“Wade,” Ellie and Yukio realize in unison.

“So, right now, you’re having not only your first heat, but a heat after years of taking suppressants,” Ellie fills in the blanks, and both she and Yukio look horrified.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “Need you. Both of you.”

“Of course, baby,” Yukio accepts, looking over you. Neither of them have seen you this stripped down before.

“Wait,” Ellie stops her, and you. “How do we know you actually want this? You’ve been really uncomfortable with the idea of sex until now, what if it’s just the heat? You literally said you don’t want to have sex today, like, two hours ago.”

“You don’t trust me?” You question, looking absolutely devastated.

“Y/N,” Ellie groans. “Of course I trust you, I just don’t want to hurt you. I love you. We love you.”

“It hurts. Please love me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Look at her, Ellie. She needs us,” Yukio adds.

“Fine. But we start out slow. Very slow. And if I get even a whiff of doubt or discomfort, we stop. Understand?”

“I need…” you whimper, clutching at your stomach as it continues to twist in pain.

“What is it, baby?” Yukio asks.

“I don’t know,” you sob, burying your face in your hands and squeezing your thighs together. “Just need it so bad, please.”

Both girls quickly shed their underwear, like the urgency of the situation is finally hitting them.

“So, the roses I smelled earlier…” Ellie trails off, feeling even worse. Not only is it not some other omega, it’s your heightened state of emotion, a sign of how much you want her and Yukio both.

Yukio gasps.

“Oh, Ellie, we can finally…” Yukio trails off.

“You’re gonna have to give a little more detail than that, Yukes. We’ve been looking forward to a lot of different things.”

Yukio whispers in Ellie’s ear, and the girl turns red before nodding.

“What are you gonna do to me?” you wonder.

“Well, if you want, we could both use our mouths on you at the same time,” Ellie reveals.

“Please,” you try to convince them to give you what you need. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Yukio teases, like it’s not taking all her strength not to knot you right where you lay, propped wide open for the taking. It’d be so easy, and she could even try to have you to herself all week, and even though it’s probably impossible, you might have a baby. Oh, they’d be just the cutest, the perfect combination of her and you. What if you had twins? Or triplets? She’d never be able to tell them no once they flashed her your signature puppy eyes.

“Yukio,” Ellie snarls. “You’re panting. And drooling. She’s mine, too, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember,” Yukio snaps back.

“Alphas,” you whimper, and it’s like a switch flips. Their tongues battle for dominion over your most sensitive place, and your hips roll forward, desperate for more.

Ellie eventually concedes, giving your inner thigh some special attention that makes you squirm while Yukio devours you. The completely new sensations cause a tension to build in your stomach that you’ve only heard of.

“Oh my gosh, Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Ah! Ellie, Yuki- Oh, oh, oh!” you moan, embarrassed at how quickly you come undone.

“Oh, wow,” Ellie says. Yukio continues to lick up, well, everything, making the aftershock even more intense. “I- I didn’t realize you’d be that sensitive.”

“Never, ever, um, even by myself, ‘cause I never had any interest, because suppressants, so…”

“So, Yukio got to give you your first… Ever,” Ellie clarifies.

“U- Um,” you stutter, feeling a bit guilty for not making that clearer.

“You’re so adorable...” Yukio sounds almost reverent, and you taste yourself on her lips when they meet yours. You moan into the kiss, face burning under Ellie’s gaze and Yukio’s touch.

Ellie’s gaze turns into a glare as the kiss draws on, and soon that glare is joined by a growl that makes you gush. You pull back from the kiss, panting.

Yukio growls back, and your arousal intensifies even further, distracting the girls from their beginning turf war. You can’t help but wonder how many hickies you’re going to get in the next week.

“You really are an omega,” Ellie taunts.

“You like it when we growl?” Yukio adds.

They look like they’re ready to tear you to shreds in the best way.

