#and no amount of fiddling with the first sentence or two will change that

[beneathsilverstars]

spent the entire hour just redoing the first sentence of the fic don’t talk to me

i wanted to write fic bc i haven't gotten to in almost two weeks but it's late enough that i was like ughh i really should just go to bed... but then my wife told me they're watching The Thing in the bedroom SO now i have the perfect excuse to not go to bed until the movie's over >:3

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 3/?)

The fire consumes everything it touches, turning what was into ashes. Curiously, Silco also leaves a trail of destruction in his wake.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, creampie, blood and violence, biting, threat of death, choking, canon-typical Silco violence, death of secondary characters being referenced, possessive behavior, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut). Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1 Part 2

Pay attention to the tags. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or explicitly intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Once again: this is NOT a fluffy romance. Our protagonist has her own issues, and to be clear, while there are violent themes, Silco would never harm his dove. You have been warned—proceed at your own risk.

"I heard that Silco seems to be sponsoring a prostitute."

The bottle on its way to your lips stopped midway. Kate's words echoed like thunder, even though they had been spoken in an almost murmured tone. Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for a sentence like that, not even the most horrible, bitter drink Zaun had to offer.

Beside you, Kate seemed almost uncomfortable. There was no accusation in her voice, but something about her tone overflowed with sadness, perhaps even anguish. The kind of look that made it clear she already knew the answer even before making the statement. She still insisted on visiting you, despite the apparent control Silco had over the brothel.

The brothel, which until two months ago had been your refuge—a place where the outside world and all its horrors were muffled by artificial lights and drunken laughter—now felt more like a prison. A suffocating space filled with glances you didn't want to interpret. That's why, on the night Kate showed up, you suggested going somewhere else. Somewhere Silco's shadow didn't hang over you.

Vander's statue was a landmark. For many, it symbolized the resistance and hope that had long since vanished. A kind of silent guardian of Zaun, a reminder of better days. Some people even wished the metal structure would come to life, that Vander would return to protect his people. But to you, that monument meant something deeper. Vander had saved you once. You'd made a promise to him—a promise you had yet to fulfill.

"Yeah... I heard about it."

"It's you, isn't it?" Kate shot back immediately. Her voice was soft, almost delicate, like a confirmation rather than an accusation.

You couldn't look at her. The thought of being called Silco's prostitute made something inside you churn, heavy as lead. Dealing with him in the privacy of a room was one thing, but carrying that title... it made you feel dirty in a way no amount of long baths could wash away.

"How did you find out?"

Kate sighed, fiddling with the ballerina pendant on her necklace. She always did that as a way to calm herself, an almost involuntary motion. "I did my research."

"You should've been a cop, not a designer." you tried to joke, but the humor fell flat, hanging in the air with no response, no laughter. Kate didn't take the bait. She simply said your name, with a sweetness that hurt, like she was trying to soothe a wounded animal. Reluctantly, you finally looked at her. That's when you noticed the worry etched into her green eyes, a worry you didn't feel you deserved.

"Don't worry," you said, your voice hoarse, almost harsh. "It could be worse. Silco could've just kidnapped me."

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still in danger."

You let out a low grumble, almost childish, like a petulant kid trying to dodge a scolding. She was right, but you preferred to live in ignorance.

"If I figured out who the 'prostitute' was, others can too. And if the chemical barons realize Silco has any interest in you, they'll try to use you to get to him."

"I know how to protect myself, Kate."

"From pickpockets and creeps, maybe. Not from assassins."

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

The words escaped your mouth with force, your voice laced with irritation, hitting a sharper tone than you'd usually use with her. You stood from where you'd been sitting at the foot of Vander's statue, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of control. But, if you were honest with yourself, the idea that you still had control was a cruel joke. Overnight, your life had taken a turn you hadn't planned for—or asked for. To say you were angry would've been a massive understatement. And now Kate was pressing all the wrong buttons.

"Come with me to Piltover."

Her voice was firm, serious, but there was something more. A kind of unshakable hope glimmered in her green eyes as they locked onto yours, as if she could see something you couldn't. And there was something else... something that made your stomach twist. Affection. "Alright, so the place I'm staying in is the size of a shoebox," Kate continued, a small, awkward smile appearing on her lips, "But we can make it work together. Silco has no power in Piltover."

Those words. That tone. That damn hope. They doused your anger like a bucket of ice water. What remained was pure, raw shock as you stared into her emerald eyes. You saw it. The resolve. The conviction. And damn it, she was willing to risk everything... for you. Suddenly, it all made sense: why she kept coming back, even knowing the risk. Even indirectly challenging Silco. Because, in her mind, you were worth it.

Kate spoke your name again when she noticed your mind wandering for too long, her tone sweet as honey. "Please, come with me."

At some point, the lines had blurred for Kate, and considering Silco's actions, this practically put her neck on a silver platter. Bile rose in your throat, and you wanted to vomit.

"It's better if we don't see each other anymore." your voice came out dry, cutting. The tone was rehearsed, even if you hadn't prepared these words. You took a step back, putting space between the two of you. "Whatever you think we have, it's nothing more than professional."

Kate's eyes widened, shock written across her face as if you'd slapped her. The pain that followed nearly made you falter, but you pressed on. You had to, for her sake.

"I can't believe you're naive enough to think I feel something for you, let alone want to run away."

"What?" Kate whispered, her voice barely audible, but you saw it. You saw her eyes start to glisten with tears.

"I pity you." your voice was a venomous whisper. "Falling for a prostitute? Seriously? Kate, I expected better from you."

"Why are you acting like this?" her voice trembled, heavy with pain. "This isn't you."

"What do you know about me?" you shot back, your voice as sharp as shattered glass. "Oh, come on, sweetheart... it was all an act. Did you really think I cared? It was in my best interest to keep some naive girl paying my way. All I had to do was say a few sweet words."

She called your name again, her voice breaking, a final, desperate attempt to pull you back from the edge. A futile attempt.

"But now I don't need you anymore."

You saw it. The exact moment the first tear slipped from her eyes, just before Kate turned and ran. Without another word. Without looking back.

You stood there, motionless, like an extension of Vander's statue. Frozen. Empty. Guilt weighed on your shoulders like lead, but you didn't allow yourself to feel anything beyond the void. If Silco was horrible, you were a monster. Maybe that's what you deserved. Maybe, in the end, you and he were cut from the same cloth.

But your self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

"Breaking hearts, are we?" Silco's voice resonated in your ears, low and dripping with acidic humor. "And here I thought you were the merciful one."

The surprise lasted only a second when you heard his voice—low, laden with that familiar arrogance that made the air around you feel heavier. For a moment, you almost believed it was just in your head, a ghost of guilt or confusion tormenting you. But a single glance was enough to confirm it wasn't your imagination. Of course not. It was obvious Silco would know where to find you.

Especially since you'd abandoned the brothel in the middle of your shift. Someone had likely informed him that his latest acquisition had walked out unexpectedly.

The scent of burnt tobacco hit you before you fully saw him, and you closed your eyes briefly, trying to control the surge of emotions bubbling up inside you. Anger, frustration, maybe even a touch of resignation. You inhaled deeply, as if the tobacco in the air could numb whatever was consuming you. But it was futile.

The bottle was still in your hand—a bitter consolation. You lifted it to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat. The mediocre alcohol was doing its job but was nowhere near enough to drown out the chaos in your head.

"How long have you been spying on us?" your voice came out calmer than you'd expected, a stark contrast to how you felt inside.

It was impressive, even to yourself. You should've been furious; after all, everything in your life had started crumbling because of him. Because of his manipulations, the insidious control he wielded over everyone and everything around him. The last month had been hell, and Silco had been the chief architect of your downfall.

And yet, here you were. Talking to him. Not smashing the bottle over his head.

"Long enough to understand what you're trying to do." he finally said. His voice was calm, but it carried an undertone of subtle disdain, as if the situation were almost amusing to him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Silco move slowly, leaning against the base of Vander's statue. He crossed one ankle over the other, assuming a relaxed posture that seemed devoid of any threat. But you knew better. Beneath the casual façade, there was an almost palpable tension, like that of a snake ready to strike at any moment.

"Driving her away, keeping her safe... all so I have no reason to go after her." he continued, his eyes boring into your back, savoring each syllable in a way that sent a chill down your spine. "Such nobility on your part. A shame it's all for nothing."

The words hung in the air between you, as dense as the cigar smoke swirling around him. You wanted to retort, but your throat went dry, the words catching somewhere between pride and fear. He knew. He knew exactly what you were doing. And worse, he seemed to find it amusing.

Without warning, he pushed off the statue and took a step toward you, closing the already narrow gap between you. Your heart leapt in your chest, but you stayed rooted to the spot, your hands gripping the neck of the bottle, channeling your fury into the inanimate object.

He noticed. Of course, he noticed.

"Drinking won't make it go away." he said, his voice now almost gentle. Almost. The soft tone only made the harshness of his words cut deeper.

You barely had time to process the emotions boiling within you when Silco reached out and took the bottle from your grasp. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your fingers stretching out in a nearly desperate attempt to reclaim it. But he held it out of your reach with an ease that made your blood boil.

Your gaze locked onto his, and like a thread on the verge of snapping, you finally broke. It was as if everything you'd been holding back had been unleashed all at once, a storm of emotions sweeping away any control you had left. Before you could even think about the consequences, your body had already made the decision.

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the space, the liquid spilling onto the floor in a dense pool alongside the faint clatter of the cigar falling. A small fire ignited mere inches from your feet. It was that sound, along with the smell of smoke, that finally pulled you back to reality.

Your arm was raised, caught firmly in Silco's grasp. His fingers wrapped around your wrist with enough force to stop you but not to hurt. You realized just how close you were to his face—mere centimeters away from striking him.

And that's when you saw it: his face. For the first time, Silco looked genuinely surprised, frozen in place. His good eye was wide, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened. It was almost impossible to imagine a man like him with such an expression. But the moment didn't last. Like a mask falling and quickly being replaced, his expression shifted in an instant. The shock gave way to his familiar façade of coldness and absolute control.

You, however, didn't back down. There was no regret in your eyes, no hesitation in your movements. Your emotions were a haze, but you kept them locked behind a hardened, defiant expression.

"Leave her out of this, Silco!" you said, your voice low but carrying a weight that cut through the silence like a blade. The words were laden with something you couldn't quite name—anger, sorrow, perhaps something deeper. "I'm the one you want? Well, here I am, right in front of you."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the space between you. Silco didn't respond immediately, but his eyes didn't leave yours, as if he were analyzing every nuance of your expression. Searching for something—maybe doubt, maybe fear.

In a swift, precise movement, he pulled you forward, erasing the distance between you until your body was pressed against his. The heat radiating from you was palpable, even through the layers of clothing, and the subtle scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume filled his senses, igniting something you couldn't quite interpret.

His other hand moved just as firmly, gripping your chin with enough force that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The touch was almost rough, a blend of control and anger that reverberated through you down to your bones. Silco's mismatched eyes burned with a fierce intensity, so piercing it seemed impossible to look away.

"Don't test me." he growled, his voice low and laced with latent danger. "My patience has its limits."

And then, with calculated abruptness, he let you go. The movement was so sudden that you almost stumbled backward. He stepped away, creating space between you as if he needed to regain composure, though his arrogant demeanor remained intact.

"What are you going to do?" your head tilted slightly to the side, your tone laden with challenge. "Kill me?"

You weren't naive. His threats weren't empty words. You knew Silco was holding himself back—why exactly, you weren't sure. Perhaps it was the mounting tension between you, an invisible thread that seemed to pull you closer to something as destructive as it was inevitable. Anyone else who dared to attack him would have already lost an arm, or worse.

And yet, you didn't back down.

"Or maybe with me, it's different." your voice dropped to a sharp whisper as you took another step forward, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. "Because you know, Silco, that no matter how much you threaten me, I doubt you have the guts to actually do anything to me."

Silco's eyes narrowed at your words.

"You think you know me, don't you?" he shot back, his voice laced with disdain. "You think you understand what I want, what I'm capable of."

"Then tell me if I'm wrong."

It was you who closed the distance between the two of you, ignoring the crunch of glass shards beneath your feet with each step or even the crackling fire nearby. The phantom of his grip still burned on your wrist, but you didn't rub it. You wouldn't show weakness—not now.

Every muscle in his body seemed tense, ready to strike, but he didn't move. He didn't raise a hand to push you away, nor did he take a step back. Instead, he let you approach, let you bridge the gap until you were so close you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

"You're right. With you, things are... different." he admitted, his voice now almost regretful, as though confessing something he hated to admit even to himself. "But don't be mistaken. I'm still the man who built an empire on blood and fear, and I wouldn't hesitate to remind you of that if necessary."

The shadows cast by the light made Silco's silhouette even more intimidating. His orange eye seemed to pierce into your very soul, devouring you, like staring into the abyss and having it stare back.

"Go home." his face was mere inches from yours, close enough for you to see every line, every scar etched into his marked skin. He was trying to maintain composure; that much was clear. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

You raised your chin, your body radiating a fierce pride that defied any implicit threat in Silco's words. Any sense of self-preservation had already been smothered by the chaotic mix of emotions boiling inside you: burning anger over Kate's situation, frustration with Silco's manipulations, and, above all, the overwhelming attraction clouding your judgment.

You knew you were tempting fate at this point, provoking the beast, pushing Silco to a dangerous edge. But honestly? You didn't care. Maybe, deep down, a part of you wanted to see how far he would go, how much he could tolerate your words before finally losing control.

"I didn't think a simple fuck would destabilize the great Eye of Zaun this much." your voice dripped with sweet venom, every word as sharp as a blade. You saw the muscle in Silco's jaw tighten, and it only fueled your audacity, like pouring gasoline on a fire. "A whore was enough to make you lose your grip... how pathetic."

The words came out drenched in scorn, and you savored every syllable as though you were exposing an open wound, pouring salt on it with relish.

You barely had time to react before you were slammed against the wall, the cold surface digging into your back with force. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could even try to recover, Silco's hand was at your throat, squeezing just enough to send a wave of panic coursing through your entire body. Your mouth opened instinctively, searching for the little air you could manage to pull in, your chest rising and falling in short, desperate movements.