“I guess it’s your turn,” Yukio remarks, sitting down next to you. “It’s still her first time, even if it won’t be the first time she-“

“Shut up,” Ellie snarls before going in for the kill, using her tongue to make you squirm and moan. She holds your hips down and your legs thrash around her, making you look the part of prey even more.

“Calm down,” Yukio suggests to you, stroking your hair. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you whine, bucking your hips despite Ellie’s grip on them.

“That’s a good girl, fuck her face,” Yukio praises, taking one of your hands and putting it on Ellie’s head, holding the other. “She really likes having her hair pulled,” Yukio whispers in your ear. You get chills, but you do as she says.

Ellie groans into you, and at this point you really are fucking her face, your other hand having found its way into her hair.

“Oh my gosh, fuck, Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whine before unraveling again, hips still rolling like your life depends on it.

“Fucking called it.” Ellie grins proudly. “And she called me it. I think I win.”

“Oh, whichever way you slice it, I’m the one that ate our brave little be- omega first and made her fucking weep slick, so… Whatever small victories you can find, I suppose,” Yukio giggles.

“Yeah, but I’ll be the one to fuck her first,” Ellie counters.

“You really think so? I think it depends on who can get a condom on faster,” Yukio retorts.

“You trust me to pull out, don’t you, omega?” Ellie wonders, winking at Yukio.

“O-Of course. I mean, with the suppressants, even if you didn’t, it’s a one in a billion chance,” you remind her.

“Can I use my fingers to help you get ready?” Ellie asks.

“Uh-huh,” you agree, nodding as she slides one in, pumping, followed by another. Your breathing gets heavy again as she hits that divine spot over and over.

“Imagine my fucking cock hitting right there,” she breathes to you.

“Don’t wanna imagine, wanna feel it,” you plead. She adds a third finger. “S-so full, alpha…”

Yukio hands trail along your body carefully, as if you’re a priceless artifact she’s trying to appraise. She seems okay with letting Ellie have this, despite the fight she put up before. It’s probably the best compromise, you all know, because your first orgasm is something Yukio has that Ellie can never, now.

“Is this still okay?” Ellie wonders as she slips her fingers out of you, sliding them into Yukio’s mouth. The girl moans, cleaning them off eagerly.

“Yes, I promise,” you agree, and Ellie positions herself, unintentionally teasing your entrance. “Ellie, please.”

Her hips snap forward, but she’s careful not to push her rather swollen knot in. It throbs every time it presses against your entrance, where every nerve in her body is begging her to shove it in.

The two of you sync up so quickly it’s almost romantic, you meet her thrusts perfectly and her cock does feel amazing when it pushes up against that spot deep inside. She’s practically got you folded in half as you whine and whimper and moan.

You instinctively start to rub your clit, but Yukio pulls your hands up and away.

“You’ve had your turn, let us have ours,” she tells you rather calmly.

“B-but it’s too good, I need…” you weep.

“Oh- Oh f-“ A strangled noise catches in Ellie’s throat and you feel her cum spurt into you as she hastily pulls out. “Uh- Oh. Oh, wow.”

Yukio moves around you to get a look at whatever Ellie’s blushing over.

“You should be ashamed,” Yukio teases, playfully popping Ellie’s shoulder. “Giving our innocent little omega a creampie her first time. She looks really cute with you dripping out of her, though. Almost good enough to eat. Almost.”

Yukio pulls out her own member, and you watch her stroke herself, Ellie mouthing at her neck between their passionate kisses. Her strokes speed up gradually until ribbons of her orgasm splatter right onto where you’re starting to feel neglected, with a soft little moan from her that makes you throb even more.

“Fuck, it’s so pretty. Sit up, Y/N, look,” Ellie encourages. Her cum has mostly flowed out of you and onto the sheets, while Yukio’s paints you. Speaking of Yukio, she trails a finger up your tarnished slit, sliding it into your mouth. You taste the salty sweetness of all your juices combined and give a pleased hum, almost not wanting to let her finger go.