Your hands shot upward, but not to fight him—you knew that would be useless. Instead, you grasped his wrist, your fingers digging into his skin with force, your nails leaving small marks. The touch was deliberate, as if trying to remind him that you would still fight back, even if the odds weren't in your favor.

"You want to know what's pathetic?" he growled, his voice low and dripping with menace. "You." his thumb pressed firmly against the pulse point on your neck, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath your skin. "I could snap your pretty neck and leave your body here for the rats to feast on."

The words were cold, cutting like steel against your skin, but there was something else beneath them. A suffocating heat seemed to hang between you, an almost palpable field of tension. It was dark, twisted—a desire that seemed to want to consume you both. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, a suffocating dance of anger and something more, something neither of you was willing to admit.

"Keep talking." he murmured, his voice dripping with dangerous, lascivious undertones. "I want to hear what insults that pretty mouth of yours will throw at me."

Your body betrayed you in the worst possible way. The initial fear that had tensed your muscles began to shift, the adrenaline coursing through you dulling the pain and heightening every sensation. Your heart pounded in your ears, each beat echoing like a warning of how precariously your life hung in his grip. But it wasn't just fear making your heart race—it was him.

Silco was close. Too close. His body practically covered yours in that position. His scent filled your senses, erasing any remnants of rational thought. His eyes burned into yours, that hypnotizing contrast—one eye filled with the intensity of anger, the other an empty abyss, equally devastating.

And then you saw it in those piercing mismatched irises. Hidden beneath the anger. An unmistakable flicker of desire. It was raw, overwhelming, and dangerously familiar. You recognized it because you felt the same. Your body seemed to plead against your will, the proximity igniting something dark and unspoken between you.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out in a rough whisper before you could stop them.

"I hate you."

Your voice broke, but not from weakness. There was weight in it, a hatred so dense it seemed to poison the air around you—a hatred for everything he was and for everything he made you feel. A hatred for him, but perhaps an even deeper hatred for yourself, for wanting him despite knowing how wrong it was. You hated him. You wanted him. And in that moment, it was impossible to tell where one feeling ended and the other began.

Silco's fingers tightened around your throat just enough to send another wave of alarm through your body. His eyes—those mismatched irises that burned with something dark and ravenous—studied you intently. A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips, revealing the jagged edges of his teeth, a threat and a twisted invitation all at once.

"I know you do, dove."

He leaned in closer, the distance between you shrinking until his nose brushed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the scarce space separating your lips. Silco's free hand moved upward, gripping your jaw firmly, though his thumb traced the delicate line of your cheekbone with an almost cruel gentleness. It was a stark contrast to the strength of his grip around your throat, and that duality sent heat coursing through your veins.

He pressed his body even closer against yours, pinning you completely against the cold wall, as if he wanted to crush you there, as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to escape—as if you belonged to him. Every inch of his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. You felt the weight of his thigh shift, sliding between your legs and applying an unrelenting pressure that stole any breath you had left in your lungs.

And then he claimed your lips.

It was a shock—a collision as overwhelming as the shove against the wall. His lips crashed into yours with a force that shattered any remnants of resistance you might have had. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It was raw, primal, a clash of teeth, tongue, and desire that had been restrained for far too long. He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you, as if every part of you needed to be consumed until there was nothing left but him.

You tried to regain control, but there was no space for it. He allowed no room for anything but his all-encompassing presence, the way he took everything you were, claiming the right to possess every piece of you. His fingers around your throat tightened—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you aware of his power, enough to make you feel it.

His touch was possessive, almost as if he were branding you, inscribing his presence onto you in a way that no one else could erase. And as he deepened the kiss, you realized, with a mix of anger and fascination, that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

Your hands, which had been gripping his wrists in a desperate gesture, slid downward to clutch at the rough fabric of his vest. You pulled him closer, ignoring the pain that radiated through your body. There was something strangely comforting in the brutality of his touch.

The kiss wasn't a gesture of affection; it was a collision of wills, a clash of searing fury and uncontrollable desire. It was a war with no victors, only the promise of mutual destruction. You matched his every advance with equal intensity, every bite and scratch an attempt to wound him, to leave your mark on him just as he was leaving his on you.

It was twisted, and you knew it. The hatred you felt for him was intoxicating, burning inside you like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. But what was worse—and you hated to admit it—was the fact that a part of you wanted this. You found a strange solace in the shared violence, as though, in some perverse way, it was the only truth between you. This contained violence was a language you both understood perfectly.

Your teeth sank into his lip with force, and the metallic taste of blood spread between you before he finally pulled back. "You don't own me." you whispered breathlessly, resting your forehead against his.

His hand slid down, gripping your thigh with bruising strength as he hitched it up to his waist. You gasped, feeling the hardness of him against you, a visceral reminder of how much he wanted you. Silco pressed his body even closer to yours, the cold wall at your back seeming to vanish against the searing heat of him in front of you.

"Not yet, dove. Not yet."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco chuckled darkly at her feeble attempt to slap him again, his eyes glinting with humor as he once again grabbed her wrist. However, he released her grip without much resistance, watching curiously as her hands slid downward once they were free. He reveled in the way her hands shook as she fumbled with the clasps on his pants, anger and desperation rolling off her in waves and clouding her ability to complete a simple action that she could do even with her eyes closed.

He grabbed her hands, stilling their movements. With deliberate slowness, he guided them to the fastenings of his trousers, showing her how to undo the clasps and zippers. His hands covered hers, helping her slide the fabric down enough to free him, revealing the hard length of him, already straining towards her.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he felt her fingers brush against him, the slightest touch sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He was so hard it almost hurt, his cock throbbing with need. He wanted to bury himself inside her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

But first, he had other plans. With a sudden movement, he grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was wrapped around his waist. He pinned her against the wall, the rough brick scraping against her back. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, revealing the lacy edge of her stockings.

"Look at you," his mocking tone, as if he were not equally thirsty. "So desperate for it, so needy. You want me to fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"

He rocked his hips forward, grinding his hardness against her core dress. The friction made them both gasp, pleasure sparking through their veins. Silco's hands slid higher, cupping her ass, kneading the firm flesh.

"I should make you beg for it." the whisper left his lips, his breath hot against her ear. But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. He was too far gone, too consumed by the need to have her. Right there, at that exact second.

"Don't you dare." her voice tried to be threatening, Silco realized, but at that moment her threat sounded more like a plea than anything else. "Otherwise I..."

"Otherwise, what? You are not in a position to make demands."

Despite his words, she did what she always did. She ignored him. Her eyes rolled back with a boldness only she could muster as she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue darting out to wet each one before returning them back down. She fingered him, spitting, with some difficulty due to the awkward angle. Silco's head fell forward, falling onto her shoulder as she continued to pump him. His hands returned to her thighs, adjusting his grip to keep them steady. Then when she adjusted him against her entrance, Silco couldn't help but hold his breath.

The sensation was almost too much to bear, the tight grip of her walls around him sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. He gritted his teeth, fighting back a groan as she sank down onto him, inch by torturous inch. For God's sake, how he missed that.

But even as his body reveled in the feel of her, his mind was racing with dark thoughts. This wasn't lovemaking, not by a long shot. This was a fuck, plain and simple, a coming together of two people driven by anger and lust and a desperate need to hurt each other. It was twisted and wrong and so fucking good that it terrified him.

His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled her down onto him, burying himself as deep as he could go. The angle was brutal, almost painful, but it only served to fuel the fire raging inside him.

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her cry out. Each thrust was a declaration of ownership, a physical manifestation of the dark hunger that consumed them both. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her writhe, that had her clawing at his clothes and screaming his name.

"Mine." his voice murmured, more to himself than to her. It wasn't a statement of possession meant to irritate her, since she seemed so absorbed in her own pleasure that she didn't even notice the words leaving his lips.

His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her tightly as he thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. Silco could feel her body tensing above him, could hear the way her breath hitched in her throat as she neared her peak. The knowledge that he was the one pushing her to this point, that he was the one making her lose control, filled him with a sense of satisfaction. He wanted to break her, to shatter her in a way that only he could, so, remake her in his image.

But even as he thought it, he knew it would be an almost impossible task. She would never give in to him. Not easily. She was too wild, too defiant, too stubborn to be tamed. And God help him, but that was what attracted him. That fire, that passion, that refusal to submit even in the face of his worst brutality. It called to something deep within him, something he'd thought long dead.

That's why he wanted to try. Someone who had been a revolutionary was anything but someone who gave up easily.

He forced himself to meet her gaze, his mismatched eyes boring into hers with an intensity that bordered on frightening. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown with lust and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite name. It unsettled him, the way she looked at him, like he was her salvation and her damnation all rolled into one.

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. He bit down hard, leaving a bruise in the shape of his teeth. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, mixing with the salt of her sweat. It was a heady combination, one that made his head spin and his cock throb with need.

And then she was coming, her walls clamping down around him like a vice. The sensation was almost too much to bear, the rhythmic squeezing of her muscles pushing him over the edge. He let out a guttural groan, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his seed.

For a moment, they were frozen in place, their bodies locked together in the aftermath of their release. Silco could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands, could hear the ragged sound of her breathing as she tried to catch her breath. And for a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this, to wake up next to her and see her sleep-tousled hair spread out on the pillow.

Well, if everything went the way he planned he would see this scene.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━ 

The post-climax sensation that always followed those moments left you vulnerable, as if every layer of yourself had been stripped away, leaving you exposed and defenseless. This time was no different, though the intensity was greater. It had been quick, physical—an explosion of mutual rage converted into something far more primal.

Your body ached, especially your back. The constant friction against the rough wall during the act had taken its toll. And yet, there was no regret. You had wanted it—the brutality, the intensity, the force. Silco's body also bore the signs of weariness; you could feel it in the way he leaned against the wall, seeking support for both himself and for you. His arms still held you, firm but no longer tense—just enough to keep you close.

His arms tightened around your waist for a moment, holding you firmly against him as if trying to prolong the contact, before slowly lowering you back to the ground. Even then, he kept one arm around your waist, his open hand pressed against the curve of your lower back, steadying you until the trembling in your legs subsided. No words were spoken.

After what felt like an eternity, you began adjusting your clothes. Each movement was mechanical, automatic, as though your mind had shut off, unable to process what had just happened. Across from you, Silco did the same.

Without the sexual intensity or the anger that had dominated the air minutes ago, the silence now felt even heavier. A kind of emptiness that made room for dangerous thoughts to take shape in your mind. But you didn't want to think. Not now. Thinking meant facing the consequences, and you simply didn't have the strength to deal with that yet.

You turned to face him. Silco, as always, seemed ready to say something. But before he could open his mouth, before he could release a single word or give you that smug smile that always made your blood boil, you struck him.

Your slap wasn't as strong as you wanted—it was all your exhausted body could muster—but it was enough. Silco froze for a moment, his eyes widening more from surprise than pain, but he said nothing. He didn't react. And somehow, that infuriated you even more.

Without waiting for a response or reaction, you turned and walked away.

[...]

The following days passed. The path to the brothel, the routine, the people you crossed paths with—it all seemed normal, yet strangely distant. Neither Kate nor Silco appeared, and you were grateful for that. Still, the peace was an illusion. Your mind offered no respite, replaying the memories of that night every time you closed your eyes. The touch, the anger, the desire, and, finally, the emptiness—it all returned like a silent torment.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the movement around you. It was a physical jolt—a body colliding hard against yours—that finally pulled you from your trance. The impact was so abrupt that you nearly fell.

"Hey!" you snapped, irritated, but the person was already gone, running into the growing crowd around you. It was only then that you realized something was wrong. Urgent, desperate voices overlapped around you.

"A house is on fire!" someone shouted, the phrase ringing out like an alarm. "Hurry!"

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. Your legs began running, following the crowd heading in the same direction. As you turned the corner, the chaos came into full view.

The flames danced wildly, consuming the modest building like ravenous predators. Thick smoke filled the air, burning your nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe. People ran back and forth, some coughing, others carrying buckets of water in a frantic attempt to contain the fire. Children cried as adults tried to organize some form of aid. It was pure chaos—stifling and inescapable.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes locked on the fire that seemed to grow with every passing second. But then, another jolt brought you back—this time, more deliberate.

When you turned, you found a figure that seemed out of place amidst the surrounding chaos. She was tall and muscular, with an imposing presence. The red cloak she wore draped over her shoulders, concealing her left arm in an almost calculated way. She wasn't looking at the fire—she was looking at you.

"Silco sends his regards." before you could react, she dropped something to the ground.

Your breath hitched. The world spun. Pain bloomed in your chest, spreading like poison as realization set in. A necklace with a ballerina pendant. You knew that necklace.

And it was covered in blood. Part 4

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[yespleasetommyshelby]

Always ~ Tommy Shelby ~ Nine

Summary: Leah Hart had left the Shelby's in her past, or so she'd thought, a surprise wedding invite pulls her back to Small Heath. A place filled with people she had tried so hard to leave behind, but as her mother had used to say, somehow, you'll always find your way back home.

Tommy Shelby x OC (Leah Hart)

Word count: 3200 (approx)

A whole week had passed since that day on the platform, the day that she'd left the Shelby family once again, the day that she'd walked away from Tommy Shelby. Back in London things were different, although he had no idea what had happened during her time in Birmingham, Alfie knew that something had changed his treacle, she was quiet, the girl that was once full of life and laughter was now just a shell of herself.

Leah sighed as she sat staring out of the window in Alfie's office, a blank face as she watched the people of London go on with their day with no idea of the illegal activities that happened on their doorstep. Closing her eyes she rested her head against the windows her mind racing a million miles an hour like it had been since she'd came back a week ago, back to London, back to Alfie. Alfie. As her thoughts turned to the man who had shown her nothing less than pure love she could feel her heart breaking, since she'd been back she'd not been able to hold eye contact with the man for more than two seconds before the guilt of Tommy came clawing at her throat.

The door opening and closing made her jump as she opened her eyes and groaned, pulling herself away from the window and plopping down in the seat opposite Alfie's, the man in question dropping into his chair with a huff.

"Alright treacle?" He'd mumbled, watching as she sat and fiddled with her hands, the only thing she'd do when they were in each other's company nowadays. "Right, I've had enough of this fucking shit now." His words made her head snap up, she could hear the tension that he was trying to hold back. "Ever since you went back to that shithole you came from, you've been sat there looking like someone's slapped you in the face, I've been nothing but fucking patient with you but now, now you're going to tell me just what the fuck is going on with you!" He raised his voice towards the end of his sentence, his hand banging on the table as she looked away once again.

"I'm sorry Alfie, I just..." She trailled of with a shrug, she knew there was a problem, she knew that he'd noticed how distant she'd been since she got back, she knew what was wrong with her, but how could she tell him? How could she tell him that being back in Birmingham brought back every feeling that she'd been avoiding, how could she tell him that she'd missed the piss filled streets so much that she'd been dreaming off them since she'd returned? She couldn't tell him that walking away from the Shelby family, her family, was the most heartbreaking thing she'd ever had to do and she was regretting it? How could she tell him that within the few days she was back in Birmingham, despite the fact that they'd said less than 10 words to each other before the screaming started, that she'd somehow fallen back to Tommy, that even though they had both moved on, just being back in the same room as him had her heart racing the exact same way it used to.

How could she tell him that in such a short amount of time her feelings had changed, the ring felt heavy on her finger and she wanted nothing more or less than Tommy Shelby.

"I'm so sorry Alfie." She started again, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers over the diamond ring he had given her. "I just, I miss them, ya know." She shrugged slightly, a small smile on her face as she thought back to the Shelby's. "I thought it'd be fine, I'd go back, watch John get married and then be on my way, obviously it wasn't that simple." She let out a small laugh, how naive she had been. "I was there for what, four or five days, and it was like I'd never left in the first place, and I couldn't help but think.." she trailled of slowly, not wanting to say the words out loud.

"You wish you'd never left in the first place." Alfie spoke with a small nod, he knew this conversation was coming, the second she'd walked through the door he could tell something was wrong, he could see that she'd not wanted to be there, that she wasn't as happy with her return as he was. "You know treacle, if you ain't happy here you don't have to stay, I ain't gunna take it personal or nothing." He shrugged, he'd play it cool if he had to, it'd break his heart if his brummie Angel left him, sure, but he'd be damned if she was only staying to spare his feelings.

"Alfie-" "Treacle." He interrupted her, standing from his seat and rounding his desk before leaning on the edge right in front of Leah. "This ain't about me, this ain't about a job or about that family of yours back in brum town." He paused as she let out a quiet laugh at the nickname he'd always used for her hometown. "This is about you, and only you, if you need to go back to be happy then you do it, I'll always love you treacle but I ain't gunna force you to stay, I will happily let you walk away if it's to make you happy." He'd spoken with such sincerity it had tears falling down Leah's cheeks as she looked up at the man she once loved so much.

Just as she'd opened her mouth to reply the phone on the side of the desk loudly sprang to life, the ringing stopping any words from leaving her mouth and Alfie groaned and snatched the phone from its holder.

"What?" He spoke coldly, his eyes on the floor until an unknown female voice floated through. "Who is this?" He'd asked, eyebrows furrowed before his eyes shot up to the young girl opposite him watching curiously. "It's for you." His tone a full 180 to what it had been when he'd first picked the phone up.

"Me?" She'd asked confused before slowly reaching up to take the phone from him, nobody ever called for her, nobody had even known where she was until recently. "Uh, hello?"

"Leah?" Pollys voice floated through the phone, her tone rushed yet also relieved. "Oh thank god." She'd huffed out, she'd been begging the lord to let her find the girl quickly.

"Polly? What's going on?" With furrowed eyebrows she listened to Polly's rushed words, she was sure that to anybody else the words would've made no sense but Leah had heard clear as day.

"He's been on a fucking suicide mission since you've left, and tomorrow he's going to get himself bloody killed!" She could imagine the scowl on her aunts face as she listened, her heart racing at the thought.

"What do you mean? What's tomorrow?" Leah thought hard as she tried to recall what was important about tomorrow.

"It's black star day." Was the only words she'd said, Leah raised her eyebrows as she remembered overhearing Arthur and Tommy talking about black star day and how it was to stay a secret until it has been dealt with, although what exactly they were dealing with she didn't know. "Please Le, I know you don't want to come back, I know that you don't want to be around him but he'll only listen to you. I need you to come back if only to talk some fucking sense into him." Polly sighed, her voice low as she tried to avoid any of her nephews overhearing.

"Pol, I'm not sure that's a good idea." Leah sighed as she closed her eyes, avoiding Alfie's curious gaze as he watched her. "Besides, it's been two years, who says he'll listen to me anyway?" She asked, smiling as Polly's laugh came through the phone.

"You might not be together anymore, but we both know that boy'll drop to his knees and beg god for forgiveness if you asked him to." She said matter of fact, a fact that everyone who knew the pair was aware off.

"Yeah, yeah." Leah muttered with a laugh. "I'll see what I can do, bye Polly." Hanging up with a sigh she looked up at Alfie with a small smile.

"You need to go back." He confirmed, nodding to himself as he stood to his full height reaching down and taking Leah's hand before pulling her up so she was stood.

"Alfie I-" "I know treacle, I know." He spoke softly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in, resting his chin on her head.

"I'll always love you Alfie." Leah whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding ok tightly.

"I love you too treacle." He muttered, placing a kiss to her head before pulling back and holding her at arms reach. "But you remember if for whatever fucking reason things don't work out for you back home, you'll always be welcome here with me, alright?" He looked into her eyes as he spoke, his words nothing but sincere.

"Thank you Alfie, for everything." She whispered as a tear slipped down her cheek.

-----

The journey to Birmingham seemed to be the longest train ride in the entire world, as soon as the sun had rose the next morning Leah had grabbed her already packed bag, shared another tearful goodbye with Alfie and made her way straight to the station. As the train made its way closer to the small Heath station Leah couldn't help it as her leg started to bounce and her fingers started tapping on the table infront of her as her nerves got the better of her as her thoughts ran wild, with one main one front and centre.

What if I'm too late?

As the trained slowed to a stop Leah grabbed her bag and started to shove her way out, making it off of the train she tried her hardest to dodge people as she rushed out onto the streets, sparing no glance to the people that she'd barged out of the way, she was on a mission, a mission to save Thomas Shelby. Practically running down the streets of small Heath her heart hammered against her chest as she reached watery lane, turning to a full sprint she raced her way down the road stopping outside of the double doors that she knew all to well. Dropping her bags to the floor she reached up and quickly knocked on the door, her small fists banging when there was no answer.

"Polly! Arthur! John!" She yelled as she continued to pound on the door, only silence coming from within. "Oh come the fuck on." She growled to herself before pounding on the door with all her might. "Fucking Shelby's!" She huffed as she kicked to door in frustration only for her attention to hop to the next door, the creak of it opening making her heart race as she turned to see the Shelby's neighbour watching her with concern.

"Are you okay dear? I don't think anybody's in." The frail women spoke, she'd lived next door to the Shelby's for years and knew exactly who the young girl was.

"Mrs Coles? I don't suppose you know where they've gone?" The girl asked, picking up her bag and moving toward the grey haired woman.

"No idea love, you know me, just like to keep myself to myself." Mrs Cole smiled, she knew by now to not get involved in the Shelby's business.

"Thank you anyway Mrs Cole." Leah offered the woman a smile that didn't reach her eyes, her previous thought of being too late becoming truer and truer by the second. "Uhm, can I leave my bag with you? Just until I find one of them?" Leah asked, her thoughts already planning out where she was going to try next.

"Of course dear." Mrs Cole smiled as she took the bag, tucking it behind her door. "Just give us a knock when you're ready." The woman had said but the young girl had already started to walk away.

"Thank you!" She had called speeding up her steps as she headed to her next destination, the garrison.

As she headed towards the pub her eyes caught sight of Polly, scowl on her face as she headed in the same direction as Leah. Calling her name she ran to catch up to the Shelby monarch, falling into step as they approached to doors.

"Where is everyone?" Leah asked as she scanned the practically empty streets, the quietest she'd seen them since the war.

"In their homes, the boys were supposed to go and take over Kimbers races, sent the Lee boys up there only to get a call that Kimber and his men were on their way here." She scowled, pausing just outside of the Garrison. "Someone betrayed them, and there was only a select few that knew about black star day, the family, and her." She growled, nodding her head towards the doors infront of them.

"Motherfucking Gracie." Leah whispered, she knew, she fucking knew that there was something that wasn't right with her. "I'm gunna fucking kill her." She growled as she went to take a step forwards only for Polly to put her arm out and stop her.

"That's not how we're playing this, she's a copper, you lay one hand on her and you'll be hanging by the end of the week." She tutted, straightening her coat before smiling at Leah. "We're going to go in there and make her leave without harming a hair on her little treacherous head." She grinned before pushing the doors open and strutting in.

"Yes Polly!" Leah smirked, walking into the empty pub behind Polly, the only person being the one they were looking for. "Alright Gracie?" Leah grinned, biting back a laugh at the shock that took over Grace's face as her eyes landed on the pair.

"I thought you'd left." Grace spoke slowly, putting down the glass that she'd been drying, trying to hide the way her hands were shaking.

"I could see why you'd think that." Leah shrugged, she was here to listen to Grace's story, not explain herself.

"Tommy told me." She shrugged as she tried to play it cool. "Said you weren't gunna be coming back this time." Leah could hear the tone shift in her voice, the way that Grace had tried to sound so convinced.

"Oh you didn't know?" Leah asked faking innocence. "The man's a fucking liar." She grinned with a laugh, taking a seat opposite Grace at the bar. "So Gracie, don't suppose you happen to know what today is do you?" She asked with her head tilted sideways slightly, her eyes watching the Irish girls every move.

"What is today?" No matter how hard she'd tried to be confident she couldn't hide the slight shake in her voice as she looked over to Polly who had just been stood by the door.

"Black star day love." Polly grinned as she walked over, reaching a hand into her hair and pulling out a long thin pin and rolling it around her fingers. "You did know that right? Tommy did tell you?" She paused as she got closer, slamming her hand and the pin down on to the bar as Grace stood in silence. "Speak girl!" She yelled, her voice making both girls jump before Graces eyes shot up to meet Pollys.

"Yes." She muttered, looking down at the ground.

"What was the Gracie? I couldn't quite hear you." Leah smiled slightly, her leg bouncing as she imagined herself leaping over the bar and slamming her blonde haired head into the row of neatly arranged bottles behind her.

"Yes I knew." She spoke louder this time, more confident as she looked between the two women opposite her.

"I fucking knew it." Leah exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the bar as she leaned over making sure she was right in Grace's face. "You lying piece of shit." She growled, taking pride in the way graces face dropped and she took a step back.

"I am an agent of the crown and I will arrest you." Grace spoke, her words sounding much more confident than the shake in her hands or the paleness of her face.

"We aren't going to hurt you." Polly spoke, picking up the pin and inspecting it, poking the end and making a comment on the sharpness. "Right now, you are going to leave Small Heath, go back to whatever little hole you crawled out from, and never show your face around here again, am I understood?" Polly stood strong, an eyebrow raised as Grace did nothing but look back at the Shelby monarch.

After another moment of silence Leah's patience slipped, standing up she quickly jumped over the bar, grabbed a fist full of Grace's hair and pushed her head down onto the bar, laughing slightly as the girl struggled. As Grace tried to push herself back up Leah pushed back, the blondes head smacking into the wood hard enough for a thud to sound throughout the otherwise empty room.

"I said, am I understood." Polly took a step closer, bending down so she could see the Irish girls eyes from the new angle. "What was that?" She asked after hearing a grumble from the girl currently pinned to the bar.

"I said yes! Okay! I'll go!" She spat the words out, scrambling backwards as Leah let go of the fistful of hair. "You people are monsters!" She exclaimed as she grabbed her bag and coat and rushed past the two women and to the door.

"One more thing." Leah spoke suddenly making Grace pause just as she'd opened the door. "If I ever, and I mean ever, see you again I will stamp your face into the mud." She said coldly, her face void of any emotion as she watched the girl gulp with a nod. "Okay then, bye Gracie." Leah grinned, her words as happy as could be.

"I'm so glad you came." Polly breathed out as soon as the doors closed, rushing over and pulling the girl into a hug before pulling away and slapping her round the head gently.

"What the fuck Pol?" She huffed, reaching up and smoothing her hair back down.

"That's what you get for leaving!" She muttered before grabbing her arm and pulling her out into the street. "Come on, we've still got another problem."

"Where even is he Pol?" Leah asked as they marched their way down the empty lane, stopping as Polly thought.

"Right, you go check Charlie's yard and I'll go to the bullpen, there's only so many places those boys can get themselves killed." Polly instructed before she turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

"Yes Polly, of course Polly, see you soon Polly." Leah laughed before she walked in the opposite direction.

--

Ta-daa! I'm not sure if you can tell but Grace is not my favourite character 🫣

As always, don't forget to like, comment and repost! 🥰

Previous Part:

[tryslora]

learning sentence level editing

It’s no secret that I hate editing.

I’ve told this story before: When I was in high school, I had an English teacher who told us on our first day of sophomore honors English that she would not give an A for a first draft. She had a rigorous outlining/drafting process that she was determined to teach us. Me, I had undiagnosed ADHD and was a dyed-in-the-wool pantser. So I resolved on that first day that by the end of my time with her, I would get an A on a first draft.

My final essay of junior year AP English (yes, same teacher two years in a row), I wrote about Victorian morals and literature. I read it aloud. I got an A. I only ever wrote one draft.

What that taught me was how to write very technically clean drafts, something that has stayed with me for almost four decades now. Which is great!

What it did not teach me was how to be patient enough to properly edit. And I have never really learned. In fact, that is one of my ADHD sticking points (yes, I know, that’s obvious from my reaction to her statement in the story above). I often feel that a large part of the reason I have never made it as a writer—have never broken into tradpub—is because I do not have the patience to not only write, but then create an outline from the draft, then rewrite, then do it all over again and fiddle with each sentence until it’s perfect.

I’m learning, but I’ll admit, I’m still not there, and I’m not sure I ever will be where novels are concerned. 