“Hmm… Now it looks good enough to eat,” Yukio confirms. “Wanna try to share again?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie agrees. The two girls lick up the mixture of their cum and your arousal as you tremble, squeaking and whining more than you actually moan, too sensitive to do much of anything other than lie there and take whatever they want to give.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and your toes curl as you’re finally allowed release once more, but they don’t stop, despite your shaking.

“A-Alphas, what are you… What… I… Oh, oh, please,” you weakly implore them, so far gone that you’re not even sure if you’re asking them to stop or keep going.

After another orgasm, they come back up to check on you.

“So- So much,” you say, in response to “Are you okay?”

“So, I’m gonna go with water break time,” Ellie chuckles, opening up a bottle before opening your mouth with her hand. You let her help you drink.

“Good girl,” she praises, and you blush as Yukio stares you down.

“You should have a bath, too,” she suggests. “We can all take it together.” The jacuzzi sounds great for your aching muscles.

“Can you walk?” Ellie asks. She wasn’t particularly rough with you, but considering nothing that big’s ever been up there before…

You nod, already starting to feel normal, or, well, at least at what’s probably the baseline of this whole heat thing. You get up from the bed and immediately collapse into a heap on the ground, knees having turned to actual jelly at some point over the past hour.

The girls can’t help but snicker before helping you back into bed.

“I’ll go draw the bath. Your cuddle time got cut off earlier,” Yukio remembers.

“You’re doing amazing,” Ellie praises you once more, fingers running through your hair and stroking your face. “Such a good girl. Such a good omega. My omega.”

“My alpha,” you whisper back, before burying your nose in her neck. Ellie tightens her embrace.

“Thank you for letting us take care of you like this. You’re being so brave, sharpshooter, I- I know you were really nervous. I want you to know, y’know, as happy as I am you’re an omega— And that’s really, really happy, by the way. —I’d be just as happy right now if you were a beta. I love you. We love you, and we’re so grateful you trusted us with this.”

“Thank you. You smell good and I love you,” you tell her, not able to articulate much beyond that.

“You too,” she chuckles.

Yukio emerges from the bathroom, and Ellie helps you hobble over, both girls giggling and giddy at your stumbling.

“So, we’re probably gonna have to take another week off, huh?” Yukio notes, trying to sound sympathetic, but both girls can’t help their proud grins at how they’ve already fucked you to pieces and they’ve barely even started. This week is gonna be great, and so will the next, blissful and full of aftercare.

“Mhm,” you whimper. The girls help you into the bath, stripping off their remaining undergarments before joining you.

The warm water is such a comfort that your eyes involuntarily slip shut. Its embrace soothes your sore muscles, and your breathing slows. Yukio starts carefully scrubbing your arm with a lathered up loofah, holding your wrist like it’s the most fragile, priceless thing in the world.

“Hm?” You open your eyes, but Ellie slides your eyelids down with two fingers, stroking your cheek after.

“Shh… Just let us take care of you, okay? You’re always protecting us, keeping the den tidy, and you took us so well… Just relax, now.”

You do as you’re told and relax.

Ellie joins in washing you while Yukio hums softly.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” Ellie murmurs, the soft washcloth she’s using drifting down from your sensitive neck to your far more sensitive chest. You give a shallow, shaky sigh as each girl cleanses a breast, chills spreading throughout your body. Your heart flutters when Ellie’s washcloth meets your inner thigh under the water.

Yukio’s hand rests against your stomach, more specifically, your uterus.

“Yukes…” you sigh.

“I know,” she says quietly. “I was just thinking.”

It’s a bittersweet moment, but Yukio ends it before the bitter overcomes the sweet by gently washing your stomach with the loofah she was holding before. The girls switch positions and you whine needily. Your infertility can be discussed later, when tensions aren’t quite so high.