But right this moment, I’m feeling very accomplished and proud of myself. I had a short story that every time I worked on it, it grew. Every time I cut it, it felt like it lost its heart and like the taste of the words stopped feeling like mine. My voice disappeared.

I had finally worked out a version of it that was just under 7500 words long, and I thought it was decent. It got no traction, and I was frustrated. I put it up for critique on SFFOWW (a critique group site) while I was active there a year and a half ago. It was chosen for an Editor’s Choice review, and the first half of it got some great comments. Which I promptly had to ignore because I was dealing with other editing problems.

I returned to it recently, because I saw a call I wanted to send it to. The problem was, the call was for stories under 6k, and I wasn’t sure I could cut this story again and still retain its punch. But hey. The biggest feedback I got was about how I handled my descriptions and dialog, and the amount of repetition that slipped into my words. So I absorbed that, and I dug into the story, and I started ripping it apart.

I didn’t edit it, exactly, nor did I completely rewrite it. I printed it. I read it twice. Then I placed it on the desk and went a few paragraphs at a time and started with a blank file and filled it in. Some pieces went in verbatim. Most of it changed. Huge chunks disappeared, and a few new things appeared. Some of it got rearranged. The wordiness disappeared.

Here’s an example…

Before:

"You get one hour," Lana says softly. "One hour with him, and then you're leaving him behind. You're taking your fate and you're setting him free."

After:

"One hour," Lana says. "Then take your fate with you and set him free."

The new version of the story came in under 6k. I did it, and the best part is, I don’t hate it. In fact, this was sentence level revision of a style I had never done before. The closest I’ve come to it is editing flash fiction to be under very tiny wordcounts (or drabbles of exactly 100 words, which gods, those take me longer than writing a short fic!).

I’m not sure I could’ve done this without the editing I did for Into the Split over the last many months. I had to dig into that in ways I have never edited a novel before, and it prepared me to dig even more deeply into this short story.

I’m learning. I guess you can teach old dogs some new tricks.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin' Up - Firefighter!Chris AU (Epilogue)

A/N: Surprise! I couldn't not do an epilogue!

Summary: 2 months have passed since you reported your Father to the police and things are looking up

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Fluff! Minor Angst! Talk of Dead Minor Character!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

A couple of months later

You took a deep breath looking down at your lap, trying not to fiddle and fix your formal uniform for the 5th time in the same amount of minutes. Instead, you fiddled with your fingers in your lap trying to dispel the nervous energy you had.

You only looked up when you heard someone clearing their throat loudly, your eyes instantly finding Chris in the audience. He gives you a small subtle nod of the head before mouthing ‘breathe’ and demonstrating the deep breathing he wanted you to do. You copy him, your eyes never leave his, the nervous energy fading away.

“Our next recipient went above and beyond her duties and was brave enough to show nobody is above the law, not even a police commissioner,” The Deputy Commissioner said from her podium.

She had taken on the role of acting commissioner from the moment your father was removed from office. The investigation into him thankfully didn’t drag on nor did it go to trial since he admitted to it all. The investigation had dragged up more instances of corruption and him blackmailing other officers in the force, no less than 10 former officers came forward and gave their testimonies on how he drove them off the force. He probably hopes that pleading guilty would give him a lesser sentence, you’d have to find out at the sentencing next week.

The Deputy Commissioner was a welcome change to the force and in the two months she had been acting Commissioner she had made many changes for the better. You really hoped that she would win the vote and officially become the new Commissioner.

“every officer could learn something from Detective Sergeant Y/L/N, I know I certainly have so it is my honour to present her with a medal of commendation” She continues.

A large cheer erupts from the crowd as your squad, Chris’ crew and his family all stand up to applaud you. You couldn’t stop the smile that made its way onto your face as you stood up from your seat and made your way over.

“Thank you Ma’am” you smile, shaking her hand as you accept your medal.

“your welcome, you deserve it” she smiles warmly.

Everyone continues to cheer as you make your way back to your seat, only stopping when the Deputy Commissioner cleared her throat loudly. She didn’t seem to mind though if the smirk on her face was anything to go by.

Once the ceremony was over you made your way off the stage and towards your friends and family and most importantly Chris. Your squad greeted you first, all clapping you on your back, Ben giving you the tightest hug possible. Next came Chris’ crew and then his family, his niece and nephews wanting to get a closer look at your medal.

Finally, you got through the crowds and were stood in front of Chris, who looked absolutely gorgeous in his new uniform, the gold captain epaulettes shining proudly. Jeffords had officially retired from active duty following his accident, stating that the time with his family highlighted that they should have always been his priority. So Chris was officially promoted to Captain and you couldn’t be prouder of him.

“I’m so proud of you” he grins as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips “These are for you” he says pulling a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back.

“oh Chris they’re beautiful thank you so much” You smile as you accept the flower and breath in their fresh scent.

“you're welcome, I’ve got more for you at home” he winks making you chuckle knowing he didn’t just mean physical presents.

You also had to smile because Chris’ house was now officially your home too. Even though you had been living with him throughout everything that happened with your father and the investigation, once CSI were done with your apartment Chris asked if you officially wanted to move in and you of course said yes.

“my mom has also organised a celebratory dinner at her house” Chris continues.

“sounds delicious, but I have somewhere I want to take you first,” you tell him making his head tilt slightly in confusion “It won’t take long at all, I promise”

Chris was admittedly a little confused when you asked to take a detour on the way back to his mom's, but when you directed him to turn the car down the road towards the cemetery he slowly began to understand. If he was honest he was starting to get a little bit nervous too.

Once he park up he got out of the car and walked around to you. The bouquet of flowers that he’d given you was still in your hands as you slipped your hand into his. You didn’t say a word, just smiled softly up at him before leading him into the cemetery.

The air was silent with the exception of the occasional tweet for a bird as you walked. The atmosphere felt peaceful and maybe that helped put Chris at ease as you approached and stopped at your mom’s grave.

Your hand slipped out of Chris’ hand as you crouched down and began removing the older, wilted flowers on the grave and replaced them with some from the bouquet that he gave you. You then gently brushed away some dirt and dust from the headstone and took a deep breath.

“hey mom, sorry its been a while, life’s been pretty hectic but I’m sure you know all that” you start, the corner of your lips twitching upwards as you spoke “I’ve been meaning to come for a while now and I’m sorry I kept putting it off,” you say before taking a deep breath “I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about everything that happened with father” you admit “I hope you’re not upset, I know you loved him but I hope you're proud that I stood up to him… I think you would be”

Chris let out a shuddering breath as he listened to you talk to your mom. He’ll never get to meet your mom but he feels confident that your mom would be proud of you. Your mom was a good mom, and any good mom would be proud of what you did.

“I also wanted to introduce you to someone,” you say standing back up and stepping back, your hand finding his once more “This is Chris and I absolutely love him with all my heart and I think you would too, he’s everything I know you would want for me and I don’t know what I did to deserve him,” you say smiling up at him.

Chris smiles warmly back down at you “I don’t know what I did to deserve you” he whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

He then turned his attention back to the gravestone “I’m sad I never got the chance to meet you because I know Y/N must be just like you and that means you were a pretty incredible woman” he says making you smile gently, stepping closer into his side “I hope you’re at peace and I can promise you that I will protect Y/N with my life and will never let anyone hurt her again” he swears.

He heard you let out a small shuddering breath which made his attention snap back to you. He looked down to see you looking up at him, tears brimming your eyes but with a smile on your face and a look of gratitude in your eyes “I love you” you whispered.

“I love you too sweetheart” Chris smiled as he cupped your cheek and brought your lips up to his for a sweet kiss.

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Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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[oh-hell-help-me]

Day 10: Fangs

Luigi had a hard time with sleep.

It’s not that he can’t sleep, but…

Every time he sleeps, he dreams of… something dark. Something that almost seems alive but empty, feeling it gently envelop him and he just…

Sinks.

He wakes up gasping for air, heart pounding against his rib cage like a jackhammer, and he doesn’t know why.

(And after… after, his scar would throb too.)

Three weeks into his job as an Ambassador, that fact hasn’t changed.

Except…

Bowser has taken his new ‘task’ seriously, and Luigi was worried about falling asleep on him!

It didn’t help that the Koopa was so warm and safe (and that Luigi is so utterly doomed with Bowser)!

Regardless, his efforts were in vain, and -in the middle of a meeting- he dropped off into a catnap, cheek pressed against warm scales as he slept.

Then he woke up. Just, normally?

Sure, the large claw poking his cheek was annoying, but if felt like a fair trade off.

“Come on, string bean. Wake up.”

And then he opened his eyes.

Fangs.

Large, sharp fangs, barely two inches from his face.

Had he been scared, he would have flinched, or jumped, or yelled- something he could brush off as him being him!

Instead, Luigi sleepily reached up and stroked them with the same amount of self-preservation one has petting a cat’s belly.

He freezes.

Bowser’s staring. At HIM! With an indescribable look that nearly has him squirming.

This is worse.

This is so, SO much worse!

He wants the earth to swallow him whole.

AND WHY HASN’T BOWSER SAID ANYTHING?

…. Why hasn’t he said anything yet?

Braving the possibility of dying from embarrassment (and why is his hand still there?), Luigi drags his gaze back to Bowser’s red eyes.

...

He still doesn’t know what the Koopa is feeling, but at least he doesn’t seem angry?

Staring into his eyes was a bit like sinking into that dreamed blackness, but more... comforting? Maybe intense? Definitely something more- something that made Luigi forget to breathe-

…He, um, thinks he shocked him.

Bowser was aware that Luigi was as stubborn as he was sweet.

He knew that it meant that he was a wonderful friend, being dead set on learning whatever Bowser was willing to tell about himself.

He also knew that it meant that anything that made the human curious was met with zero self-preservation (seriously, how did the red menace keep him alive this long?).

So why couldn't he shake off this moment?

Why…?

Why did he like it so much?

Those were his teeth, his FANGS, one of the most deadliest parts of himself!

He couldn’t feel anything with them, and it’s not like there was a taboo of touching them (not like a tail, or neck-)! So why-?

He should start by closing his mouth, but with the human's hand still very much there-

Oh, right.

Bowser carefully leans away from the touch, almost feeling a sense of disappointment relief as Luigi seems to snap out of it with a yelp.

He does, however, take offense when Luigi tries to squirm out his grip, needlessly apologizing in rapid-fire words he can barely make out.

"Ah-ah-ah! You're not getting out from your sentence, Greenie!" He hooks a single hand around the human, careful to curl his thumb behind Luigi's head in fear of his claws. "I know I'm handsome, but I didn't realize you're into m-my teeth as well!"

No. The Koopa King did NOT stutter!

Still, Luigi's mortification is palpable in the way he turned fully red, blue eyes looking anywhere BUT the Koopa as his hands fiddled with each other.

"I-I'm s-sorry. I h-hadn't realized I was- sorry..."

Bowser frowned.

He hasn't heard Luigi stutter since... that library day, now that he thinks of it, and he honestly hadn't realized the significance of Luigi stuttering at all in his presence.

He finds that he doesn't like it.

"Doesn't matter." He'll.. deal with these thoughts later. First and foremost: "Now come on, we're going to be late for lunch!"

And no, Bowser didn't need to wake Luigi up to take him to the dining hall, but he did want to see Luigi's never-changing awe as they went inside. And he can't see that if the human is asleep now, can he?

"L-lunch?" He could feel the human shift in his grip as he turns his attention to opening the Meeting Room doors. "MAMA MIA! I SLEPT THAT LONG!?"

He couldn't help but snort. "You conked out during the boring bits. Trust me, you weren't missing much."

A glance towards the pouting human nearly has him snicker. "But that was rude! I was rude!" Luigi hung his head. "Ooohh. How am I supposed to face that Ambassador now?"

Something in Bowser's chest warmed, and he was barely aware of his expression when he replies "They gave you a break, Luigi."

The former(?) plumber peaks up at him. "But I-"

"Don't tell me that you haven't been 'doing as much'! You've been heading negotiations since day one!" Bowser is pretty sure that half of the petty arguments made by both him and the ambassadors would have been... messy if not for Luigi's interventions. "And don't dare tell me that you haven't been staying up late either!"

THAT gets the human to shut his mouth with a snap, looking away once more.

Even if Bowser wasn't as awesomely observant as he is, the other Ambassadors were nosey enough to inquire about Luigi's activities.

That is, the human had taken upon himself the task to not only study the Kingdom's history (which is required for all diplomats), but he has also taken the time to study Koopa inventions, methodologies, projects, and even past mechanical failures that could be used for The Plan.

More often than not, Bowser was 'babysitting' him at the library too, but ended up asleep at his favorite armchair after each visit. Stars know how long Luigi slept...

"So don't worry your pretty head about it!" As he opens the door, he barely catches a glimpse of surprise on Luigi's face before he started to take in the Dining Hall once more.

Bowser tries not to think about what he just said.

[howlingmoonrise]

tagged by the fantastic @sunriseverse! thanks sunny!! 💖

under the cut because this one is long

1. why did you choose your url?

i wanted a new fandom penname and at the time adjective + noun names were a thing. i fiddled with several different variations, tried and failed to acquire kaleidoscopicmoonrise at the time (it's mine now!!), and landed on this one. i wanted something a little spooky, especially since soul eater was my fandom at the time - though it doesn't feel like it now that my icon is a lot more sane-looking lmfao

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

uh. yeah. a stupid amount (like 30+?), so i'm definitely not naming them all. most active are obviously this howl blog, my main blog @commandersya, this one for danny phantom and gravity falls stuff, @howlingspacegoo gets some activity every now and then when venom stuff resurfaces, and some others i use for reblogging specific reference stuff. most of the rest are for fandom events i've run in the past.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

since like 2011-2012. i've seen it all.

4. do you have a queue tag?

lmao absolutely not. i don't use the queue function, though on occasion i'll schedule posts to space them out when i'm going through a tag in order not to reblog all of it at once, or for specific dates like halloween

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

this one was for soul eater writing purposes. tumblr in general was because my cousin dragged me into it and then i realized there was a lot of bandom stuff in here (i was really into black veil brides for my first year or two on tumblr)

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

i broke ties with the soul eater fandom in a not great way and wanted to change my icon. yoi provided the perfect yuri expression with the kind of benevolent dictator smile i really like, despite that not being the original intent for it when the animators drew it ✊😔

7. why did you choose your header?

i had to check my header real quick lmfao. jason todd is just an excellent blorbo and when a good artist draws him.... 👀👀👀

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

oh gods. probably my dracula/barbie fic at nearly 3.5k notes. where's that ben affleck cigarrette pic when you need it. alternatively some ancient black veil brides photo/gif on my main blog.

9. how many mutuals do you have?

idk but i cherish y'all 💖

10. how many followers do you have?

dunno 😭 they're split across dozens of blogs so i'm not counting them all

11. how many people do you follow?

1.8k+, though i should follow more. my dash has times when it's pretty dead.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

probably? yes. just remembered the i bit the butte psoh post.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

however long i'm online on my laptop, more or less. so a sizeable amount of hours

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

LMAO. i was in both voltron and yoi fandoms, writing for and running events for "problematic" ships. take a wild wild guess.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

hate them. 90% of the time it'll make me automatically skip it. for the other 10%, if it has relevant info on the op's original post and that little sentence is on the comments then i might go back and reblog from the op just to get rid of it

16. do you like tag games?

love them!

17. do you like ask games?

see above

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

i have uhhh. some. olderthannetfic, nemainofthewater, i think also colubrina for a while there, off the top of my head.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

if friend crushes count then several ✊😔

20. what is the last song you listened to?

the cramps - goo goo muck

21. what are you currently watching?

i am. so bad at finishing things so like a bajillion shows. the double i might drop despite it having been very very good until like episode 30-something. meet you at the blossom i need to finish like the last two eps. wandee goodday i need to finish four episodes iirc. i was in like episode 5 of century of love. i was on episode... 17? of my journey to you, which if i power through shall be for the antagonist sidepair/trio rather than the main characters. i was also at episode 16 of new life begins, which was fairly good and i do want to continue though i keep forgetting i have that tab open somewhere.

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy?

savoury!

23. what is your current relationship status?

single and ace so not planning on changing that!

24. what is your current obsession?

the spirealm/kaleidoscope of death, and mysterious lotus casebook

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

- La P'tite Fumée - Cypher - Brody Dale - Don't Mess With Me - Stiff Little Fingers - Alternative Ulster - Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - The Cramps - What's Inside a Girl - Linkin Park - Heavy is the Crown - Miyavi & PVRIS - Snakes - D-A-D - Sleeping My Day Away - Aerosmith - Dream On

no-pressure tagging! @junemermaid @a-memory-a-distant-echo @snorlaxlovesme @where-the-water-flows @nemainofthewater

[epersonae]

I'd love to hear a director's commentary on "I have begun to long for you!" I recently read it (finally!) and really enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear how you made the choices you did for that fic! "What if the mutiny against Izzy had succeeded" can already go in so many different directions, and I especially wonder if you'd change anything about how you handled it now that more time has passed since the s1 finale first aired and we've all had so long to discuss and ruminate.

You know, I posted I have begun to long for you two years ago yesterday. And I'm reading through it, and wow.

I think probably the most important thing to know about that fic is that it had been not quite nine months since my spouse died. Everything about it is rooted so intensely in that early grief experience, especially thinking back to the first week or so, and not really being able to eat, not being able to sleep more than an couple of hours at a time, and feeling just unmoored from the world.

This line? This came from a place right at the core of my being:

He wouldn’t look for happiness again, but maybe he could find quiet for a little while.

And also I had been watching the show over and over and over from the first time I watched it in early April 2022 (there is a horrifying alternate reality in which I watched it on my phone on the plane home from visiting Ryn's hometown, which might have actually killed me), and I'd gotten into fandom here, and I was reading just insane amounts of fic. This was the spring and summer where basically all I did was work, watch the show, and read fic.

I would say I still stand by it, even after all the back and forth and discourse and everything since then. There is I think a single sentence that could be interpreted as Ed not knowing how to read, versus being in such distress that he can't focus on reading, and I'd be tempted to fiddle with that a bit. Otherwise, I feel like I nailed something.

Also it's always struck me as very funny that it does feel entirely likely that Stede was in Bridgetown for like 3 or 4 days, max? FWIW, one of the inspirations was a post which is probably lost to time about the mutiny succeeding and then the crew going off and becoming a sailing theater troupe, which may have been my original intention until a rewatch where I was like HEY WAIT IF HE'D HUNG OUT FOR TWO MORE DAYS STEDE WOULD HAVE SHOWN UP.

Last thought: so much of what I did with the crew, while rooted in their canon depictions, is also drawn from the care and love I got from the people in my life right after Ryn died. (special shout out to @faintvox, @ensrensage, and @emi--rose for being the most present of all) If I am still here, it is in large part because of them.

[fanfic director's cut]

[a-writer-that-never-writes]

The Starline Heist

“Hand me the halfdiamond,” said Ebby.

Nik pulled the pick from the small pouch and handed it to him, “One of these day’s you’re gonna have to show me how you do it.”

“Fat chance,” grunted Ebby, “Damn, didn’t anyone teach these idiots how to oil a lock, I’m surprised this thing hasn’t seized up on them yet.”

“They probably think it’s safer for it to stick a little.”

“Give me a hammer and I’d have this thing off in too whacks, it’s rusted right through I tell ya.”

“Too loud,” sighed Nik, “It’s a nice idea though, I wouldn’t mind taking a hammer or maybe even a torch to this building.”

“We’ll torch them in court once we get those papers. Ahha, got it,” Ebby crackled with glee as the lock popped loose, “Your turn Niki old pal!”

Nik gently pried the front plate off the badge reader and looked at the tangle of wires inside, “Hmmm, I see why they used a physical lock, the print scanner on this thing is fried, anyone with a badge and code could just waltz right in.”

Ebby grinned, “Don’t suppose you have the badge and code do you?”

“Not yet actually, my contact wanted an exorbitant amount for them.” Nik fiddled with the wires, “that ought to work,” they held up a pair of white cards to the reader, “here,” they handed one to Ebby, “should get you through most doors.”

Nik quickly punched in a fake code, “one, two, three, four. Think you can remember that old man?”

Ebby shoved the card in his shirt pocket, “I got your number all right Niki boy, got a cloak for me?”

Nik pulled two lengths of fabric from their backpack, “here ya go, make sure not to stand still for too long or the AI will pick up on it.”

They each ducked under their own cloaks, adjusting them to ensure everything was well hidden.

“Here we go,” Nik opened the door and the two quickly slipped inside.  

The hall lights blinked on, “crap,” muttered Ebby.

“Hush, they’re old laser-style motion sensors, if the AI had seen us the alarms would already be blaring, so lets move quick.”

They headed down the hallway past several doors before Nik stopped, “here it is, Security Operations Center. Should be able to get everything we need from here.”

“That looks like a retina scanner,” Ebby said doubtfully.

Nik slowly pried the scanner away from the wall, “I can bypass it, it’s an older model…” they fell silent as they carefully rewired the machines' innards.  “Try badging in now.”

The door obediently unlocked as Ebby tapped his badge on the small reader and typed in the simple code.

The security center was lined with several rows of desks and even more rows of clear glass monitors.

“Place is like a ghost town,” Ebby muttered as the automatic light’s switched on, “How’d you get em all out of here at the same time?”

“Corporate Christmas party, just worked a little magic on who was scheduled to go and who wasn’t, simple really.”

“It’s all easy for you ain’t it kid,” Ebby was rifling through paper and checking in unlocked drawers, “you think you got it made. Just don’t go getting too cocky, that’s how you end up with a prison sentence longer than the ride to Pluto.”

“I’m sure you’ll keep me in line ol’ man.” Nick smiled. They had slid into a chair and plugged in a small device to the computer there, “Any luck finding the keys?”

“Starting to wonder if I’ll even need them, don’t think anyone taught these boys basic security,” Ebby strode over and dropped a small sticky note in front of Nik, “I believe you owe me a drink though.”

Nik rolled his eyes at the small piece of paper but diligently typed in the username and password written on it, “I’m in,” they grumbled and unplugged the small machine.  “People always take all the fun out of hacking.”

Ebby laughed, “somethings never change.  They’ll come up with a way to pull the password straight from your mind and people will still be writing them down and hiding them under keyboards.”

“They could atleast invent an invisibility cloak small enough to hide em with.”

“Sounds like a great idea, just hope it doesn’t fritz out the first time you look at it wrong.”

“They’ve come a long way, heard they’ve deployed some back on Earth that are almost entirely silent.”

Ebby gave a disbelieving grunt and went back to digging through drawers, pulling out his lockpicks as needed.

“Got us registered with the AI, it shouldn’t sound any alarms now,“ Nik shrugged off the static cloak and looked around for any flashing lights.

“Don’t suppose you set the camera’s on a loop to did ya?” Ebby asked.

Nik gave him a withering look and Ebby reluctantly slid down the hood of his cloak.

“You can never be too careful, alright.”

“How about you let me do my job and you do your’s, unless you’ve already found those keys?”

“Bah, they’ll  be in the last drawer I open, that’s how that always works.”

The two worked in silence for several minutes, interrupted only by Nik’s occasional curses as the computer failed to let them into one program or another.

“Got em,” Ebby said, dusting off his knees as he stood up, “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.”

“Find us another job as good as this and you’ll have enough money to retire.”

Ebby chuckled, “it’ll be here sooner than you think, Nik. Ready to go get those papers?”

“I’m elevating the access for that badge, tap it here,” Nik motioned to a small card reader, “alright you should be good to go.”

“You’re not coming along?”

“Shouldn’t need me and I’d like to take a poke around their datacenter.”

“Be careful.”

“You too ol’ man, remember these papers aren’t worth getting killed over.”

Ebby nodded and slipped back under his static cloak before heading out into the hall.  Once Nik had confirmed that no alarms were going to go off they headed over to the one other door in the room.  

“Hello, Beautiful,” they said as they badged in and opened the heavy steel door. Heat and noise blasted forth from the cluttered room, “Oh…, Well that explains the slow connections.” The room was filled with two rows of ceiling height metal server racks connected by a jungle of cables and cords.

Nik pulled out their laptop and stepped gingerly through the mess of wires, pausing occasionally to plug a tiny device into an open port.

“Ahah, now you might have something useful,” Nik followed the cables from one server until they found an empty line and plugged it into their laptop, “username and password? Let’s just pretend I’m the admin why don’t we? And we’re in, really, it’s too easy.”

Nik tapped away at the keyboard for several minutes, mumbling to themselves about poor security practices. “It really isn’t my fault they just left the back door wide open is it? Ooo, what’s this file? Oh.” 

Nik sat down hard on the ground.

The door to the security room clicked shut, “You almost done in there?” called Ebby, he poked his head into the server room, “you alright Nik? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine,” Nik stuttered, “just found some real interesting data.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ll, um, show you later, Eb.”

Ebby eyed him curiously, “How much longer you need?”

Nik nodded, “ I just gotta get this stuff downloaded, should only take a few minutes. You go ahead though, I’ll meet you at the usual spot.”

“We’ve done a lot of good work together, yeah Nik?”

Nik hummed their agreement.

“Well I’ll see ya in a bit yeah?” Ebby hesistated, “Don’t wait to long, Nik, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Me too.”

Nik slammed the laptop shut and shoved it into their bag as soon as they heard the security center door close.

“What’s your game ol’man?” they muttered to themselves as they weaved back out through the jungle of cables.  They gave a cursory glance at the security monitors to make sure that the coast was clear and then strode out into the hall.

Nik, stopped.  The exit at the end of the hall was open, and just on the other side, lit by the wavering light of a streetlamp was the slumped over body of Ebby. “Shit”

The light outside shifted. 

A shiver ran up Nik’s spine as the gentle click of the door closing was drowned out by the loud thud of heavy machinery. Their eyes darted around the hall, trying to make out the slight shimmer in the air made by the invisibility suit.

“Stay calm,” they muttered to themselves, trying to fight down the urge to turn and run, “you need a plan.”

There was a loud click, as of a gun loading.

Nik dove back into the security room just in time to avoid the gunfire.  They shoved one of the light weight desks against the door.

“Shit, think, Ebby told you all about these damn machines.”

Nik looked hopelessly around the room for anything of use. The machine thudded slowly down the hall.

“What was it he always said about the older machines? You could hear them coming a mile away? Great yeah, well I figured that out on my own.”

Nik backed away from the door till they reached the datacenter.  They grabbed the handle and cursed as it sparked. “These guys are gonna fry their machines.” Nik stared at the handle, tentatively reaching out to touch it again, this time without the spark.

A loud thud outside the door was all the urging Nik needed to put their half formed plan into action.  As their pursuer tried to bash open the locked door Nik yanked a pair of cables haphazardly out of servers and drug them out into the security center.  They did their best to toss them onto either side of the entrance.  As the door crashed open in a burst of splinters Nik shoved the ends of the cables into a power bank and dove behind a set of desks.

Nik held their breath, the suit whirred and clicked as it looked around the room.

“Think you can hide?” said a distorted voice, “think you can outrun me?”

There was a thud as the suit stepped inside the room.  Nik glanced over at the gray wall panel by the door.

“If you come out now I’ll make your death quick, just like I did for your partner.”

There was a crash as a desk was lifted up and tossed across the room.

“I gotta say you got balls, trying to steal from Starline, I respect that, I really do.”

Nik scrambled out of the way as one of the desks came crashing down on their hiding spot.  They could see the wavering light of the invisibility suit only a few yards away.

“Ah there you are”

They carefully stood, their legs shaking, “Why'd you kill the ol’man? It was a good setup. A fake heist. Starline gets the reward for catching another hacker. Somehow I don’t think getting murdered is part of the deal that ol’ Ebenezer struck.”

The disembodied voice laughed, “He said you were smart. But thats the problem with you smart types, always get too cocky for your own good. You’re so easy to fool.”

Nick tried to put desks between them and the machine, slowly inching back towards the door.

“You see I figure that catching both of you will be worth twice the reward. If he'd of had half the brains you do he’d of seen that and backed out on the whole heist.”

Nick bumped into the wall, their hand flung out to a small panel and popped it open. There was a click as the machine's gun reloaded.