“Oh, sweetpea, are we doing something wrong?” Yukio questions teasingly.

“N- No,” you admit, brows furrowing. “I just- I-“

You’re already too blissed out to string together a coherent sentence, but you need more.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Ellie understands. You keep your eyes closed as fingers slip up and down your slit, leaning into the touch. The steam of the bath blends yours and your alphas’ scents, clouding your perception of where each girl is. You try to get a peek, but Ellie quickly, gently reminds you: “Eyes closed.”

Your chest is slowly, sensually massaged, the palms of whichever girl is doing so rubbing up against your nipples perfectly.

The alpha who was teasing you below the water before now slides her fingers inside you, making you gasp softly.

“Hmm… Good omega,” Yukio murmurs, closer to your ear than you thought she was, before nipping at it. You yelp in surprise, but the sensation has you feeling even tinglier. You lean towards Yukio, wanting to obey their limitation of your sight, but needing the comfort of knowing where each of them is. You cling to her arm, she’s now only massaging one breast and using the other hand to stroke your face.

The fingers inside you, which you’ve determined by process of elimination are Ellie’s, curl into that spot, hard, and you moan before you can quiet yourself.

“I think someone’s starting to feel ignored…” Yukio jeers, and you hear an indignant “Hmph!” from Ellie. “How about this?”

Yukio pries you off of her, and you hear movement in the water. Soon after, she pulls your back to her chest, allowing you to recline. The feeling of the alpha’s skin against yours is heavenly. She starts to massage your chest again, and Ellie resumes her activities as well, now from in between your legs.

“This is perfect,” Ellie agrees. “You are. Both of you.”

“Thank you,” you and Yukio both sigh.

You start to get restless as the girls continue to stimulate you, letting out little whimpers that sound more like impatience than pleasure.

“What is it, love?” Yukio wonders, so close to your ear again. You shudder before answering.

“Want, um… Um… Y-you… You know.”

“To cum?” Ellie asks.

“Y-yeah, but…” You rock against Yukio’s hardness, which is pressed against your back.

“Ngh, oh, okay, yeah,” Yukio agrees. “Lean back.”

You lean back, moving up and bracing yourself against the rim of the jacuzzi before sliding down onto Yukio’s dick, eyes rolling back as you’re filled by an alpha once more.

“W-wait, with this position, we could…” Ellie trails off, and you can sense Yukio’s smirk.

“I know.”

“W- What is it?”

“Well, uh, if you’re okay with it, Yukio and I could try to fit inside you at the same time,” Ellie suggests.

“That sounds nice, but…”

“But?”

“First time having Yukio,” you quietly say.

“Oh… Okay, babe, that makes sense. Maybe later?”

You nod eagerly, and Yukio starts to move a little, hooking her hands under your knees to maintain more control over you.

“E- Ellie.”

Yukio growls.

“N- No, I just… Ellie, could you rub my-“ You’re cut off by a moan that’s a mix of pleasure and pain as Yukio thrusts harder, resenting the lack of attention. “A- Alpha, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

“I- I know, sorry. Such a good omega,” Yukio quickly apologizes, sprinkling kisses all over your neck and shoulders as she takes it down a notch. Ellie summons the courage to touch you despite Yukio’s possessive burst, and you’re on cloud nine once again. “You feel so good.”

Eyes still closed, you’re caught off guard when Ellie kisses you, but you respond quickly, tangling your fingers in her hair and moaning into her mouth.

“Love you,” Ellie whispers against your lips before kissing you some more.

“El, go faster, I think she’s close,” Yukio tells your shared lover, and she obeys. Your moans rise in pitch and volume but due to your position there’s not much you can do other than take what you’re given.

“Yukio, Yukio, Yukio,” you whine in sync with her thrusts, squirming in an attempt to meet both Yukio’s motions and Ellie’s hand.

You don’t last much longer, and the way you tighten around Yukio causes her to finish as well, burying her face in your neck and groaning; likely resenting the fact that she can’t bury her teeth there, not yet.