“You see the problem with you smart types is sometimes you're too smart for your own good”

Nick flung open the breaker box and flipped the switches, power crackled through the cables and arced up along the invisibility suit lighting it up in a flash of blinding light.

There was a loud pop as the fuses blew and then silence fell on the now dark room. Nik blinked away the after image.

“You forget that older models of invisibility suits were terribly unreliable.  Turns out they’re incredibly difficult to insulate against electricity.”

The back out power kicked on, lighting the room in a somber red. They looked over the large multifaceted machine, it looked more like a misshaped disco ball than the cutting edge of technology.

Nik carefully edged out of the room, looking keenly down the hall for any other potential ambushes. Outside Ebby was slumped in a puddle of his own blood.

“It’s really a shame ol’ man, I liked working with you. I really did.” Nik rolled the corpse over and fished in the pockets till he found the set of lock picks and a tattered wallet, “I guess you’ll be the one buying this round of drinks after all.”

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Part Fourteen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: Ravka’s seat of power changes, and Aleksander makes a discovery that sends you both north in search of his sister.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence, spoilers for the Language of Thorns.

A/N: since there’s only one short story with Ulla which was set when she was young - my version of her is very much my own interpretation for this fic (but I hope you guys like her).

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist • Next Part

It rains on the day of the King’s funeral.

As Vasily’s betrothed, you stand beside him in your uniform, made black for the sombre occasion. He doesn’t look at you, and you don’t speak for the entirety of the service.

Considering the fact that your country is at war, a colossal amount of money must have been spent on the King’s funeral. The wake in particular is extremely extravagant, with a large banquet spread out that very few of the guests eat from.

The entire day feels like an awful waste. Of time, money, resources. The people’s tears even, are wasted on a man who didn’t care for them.

Aleksander spends most of his time being hounded by older First Army officials who treat him like a boy, while they attempt to win his favour to take Zlatan’s position. Occasionally you will lock eyes with him, and the two of you will share a knowing look - endure it.

You spend a lot of your time consoling the Queen alongside Nikolai. Vasily makes himself scarce at the first opportunity, and you don’t see him again for the rest of the day.

After the King’s funeral, an official ten days of mourning begin. The war doesn’t stop for mourning, and neither do you and Aleksander. Locked away in his war room, you plan out your next campaigns along the frontlines and pray that this will be the final push before you bring down the Fold.

On the third day of mourning, Nikolai travels to Caryeva to see his brother under the guise of brotherly solidarity. You know why he’s actually going, and can only hope that he succeeds. Otherwise you will need to plan for a wedding, or faking your death and asking Genya to tailor your face.

When you hear of Nikolai’s return, you expect him to call on you. But he doesn’t. He settles into the Grand Palace, and attends to his mother. You decide to leave them be for the rest of the mourning period.

You’re in Court the moment Vasily’s abdication is announced. There’s a few sentences at the end of the announcement that dissolve any agreements he made as the Crown Prince - rather pointedly referring to your engagement.

Fiddling with the emerald on your finger, you can feel the eyes on you as the announcement ends, and the repercussions begin to sink in. If you had been in love with Vasily, this would have been mortifying. Even now, you feel an embarrassed flush creep down your neck.

Nikolai appears at your side, taking your arm and steering you through the crowd. You do your best to look increasingly upset, and by the time you’re leaving the main hall a tear has fallen down your cheek.

Once you’re finally alone you drop your facade, and can’t help but throw your arms around him with delight.

“You did it.”

He chuckles, his arms settling around your waist.

“You doubted me?”

You roll your eyes as you drawl,

“How could I ever?”

There’s the sound of footsteps, and your eyes widen as Nikolai pulls you closer. Hiding your face against his chest, you do your best to appear distraught by the news of Vasily. He pats the back of your head tenderly, and gives whoever had appeared a firm look that has them retreating quickly.

“It appears I’m both your knight in shining armour, and your shoulder to cry on.”

Tilting your head back, you look up to meet his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smirk before remarking drily,

“My hero.” He grins.

“I give it less than a month before I’m the one giving you that ring.”

His words remind you of the ring still on your finger.

“I should probably give this back.”

As you slide the Lanstov emerald from your hand, you narrow your eyes at him.

“Six weeks until you announce our courtship.”

You curl the ring tightly in your hand, holding it hostage above his open palm until he agrees to your demands. He raises a brow.

“Courtship?”

“A month after that you can propose.”

“If I was truly courting you, we’d be married within the week.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m only after the throne.” You admit quietly.

Nikolai’s expression softens as he coaxes your fingers into releasing the emerald before he says in a low voice.

“Then we should do our best to seem madly in love.” A door opens somewhere nearby, and Nikolai offers you his arm once he’s pocketed the ring. “Shall we?”

You take his arm and the two of you leave through the side door which will lead you back to the Little Palace.

Nikolai is good company. Despite his easygoing and lively personality, he appreciates the quiet as well. He can be serious, and listens to your ideas with genuine interest. Just as he did as Sturmhond.

“Have you told your mother?” You ask him. He lifts a brow.

“Told her what?”

“That you’re Sturmhond.”

He sighs, looking down over the grounds as you continue to walk with his arm in yours.

“I’m not sure how well she would take it.”

“I’m sure you could swing it into your favour. After all, isn’t Sturmhond notorious for winning battles against the Fjerdan Navy?”

The hint of a smirk touches his features.

“I didn’t realise you were such a fan.”

You roll your eyes again, but can’t prevent the warmth flooding over your cheeks at his teasing.

“I don’t think you have to choose between Nikolai and Sturmhond.” You say. “The people would admire you for taking a hands on approach to their fight. You did your military service alongside them, and they respect you for that.”

He tilts his head as he watches you, considering your words thoughtfully.

“You could be a seafarer king.” He grins.

“I quite like the sound of that.”

Once you reach the entrance to the Little Palace, he holds onto your hand as you move to leave. You turn to look at him.

“Five weeks, before I officially court you. Then one month after that I’ll propose.” You nod in agreement, and a smirk tugs at your lips as you tease,

“And if I refuse?” He smiles.

“I don’t think you will. I think we make a good pair.”

You nod, despite the conflict in your heart.

“I think we do.”

Later on in the day, when you’re reading through some reports in the war room, you mention Nikolai’s agreement to Aleksander. He nods slowly in response.

“After his coronation we will journey to Kenst Hjerte.”

Lifting your head up from the pages in front of you, your gaze moves across the table to look at Aleksander.

“Those are the islands north of Fjerda.” You say, and he nods as he adds,

“Where it is rumoured that Sankta Ursula lives.”

Sankta Ursula - the Fjerdan name for Ulla. Your frown deepens and you tilt your head as you look at him with confusion in your eyes.

“We’re visiting your sister?”

The corner of his mouth lifts fondly, as he begins to explain,

“The heart of Sankt Feliks was stolen from his monastery by a monk several centuries ago.”

Hope fills you. If Aleksander is telling you this, he must believe he can find it. You stand from your chair, and move over to stand beside Aleksander as he looks down at a map detailing the Fjerdan coastline.

“The monk travelled north into Fjerda, and when he returned he was one of the richest men in Ravka.”

“How?”

“Ulla deals in bargains. She gives ambitious people whatever they desire, as long as they offer in return whatever it is they hold most dear.”

“He gave her the heart of Sankt Feliks.”

Aleksander nods.

“The symbol of his faith, in exchange for earthly riches.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very good monk.”

Aleksander’s smile returns as he breathes out a small laugh. You look down at the shape of the islands of Kenst Hjerte - the broken heart - tracing your fingers over the outline of them.

“Does your sister do family discounts?” You ask, worried at the thought of giving up what you hold most dear.

Aleksander slips an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“She will help us.”

»»---------------------►

Two days after Nikolai’s coronation, you and Aleksander take a small ship up to the collection of islands to the north of Fjerda. The ship is one of Sturmhond’s, and you’re not flying the Ravkan flag as you sail around the coastline of Fjerda.

Whenever you spot sight of land, or any other ships, a sense of anxiety fills you. Being so close to enemy territory has you on edge.

Aleksander had assured you that you would be fine, but the fact that he isn’t wearing his kefta says more about the situation than his assurances.

Luckily your reach the islands of Kenst Hjerte without incident. The crew stay on the ship, as you and Aleksander row out to shore on a small longboat.

Aleksander seems to be familiar with the area, as he leads you through the trees towards a rocky path. He holds onto your hand as you climb over the trail, taking care not to stand on any loose stones that might send you tumbling down.

It’s only once you reach the top of a large hill, that you realise what your destination is.

A small chapel.

The sharp wind whips at your coat, and you step closer to Aleksander as you walk along the cliff top towards the chapel.

There’s some sort of greeting painted above the door, but you can’t read Fjerdan and the faded blue letters are peeling. Aleksander pushes open the door, and you follow him inside.

There’s five rows of benches on either side of you as Aleksander walks down the aisle determinedly. You look around you, it doesn’t look like anyone has visited in quite some time.

“It’s pretty.” You say softly, not wanting to break the delicate silence that hangs around you.

Aleksander hums in acknowledgement as you tilt your head back to look up at the pearls and shells that adorn the ceiling.

“In my world, we have these mythical creatures called sirens, who lure sailors to their deaths with their songs.”

“That sounds rather like Ulla.”

“Good for her.” You remark absently as you continue to admire your surroundings. Then you look at Aleksander with a frown. “What are we doing here?”

“They’ve redecorated in the time since I last visited.” Aleksander muses as his fingers trace over a wooden panel in the wall.

He nudges it carefully, and there’s a click before the panel swings open to reveal a dark tunnel. Aleksander turns back to you with a triumphant look on his face, and he holds a hand out towards you.

You raise an incredulous brow at him, and he breathes out a laugh.

“It’s perfectly safe.”

“Maybe two hundred years ago. How do you know there hasn’t been a collapse in the middle?”

“I suppose we will find out.”

Shaking your head at him, you accept Aleksander’s hand and follow closely behind him as he ducks down into the tunnel.

When the darkness closes in, you tighten your hold on Aleksander’s hand. You feel his shadows around you, guiding you along the uneven ground and steadying you when you wobble.

The sound of water dripping down is what you hear first, then you’re stepping out into a large underground cavern. A thin beam of sunlight falls down from a crack above you, though it doesn’t provide much light.

Despite the lack of light, you still see her. A young woman, with black hair twisted up into intricate braids above her head. She’s sitting in front of a small pool of water, scooping up handfuls of the sparkling liquid and letting it run over her bare arms.

Her skin is a rich bronze, and a web of pale scars weave their way along her arms and up her one side of neck, tracing over the edge of her face on her left side. You had read the story of Sankta Ursula, but Aleksander had told you Ulla’s real story.

Betrayed by her best friend, she was burnt during a forbidden ritual to create fire that would live underwater. In response to the betrayal, she had used her spellsong to summon a fierce storm that had cracked the land in two, creating the island that you are currently standing beneath.

Aleksander moves forward.

It’s only once you get closer to her that you realise she’s humming a tune. A delicate noise that is wholly unlike anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Hello sister.” Aleksander says quietly.

Despite your sudden appearance, she doesn’t startle, and she doesn’t look up as she speaks, her voice rich and smooth.

“I didn’t realise you were due a visit so soon.”

The corner of Aleksander’s lips twitch into a half smile.

“It’s nice to see you too.”

“What do you want?”

“We need your help.”

At that, Ulla looks up and her dark eyes settle on you. She tilts her head aside slightly, watching you carefully for a moment, before her gaze falls back to Aleksander. She raises a singular brow.

“We?” Aleksander ignores her question.

“I need the heart of Sankt Feliks.”

Something like mischief sparkles in her eyes as she turns her attention back to the water, tracing shapes over the surface.

“Do you now?” She muses thoughtfully.

He sighs softly, raising a brow at her.

“Do you have it?” The corner of her mouth twitches with a smirk.

“Perhaps.”

His brows lift even higher, exasperation touching his features and she laughs, a soft yet wicked laugh. Dusting her hands off, she rises and steps towards the two of you.

She’s wearing a dress of deep purple with a torn hem, that hangs from her shoulders by fraying straps, as she cares little for human clothes.

“I have it.” She says.

Aleksander steps forward to follow her as she moves towards a gap in the cavern’s wall. Ulla stops, her hand held up to prevent him from coming any closer.

She raises a dark brow at him.

“You know my rule. I only bargain with mortals.”

The two of them exchange a firm look, and you realise that the siblings share the same stubbornness. Whilst they might have a few centuries spare to win a staring contest, you certainly don’t.

“I’ll go.” You offer, and they both turn to look at you.

Aleksander squeezes your hand firmly, to which you smile and nod in reassurance. Ulla regards you with an unreadable expression and you hold your breath as her dark eyes study your face. Then, without any sort of reaction, she says,

“Follow me.”

She turns away, and you glance over at Aleksander.

“I’ll be fine, Sasha.” You whisper, squeezing his hand one final time before you turn and follow Ulla, deeper into the cavern.

A nervous smile flickers over your lips as she pauses for you to catch up, her dark eyes fixed on your face once again. You aren’t walking for too long until you reach another, much smaller, cavern.

Rocky shelves have been carved into the walls, which stretch almost all the way up to the top, where you can see a glimmer of sunlight shining down to illuminate your every step. On each shelf there’s all manner of objects.

“Wow.” You whisper in pure awe.

Throughout the space, there’s tables and cabinets dotted around, and the whole area looks like an antique store. Ornate chests and pieces of furniture, that look like they’re from a variety of different eras, are scattered about and you wander through them.

Sparkling gems, gold coins and dazzling pieces of jewellery sit in velvet boxes and carved wooden bowls. There’s mountains of books stacked in a few different corners, alongside paintings leaning precariously against some other valuable object.

Ulla seems to know exactly where she’s headed, but you are becoming increasingly distracted. You stop in front of a beautiful looking box.

There’s a delicate painting of a starry night at sea across the lid, deep blues and indigos brightened by the small dots of white starlight. The edges of the box have been adorned with silver embellishments that you’re itching to smooth your fingers over. But you hesitate.