“Well, so much for gentle aftercare,” Ellie chuckles, stroking your cheek, which honestly feels as sensitive as the rest of you.

“S-sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Ellie helps you off of Yukio, and you nuzzle into her, embracing her.

“You two are the best alphas ever,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy again.

“We’re the only alphas you’ve had,” Ellie skeptically responds. You whimper at the perceived rejection. “Oh, but thank you. You’re sweet.”

“More than just sweet,” Yukio argues, pulling the plug on the jacuzzi. Ellie holds you as the tub drains, so you don’t get too cold, while Yukio hunts down some towels and your robes. Pink satin for her, black flannel for Ellie, and a plush F/C one is yours.

The girls assist you as you get out of the tub, wrapping you in your robe and helping you to bed before equipping theirs.

Being bundled between them is enough to keep the worst of your heat pains at bay.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You wonder, and the girls chuckle endearingly.

“Yes, Y/N,” Ellie permits, but it seems as though you could’ve done so or at least asked much sooner, based on her tone. “I said yes.”

Your eyes stay closed, so heavy that you don’t even wanna bother yet.

“Babe, stay awake. We need to talk,” Ellie insists.

“About what?” Yukio asks curiously.

“The, uh.. The thing Wade stopped her from doing.”

“Jus’ thinking about it,” you correct.

“And the Supreme Court is ‘just thinking’ about overturning Roe v. Wade. It’s still a fucking problem,” Ellie argues.

You shake your head.

“I have real medicine now, I’ll be fine.”

“You still hid it from us,” Yukio says softly, tearfully. “We- We failed you. You didn’t feel like you could tell us, your alphas.”

“Being my alphas is what made me not want to tell you. Because you can’t- Because- Because I knew it would be torture for you both if I had a problem you couldn’t fix; a need you couldn’t provide. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Sharpshooter…” Ellie looks heartbroken, and the devastation that both girls reek of makes you want to lock yourself away (or worse) so that you’ll never hurt them again.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I never meant for you to find out.”

“That’s not the problem here,” Ellie disagrees.

“Isn’t it? If you two never found out, you wouldn’t be unhappy about anything right now. I ruined this.”

“No,” Yukio snarls, wrapping her arms tighter around you, as if they can protect you from yourself. “You’re good. We… I told you, we were the ones who made you feel like it wasn’t safe to be honest with us. We’re proving you right the longer we talk about this before you’re ready to. Don’t you agree, Ellie?”

Ellie nods, seeming to finally understand.

“Can you at least promise that if there’s any other time you feel like you did then, you’ll talk to someone you trust, even if it’s not us?” Ellie requests.

“I can do that,” you concede.

“Thank you,” both girls reply, and Ellie moves a little closer, maneuvering her arms so that she’s embracing both you and Yukio, who’s spooning you.

Between the drowsy scent of petrichor, the nostalgic scent of a campfire, and your own relaxing lavender aroma, the three of you are finally soothed, and able to rest before continuing to contend with your first heat.

The next week is nothing short of an absolute fuckfest. Sure, you all take breaks for food, water, showers, et cetera. But, on what should be the final night of your heat, something causes you to stir.

The absolute need that came with your heat had waned over the week, but now it seems to be back with full force. You squirm in your half-sleep, trying to ignore it, but sense that your girls are already awake.

“Baby,” one of your alphas whispers. You’re draped across them both, all of you naked and entangled. You’re not even sure where you end and they begin right now, let alone which is which.

“Can we touch you?”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

Their hands wander comfortingly, making it easier for the sandman to lure you back into his arms, but one of the alphas is bold enough to slip her fingers inside of you, sliding them right back out for some reason.

“Wow…”

“That is… A lot of slick.”

Oh.

You whine, spreading your legs for whichever one of them will touch you, it really doesn’t matter. You’re guided into one of their laps, whoever it is feels huge with no prep.