“You can touch, you know.” Ulla remarks indifferently, stepping back to look at the box which had caught your interest. You raise a brow at her.

“It won’t curse my soul for eternity?” A dark smirk spreads over her lips.

“The only thing here that can curse you is me.”

You glance up at her, seeing the sharpness in her eyes, and you swallow nervously.

“Noted.”

She smiles, a little softer.

Picking up the box delicately, you examine the details of the craftsmanship and once you’ve turned it around you notice a windup key at the back. Giving it a few turns, a melodic twang sounds from inside the box, and you set it back down before you open it.

A beautiful, delicate tune sings out from the mechanisms inside.

“It’s lovely.” You say in a soft voice.

“A woman gave me that in exchange for a beauty that could entice any man she wished. I believe it belonged to her sister.”

You frown.

“This is what she held most dear?”

When Aleksander had explained Ulla’s bargains to you, a music box wasn’t the kind of sacrifice you thought someone would make for their greatest ambition.

Ulla shakes her head.

“She stole it from her sister. Breaking the trust between them, and betraying the one she held most dear.”

You close the music box. A beautiful thing, with a meaningful story. Turning back to Ulla, you find her regarding you with that indescribable look once again.

“He must like you.”

You frown in confusion at her words.

“Aleksander.” She adds. “He’s never brought anyone to see me before. Not even one of his Grisha.”

She turns away, heading towards the far end of the cavern. Ducking underneath a string of cobwebs, you follow her.

Ulla reaches under a table, and drags out a rather battered looking chest. The bolts creak as she unlocks it, and the lid swings open with a heavy thump. She tugs out a few garments of clothing before she finds what she’s searching for. What you and Aleksander have been searching for.

The heart of Sankt Feliks.

It’s a dark, solid looking lump. She hands it to you, and it feels more like a large piece of bark than anything else. You try very hard to not think about the fact that this relic is rumoured to have once been an actual human heart.

Ulla nudges the chest back towards its spot under the table with a kick, before she turns back to you.

“I assume you want something in return.” You say, bracing yourself for her demand.

“Look after him.” Tilting your head aside in confusion, you watch as she wipes the dust from a pile of books. “He might be my older brother, but he certainly needs it.”

Your expression softens, and you nod.

“I will. I promise.”

She holds your gaze, her dark eyes so similar to Aleksander’s.

“I’ve learnt that promises mean very little to humans. But if Aleksander trusts you, perhaps I can believe your word.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova @mxacegrey @budugu @cynthianokamaria @scarlettqueen190 @eloquentree @sharp-cheekbones-locked @sorrow-and-bliss @biblophilefox82 @tartiflvtte @rainbowgoblinfan @savagejane1 @sande5098

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola! Thank you for the tag today, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe! Instead of six sentences, today I bring you "six somethings" - six places I'm excited to eat while I'm in London (March 24-April 7)!

If anyone has any recommendations for favourite places to eat in London, PLEASE let me know! 🍽️😋

I'll tag up here because this post is a long boi. Hello hello hello to a buncha folks! @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @thewholelemon @dohrnaira @ebbpettier @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @ionlydrinkhotwater @imagineacoolusername @larkral @raenestee @onepintobean @theimpossibledemon @whogaveyoupermission @tectonicduck

6.) Pret (Heathrow)

I know Shepard loses his tiny mind over the sandwiches from Pret, but. I dream of their Chocolate Moose. I have an absurd amount of food allergies, so finding a Chen-friendly, ready made chocolate mousse is a dream come true. So excited to cram it into my face after I clear Customs.

From My Good Egg, Good morning, good night, good morning:

“All right.” Simon goes back to fiddling with Bunce’s phone, and then he says to Bunce, hopeful, “Any chance you brought the rest of my baguette from Pret?”

Bunce says, slowly and carefully, “Simon. I do not know the whereabouts of your airport sandwich. I was rather busy figuring out where you had disappeared to.” 

5.) Borough Market

I have very fond memories of Borough Market from the first/last time I visited London back in 2018. I remember sticking my head in a jar full of dried truffles and just inhaling all that amazing, savoury, umami truffly goodness. (Like, you know, the way that normal humans do.)

From What's Left by @cutestkilla:

I’ve been hanging around Borough Market quite a bit, and I’ve had everything from cheese and croissants to chorizo and balsamic vinegar (in small sample portions only). I think, though, that my favourite thing so far was a fresh buttered wild garlic scone that I bought with some of my stolen money after trying a sample.

4.) MotherMash (Covent Garden)

I also had a good time with a pal at MotherMash years ago - I think instead of pie, I had bangers and mash with gravy, and a tiny, perfect apple pie. My spouse has never been here, but he does frequently say, "I would like to eat a whole pie," and now he will be able to eat TWO pies - one for his main, and one for dessert.

From A cake with your name on it:

Baz was still fuming about the tasting when we met up at his flat for dinner. We had takeaway from MotherMash, and Baz kept stabbing his steak and Stoutheart pie instead of eating it. 

“I’ve never met such an idiot,” he said. “A bumbler. A fool. An absolute nightmare.” 

“Okay,” I said. “We still have that list from my mother with three other bakeries.” 

Baz whipped his head around to stare at me. 

“No,” he said, loudly. Too loudly. He was oddly flushed. “I don’t care if I have to murder and then resurrect him - Simon Snow is making our wedding cake.” 

3.) Brick Lane Beigel Bake (Shoreditch)

I asked my spouse, EarlobeGreyTea, what he wanted to do or eat or see while we're in London and all he would say, over and over again, was "Bagel." He is a remarkably easygoing travel companion.

From an earlier draft of My Good Egg, which ended up getting cut/changed:

They get to Brick Lane before Baz can embarrass himself any further, and he waits outside of a bagel shop until Simon comes out with a salt beef bagel crammed into his mouth, and a very full paper bag. “This one’s for you,” he says, holding out a salmon and cream cheese bagel to Baz. 

Baz takes it, but doesn’t bite into it right away. “Thank you,” he says, slowly, thinking that maybe offering food is one of Simon’s love languages as well, along with killing things. The rats seem to be a lucky intersection. 

2.) E Pellici's (Bethnal Green)

I think my favourite full English breakfast that I ever had was at Pellici's, which is tiny and and owned by an Italian family. The owner spent most of the time I was there embarrassing one of his teenage employees and a girl who was interviewing him for a school project. The owner high fived me when I bought a t-shirt and he went slack-jawed at my powerful, resounding high five. It was great.

From an unpublished bit of My Good Egg:

In the car, Baz passes both slices of fruitcake to Simon, and Simon practically dances in his seat. 

“Are you sure?” Simon asks, “like, really, really sure? Cause I’m telling you, this is really fucking amazing fruitcake, and you can’t buy it most of the time unless you order it special - they don’t even have it on the menu anymore.” “They’re yours, Simon,” Baz says. Honestly, Simon Snow is impossible. He was ready to kill a man for Baz, or not kill a man for him, and now he’s beaming at Baz because of some fruitcake. He needs to pin Simon to a mattress and keep him there — with handcuffs, with a collar, with a ring.

1.) Dishoom (King's Cross)

Dishoom is like... truly magical. That house black daal is no joke. I lack words to describe how amazing the food is - just check out their site (but honestly, it will make you hungry). Everything I've ever had there was fucking delicious and the place and the atmosphere is so gorgeous, just lush and colourful and immersive.

I shared another snippet before about Dishoom from My Good Egg, but here's Simon on the phone with Agatha right after he's ordered takeaway:

“Hey Ags. How’re you – no, I’m not bleeding or throwing up or on fire. I – yeah, I know you said not to call you when you’re at work unless I was bleeding or throwing up or on fire, but this is an – look, it’s not for me this time, all right? Or Penny. It’s for a friend – okay, rude, I have friends other than you and Penny!” Pause. “Yes, Agatha, we’re friends, even if you – yeah, I know you said you would never do another house visit, but you said that the last time, too!” 

Baz leans back so he can catch Bunce’s eyes, and mouths, What the fuck?  

Bunce just rolls her eyes and shrugs, like, He’s Simon, what can you do about it?  

“Well,” Simon says, triumphant, “we already ordered the daal for you, so there!” Pause. “Yeah, love you too. Bye.”  

RIPs & Honourable Mentions

Cinnamon Soho (also mentioned in "A cake with your name on it") - They closed down during the pandemic. But they had a delicious Indian afternoon tea 🥲

Cereal Killer Cafe - This place was rec'd to me by one of my British co-workers (his seven kids were mad for it), but sadly, they closed their storefront during the pandemic and went online. (In my headcanon, this was where Winifred from My Good Egg wanted to go for her(?) first(?) birthday)

Fortnum & Mason - I WILL be going here to buy tea and biscuits (and to replace one of my favourite tote bags, LOL), but not for high tea or afternoon tea. (We have a few other places lined up for that, including The Swan at the Globe and Tea House Theatre). Sorry, Daphne!

Nando's - I suggested to my spouse that we should get cheeky Nando's and have top bants and he gave me a dead-eyed look as if his soul left his body

Again, if you have any recommendations of favourite places to eat in London, please let me know!

I mean, I suppose I'll be doing other things besides eating, like hanging out with my beautiful friends, going to stationery shops, visiting the flower market, seeing shows and things... but really, food is the main draw. 😂😂😂

Happy Sunday!

[i-am-distressed]

JJK Boys getting accidentally flashed by their Girlfriend

Characters: Megumi, Itadori, Yuta, Noritoshi, Nanami, Toji, Naoya, Geto, Gojo, and Sukuna

Warnings: Implied 'nudity' cause, y'know, getting flashed. Naoya + Sukuna, Yuta’s turned out very detailed and warning for his cause curses are gross, mentions of injuries/implied blood, Noritoshi’s is eXTREMEly self-indulgent, allusion to sex in Toji’s and Sukuna’s but nothing explicit or suggestive (obviously), you guys are married in Toji’s, Naoya’s and Sukuna’s. Kids in Naoya’s, cursing in Sukuna's but I 'censored' it :)

**I write Naoya and Sukuna with some necessary changes, please hold your judgement☺ These are long but give it a chance-**

Fushiguro Megumi:

Due to his job as a student/Jujutsu Sorcerer, Megumi was usually pretty tired when you guys got to hang out.

So, the first thing you guys typically did when you met up after school was nap for a good hour or two.

Which worked out well for both of you since he finally got some rest and you got cuddles and a chance to play with his hair.

On this particular afternoon, Megumi had basically crashed the minute he hit the bed, you not far behind to lay on his chest while he zonked out on his back.

It had been just about 2 hours when he woke up, one hand going up to rub his eyes while his other arm wrapped around you to hold you tight.

You smiled when you felt him moving, turning ever so slightly to give him a small peck on his shoulder.

He smiled and turned to look at you, only to see that while he was sleeping you had changed into a loose tank top. A loose tank top that had...shifted, to give your boyfriend a view you had not intended to give him.

He was so flustered he didn’t realize how red the tips of his ears had gotten and how wide his eyes had gotten, not to mention the fact he hadn’t said a word.

Thinking he had fallen back asleep, you looked up only to see your boyfriend seemingly stuck in time as he looked at something.

Following his gaze you gasped, rushing to fix your shirt.

That seemed to snap Megumi out of his daze, that and your non-menacing ‘pervert’ you muttered, it’s not like you really cared (you were more embarrassed than anything) but the opportunity to tease was much too good to pass up.

“I- hEy! It wasn’t on purpose! You’re the one that flashed me…”

“I don’t know Megumi...you were awfully quiet for awhile there, didn’t even warn me😔”

You may or may not have gotten hit with a pillow following that remark.

Itadori Yuji:

You and your boyfriend Yuji were celebrating your two year anniversary, and this year you had both decided on going to an amusement park!

It was a pretty hot day, and you’d be walking a lot so you decided on a cute loose t-shirt and shorts and some walking shoes.

You guys had just gotten on this rollercoaster, and from the looks of it this one was going to be fast.

The ticking as you went up the first and very tall hill did nothing to quell the excitement/fear you were feeling, and it also did nothing to keep you from taking your boyfriends hand in yours.

After that first drop, it wasn’t too bad! But it was definitely on the faster side.

You guys were almost done, the end was in sight.

You turned to ask Yuji what ride you should do next when one sharp turn caught you off guard and flipped your shirt up into your face.

Right when Yuji had just so happened to have turned to talk to you.

Trying to ignore the utter shame you felt you tried to fix your shirt, your boyfriend then leaned over you to stop anyone from getting a peak as the car pulled back to the start.

You felt so embarrassed after it, but when you tried to apologize he just shook his head, gave you a kiss on your cheek and grabbed your hand to drag you off to the next ride.

Okkotsu Yuta:

**Unlike the others, this happened before the two of you started dating, you were still just really good friends**

You and Yuta had been sent out on a mission together.

You were a little nervous since it would be your first time going against a special grade, but you were confident you’d be able to do your part. Plus, having Yuta there was helpful in more ways than just his power.

The fight was a tough one, this curse you guys were fighting kept breaking the ground and shooting debris everywhere, it was easily blockable and it really wasn’t that dangerous.

But it did prove irritating.

Along with making tears everywhere in your jacket and skirt, you had been left with no choice but to kill the curse when it was up close and personal, so you were also covered in gross stuff.

To keep yourself from throwing up then and there, you unbuttoned your top and shrugged it off your shoulders, wincing at the cuts that had amassed during the fight.

You planned to quickly exchange it with the spare you kept in your bag, the debris had caused a bunch of dust which was acting like a curtain to shield your half-naked self from the eyes of the world.

But most importantly, from the eyes of your crush.

Unfortunately for you, your bag had gotten caught under a somewhat heavy piece of concrete.

Which would be no problem for you to lift if you hadn’t run through a fair amount of your cursed energy.

In your exhaustion, you must have made your struggle known with the grunts and obvious sounds of struggle you were making.

Yuta, who had a radar for you on anyway, heard this and started making his way over to you since he’s a considerate lad and you could be hurt!

You had just gotten it off the ground when it finally shifted enough for you to get your bag out, and you, being ever so coordinated, stumbled backwards.

Right into the open arms of Yuta, who immediately went red when he realized you were no longer wearing a shirt.

His jaw dropped as he tried to form a sentence, say something, anything to make sure you knew it was an accident.