“Please just knot me so we can sleep, s’not like I can get pregnant anyways,” you request.

“Mmkay, sharpshooter, if that’s what you want.” So, it’s Ellie fucking you. That’s nice. Hers is a little shorter than Yukio’s, but she’s thicker. You fidget around, adjusting to her girth before finding that perfect angle and just bouncing.

“You look so pretty riding our alpha like that,” Yukio quietly praises, making you shiver. She plays with your nipples, hardened in the cool night air, while she touches herself. You resent your current position for limiting your sight of the other alpha, but you wouldn’t trade Ellie’s embrace for anything. “Touch that clit for us, won’t you? Cum all over her cock. Maybe you’ll even squirt again. That angle is normally what does it for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Daddy,” you sigh, obeying.

“No, baby, Ellie’s your daddy. I’m your mommy.”

“M-Mommy,” you whimper, continuing to squeak and moan for your two lovers as you clench harder and harder around Ellie, sinking your teeth into her scent gland as you three finish, nails digging into her already scratched-up back. When you relax, Ellie pushes her knot in. “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to without asking,” you apologize, pulling away with a mouth full of blood that both girls are just dying to taste.

“No, babe, you know I wanted you to do that.” Ellie kisses your lips, cleaning them. “Don’t worry. Can you bite Yukio, too?”

“Of course! But, um, how am I gonna get to her?”

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” Yukio reassures you both.

“But- But you’re mine, too,” you insist. “I’m yours, remember?”

“Baby, of course I remember. Maybe- Maybe I could just bite you for now, and then you can bite me and Ellie can bite you in the morning? That way everyone has a turn.”

“When are you two gonna bite each other?”

“We can do that in the morning, too,” Yukio explains. In her drowsiness, she’d forgotten that part. “Are you ready?”

“Y-Yes, Alpha,” you stutter, because while you’re ready, you’re still nervous. Yukio picks a spot with her teeth, gently pressing, as if to ask you and Ellie, ‘Right here?’

You nod.

“That’s good, Yukes,” Ellie agrees, and the other girl sinks her teeth in deep.

You moan in pleasurable pain, and Ellie’s hands grab at your hips, feeling you flutter around her.

“Fuck,” she snarls, tensing up with you until Yukio’s no longer clamped down on your neck. The pink-haired girl licks up the blood, and you start to writhe, turned on all over again.

“One more time?” you request meekly, like Ellie’s dick isn’t literally locked inside of you.

“Of course,” Ellie consents, needing it just as much as you do.

Despite your now-limited range of motion, you carefully gyrate your hips. Yukio presses against you from behind, embracing you but also letting a hand slip down, fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“That’s it, ride that knot like a good little omega,” Yukio taunts you, and you can feel her touching herself again.

“Your good little omega,” you moan.

“Ours indeed,” Ellie reminds you both, fucking up into you as you continue. Your breathing deepens and you clutch Ellie’s shoulders tighter, burying your face in the crook of her neck once more. “Close, sharpshooter?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the three of you entangled once again as Yukio strokes her cock and your clit, the heat radiating off of all of you intensifying your scents. “So close, wanna cum so bad,” you beg.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Yukio encourages. “Cum all over her.”

You whine as Yukio’s strokes become quicker for the both of you. Feeling the hand she’s using to get herself off brush against you turns you on even more, just knowing she’s getting off on this makes it even better. You can feel Ellie pulse inside you as her breathing also becomes labored.

“Cum with me, omega, please,” Yukio murmurs against the back of your neck, and you shudder, finally finishing. “Good girl… Good omega… Good girl…” Yukio sighs praise as she comes undone as well, Ellie’s orgasm falling somewhere in between yours and Yukio’s.

Ellie reclines with you on top of her, with Yukio nestled between her arm and her body. Both alphas embrace you, and the three of you finally fall back asleep.