Poor guy was so scared you thought he was a creep, he couldn’t look you in the eyes for almost 3 days.

That is until Maki locked you both in a room until one of you confessed💖

Kamo Noritoshi:

(This one may or may not be self-indulgent since I’m a clutz-)

You and Noritoshi had been sent to get something from the principal’s office by Utahime.

You were walking in front of him, paying little to no attention as to where you were walking as Noritoshi lost years off his life watching you stumble and almost trip.

So, okay, maybe you were a little bit clumsy, so what?

“Y/n, would you please be more careful? You’re going to fall.”

You turned your head to look at your boyfriend with an unimpressed look on your face, continuing to walk as he was even more on edge now that you definitely weren’t looking where you were going.

“Have a little faith in me, would you? I’m not that clumsy-” Just then, your foot caught a root perfectly, resulting in an untimely fall to the ground.

Which, thanks to years of falling face-first, you were more than prepared for.

Noritoshi, who felt his heart stop, quickly went to aid you, only to realize that your skirt had shifted with your fall, leaving you partly exposed to the world.

Partly exposed to him.

He quickly made his way to your side, helping you up as you laughed and dusted yourself off, noting the quietness of your boyfriend.

Usually when this happened, and he was quiet, you’d be in for a lecture.

But this time you noticed he was quiet...but he was also blushing.

You guys continued walking, you definitely weren’t complaining about not being told off, but you weren’t a fan of his silence. And...since when did Mr. Blood manipulation blush…?

“No lecture today?”

Noritoshi, who had been very deep in thought almost jumped at your voice, huffing as he tilted his head downward and picked up his pace a little.

“No tights today?”

You stopped at that because...he typically didn’t care what you wore, he was actually pretty laid-back except when it came to your safety.

“It’s August...so no?”

“Then i’d recommend you be a little more careful, had it been somebody else walking behind you, they would have seen something they shouldn’t have.” Your eyes narrowed at his words because...what was he talking about??

Sensing your confusion he turned towards you, eyes cracked open and a small smirk on his face. Leaning in close, he whispered.

“When you fell, your skirt lifted.”

And proceeded to walk ahead and into the principal’s office, leaving you in a whirlwind of emotions with no idea how to process them.

Nanami Kento:

You were over at Nanami’s place, in his kitchen cooking dinner with him.

You guys didn’t get to have dates often, but thankfully you guys both had tonight free. And seeing as you both have been busy, a home-date sounded nice to both of you.

Nanami was working on opening a bottle of wine while you were fiddling with the stove top.

Nanami had recently moved into this apartment, and it was really nice. But the oven was much different from yours, so it was taking awhile for you to get used to it.

You had finally gotten it on and you put the frying pan on the burner to heat up.

You turned your back to it and leaned against the nearby counter, appreciating the view you had of your boyfriend’s back and biceps.

It was safe to say you were distracted.

So distracted, that you didn’t notice that the shirt you were wearing had been just close enough to the burner that it had caught on fire.

You felt your hip getting a little warm, so you looked down and gasped when you saw that you were literally catching on fire.

You scrambled to rip the shirt off you, throwing it in the thankfully empty sink as you turned the water on, successfully avoiding a major problem and any serious injuries.

Shaking your head, you turned to your lover with an apology ready on your lips, only when you met his eyes, he quickly turned around.

Clearing his throat, he returned to his previous task of cutting the vegetables while he instead nodded his head towards his room.

“You can wear one of my shirts, they’re in the second drawer.” You nodded and made your way into his room, shaking your head to try and rid yourself from any further embarrassment and cool down your overheating face and neck.

Little did you know, Nanami was trying to cool down the burning red on his own face, as well as trying to focus on the vegetables.

Fushiguro Toji:

**In this you two are married and you’re Megumi’s momma**

You guys had recently adopted a cat from a nearby shelter, Toji didn’t want a cat, but between the puppy eyes of not only his young son but his wife, he was never walking out of the shelter without one.

Only, you didn’t walk out with one, since the cat Megumi chose was a female, and pregnant.

So now you guys have 4 cats.

Your kittens were older now, just about 4 months. So you and Megumi would let them out during the day (supervised and with their momma of course) and bring them back in at night. Toji didn’t really care what you did with them since they made you both happy (and it kept you both occupied-).

Toji had come home from a particularly grueling day at work, his shoulders were stiff and he had a small headache, and all he really wanted was to drag you to the bed so he could sleep on top of you while you ran your fingers through his hair and he could finally get some decent sleep.

Does he get that? No.

What he does get is you and Megumi yelling up the tree in front of your house for “Cat! Come down from the tree!” ‘Cat’ was the name of the kitten you and Megumi had forced Toji to name since ‘he had to have one too’, even though it was really just so he had no choice but to let you two keep them all.

Sighing he walked over to you both, ruffling Megumi’s hair and giving you a kiss before he stuck his hands in his pockets and asked the question he didn’t want, or need, the answer to.

“*sigh* what happened?”

Frowning, you looked back to the tree and pointed, revealing the small kitten who had managed to get herself, or himself he couldn’t remember, stuck on one of the lower branches.

“Well, he’ll come down eventually.”

You smacked his arm as Megumi’s eyebrows pinched together, little arms crossing in front of his chest, “It’s a she, daddy. And she’s just a baby! You have to get her down!”

Groaning he brought a hand up to rub his eyes, “There’s no way i’m getting up that tree, I’m way too big, and daddy’s tired”

Pouting, Megumi stood in front of his dad (Let’s say Megumi is 3~), little hands tugging on his pants leg, a little “please daddy?” coming from his trembling lips.

“No, daddy’s right, he’s too old to get in the tree,” You smirked at the glare you got from your husband, “But, if daddy helps me, I can get in the tree.”

So, that’s how you ended up in a tree, gently handing ‘Cat’ down to your husband, who quickly passed her down to Megumi, and found yourself struggling to get down.

You and Megumi had been out and about earlier, and you were wearing a comfortable dress that day, so being in a tree was less than ideal.

With the promise of Toji catching you, you jumped, not expecting the wind to carry your dress, and unintentionally giving your husband a show. Luckily, your son was much more interested in the kitten.

You felt your face heat up as you quickly fixed your dress, your husband just laughed with a ‘nothin’ I haven’t seen before babe’ which was quickly followed by an ‘ow!’ when you smacked him. </3

Zen'in Naoya:

You and Naoya were preparing to have dinner together.

He was sat at the table, finishing up some paperwork while you finished up the food.

Your 2 children, your 5 year old son and 3 year old daughter, were also sat at the table. Your children both telling their father about their days while he listened. (I know he’s literally awful, but if I can pretend Toji isn’t an awful father, I can pretend Naoya isn’t an awful person✌😌)

“And then, Momma told the guy off! It was awesome daddy!” Naoya raised his eyebrow with the smallest hint of a smile tugging the corner of his lip up. “Oh? Did he start crying too?” You gave your husband ‘a look’ while you walked to the table, setting the first dish down on the table before you turned to get another.

Your son giggled, “Like a baby!” Naoya chuckled, shaking his head as he took a sip of water.

He couldn’t help but think back to your younger days, specifically the day the two of you met when you told him off, the day you changed him, and finally the day you made him cry as you walked towards him down the aisle.

“I bet, Your mother has a habit of making men cry.” You sternly called his name from the kitchen as he snickered, your kids breaking out into their own fits of giggles.

You walked back into the dining room carrying in the last dish, shaking your head as you lightly bumped him with your hip as you passed him, him lightly patting your butt as you walked by. “Stop feeding my kids lies.”

He just smirked as he lifted his glass to his lips, he was in the middle of taking a sip when you bent down to place the dish on the table, your shirt dipping low to the point your chest was on show, giving your husband an, albeit welcome, unintentional view.

Choking on his drink, he set the cup down in favor of beating his chest with his fist, you coming over to rub his back, your children looking over in confusion cause...what the heck dad, that was weird.

“What happened? Do I need to get you a sippy cup?” Glaring at you he was finally able to stop coughing, you patting his back as you went back to your seat and sat down.

You raised an eyebrow at him, since he had still yet to tell you why he had suddenly choked on his water. But it was then you noticed just how red his face was, and how low his gaze was.

Looking down and realizing your shirt had drifted down, you fixed it and smirked, struggling to hold in the laughs and snorts that were sure to explode out of you.

Even after almost a decade of marriage, it was good to know you could still make your husband blush like a teenage boy.

Geto Suguru:

You and Geto had gone out on a date!

It was a nicer place, so you were wearing a cute spaghetti strapped dress with some nice shoes, and he was wearing a button down with slacks (sleeves rolled up to his forearms of course🥵).

You had just finished dinner and were now on the walk home.

All night you had been paranoid about your dress, you had gotten it when you and a friend had gone thrift shopping. It was honestly in pretty good condition, the only problem was that the dress’ straps had a good amount of wear on them, so the straps weren’t really that great, and you could feel them loosening as the night went on.

BUT, you were going home now, so it really didn’t matter much anymore.

Geto was lightly swinging your hands between you both as you told him the recent drama you had learned at work.

You were holding your uncomfortable shoes in one hand, and obviously Geto’s hand in the other, so your hands were occupied.

“You would not believe how messy that got. In case you ever think about cheating on me, just remember that man’s gonna be finding glitter in his car for at least a few decades.” Geto laughed as he shook his head, nudging your shoulder with his, “Good thing we don’t have to worry about that, I’m not dumb enough to cheat on my crazy girlfriend.” You made a ‘hmph’ sound and nodded, “Crazy for you~” and laughed when he shook his head.

You guys kept walking, discussing whatever topics came up.

You were almost home, so close to freedom. You called Geto’s name, about to tell him something you had remembered, when you both heard a faint *snap*.

Guided by the rush of cold air you felt hit your chest, you looked down and gasped, you would’ve been quicker to cover yourself except for the fact that both of your hands were occupied.

Working quickly because...you both were still in public, Geto let go of your hand and shrugged his jacket off, draping it around you and grabbing ahold of your hand when you were covered.

You apologized for flashing him and he shook his head, obviously it wasn’t your fault and it’s not like he was complaining.

Gojo Satoru:

Due to a particularly bad run in with a cursed spirit, your usual uniform was trashed, so you had to wear your backup uniform, which also ran small.

All day, you had been fighting with your skirt. It was too tight and too short, and was providing you with a substantial amount of stress.

It was lunch, you were half way through the school day, half a day away from going home and getting to wear your sweatpants.

“Oh Y/n~” Half a day from getting rid of the walking headache you called your co-worker.

Sighing, you stopped from where you were walking in the hallway, turning to face him you raised an eyebrow. “Yes Satoru?”

So, yes, you were ‘co-workers’ and yes, you were technically just friends.

But there was also a painful amount of mutual pining and tension that hung between you two.

“Hey, hey, what’s with the attitude? You’ve been like this all day, it’s gonna start hurting my feelings.” You grimaced as you once again adjusted your skirt, “Yeah, well, you’d be a little irritated if you had to keep fixing your skirt every 2 seconds.”

Gojo hummed, “I can imagine, so, care to join me for lunch?” You replied with a ‘sure’, and the two of you made your way to the teacher’s lounge, side by side.

You walked to the fridge and pulled out your lunch, Gojo not far behind you and you both did the necessary prep you needed for your food.

Gojo finished just barely before you, and was already sitting on one of the couches, happily digging into his food.

Once the microwave stopped you pulled your food out and started walking over to the couch.

You sat down, carefully, and began to eat your lunch.

Despite causing you mass amounts of pain and most likely a gray hair or 2, you thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Gojo, I mean, you were kinda in love with him.

“Ah, Satoru, Y/n, just the two I needed to see.” Gojo’s (likely inaccurate) account of his latest mission came to a pause when Principal Yaga walked in.

He had some information about a mission the 2 of you would be going on in 3 days. Apparently this one would be an undercover mission, and a few days.

During the conversation, Gojo (who tries to always have one of his six eyes on you at all times), had noticed your skirt riding up, and seeing as he liked you, the last thing he wanted was for you to embarrass yourself in front of you guys’s boss.

Keep in mind, it’s not like Gojo was having a great time either, you were sitting right in front of him, but it’s not like he could interrupt the principal and loudly announce you were about to expose yourself.

Thankfully, Kusakabe walked in at that moment, stealing just enough of his time for Gojo to catch your attention (like he didn’t already have it🙄) to mouth ‘Your skirt’ while he made a subtle tugging motion with his hand, going back to like nothing happened and stealing the attention of the men while you fixed your skirt.

That mission may or may not have preceded your first date with him.

Sukuna Ryomen:

You and Sukuna would be going on a date tonight, and you had spent the last half hour or so getting ready.

Your hair and make up was done, you had showered earlier, and all you had left to do was get dressed.

You had gotten dressed in your underwear when your mom had called.

You didn’t get to speak to you often and it had been awhile since you had talked, so you spent a good amount of time catching up and filling each other in on the things you had missed.

It had been about 15 minutes, you were sitting down at your vanity, pants on but still no shirt (hey man, a distraction is a distraction, let me have this i’m tired-).

You were so caught up in your phone call you hadn’t noticed that Sukuna had walked into your shared apartment.

He called out to you, but you didn’t answer. He would’ve been more worried than irritated if he didn’t hear you talking on what he presumed to be the phone.

If he knew you weren’t ready yet, he would’ve knocked, but seeing as you were on the phone, the last thing he expected when he opened your bedroom door was to see you half-naked sitting on your vanity stool like this kind of thing was normal.

“Sh*t. Warn a guy, will you? I’m not complaining but you near gave me a heart attack.” You screeched as you almost threw your phone, apologizing to your mom, you glared at Sukuna as he gave you a look that tip-toed between amusement and bewilderment.

“What, it’s not like I haven’t seen your-” You threw your pillow at him before he could finish his sentence, with your mom of all people listening to your conversation.

You two might have been married, but the last thing you needed was your mom pestering you about grandchildren again.

In case you’re wondering, he was laughing the whole time as you beat him with said pillow for saying those kind of things to your mother.

[uselesssomebody]

𝕍: 𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 (high school sweethearts | eddie munson x reader)

complete masterlist | stranger things masterlist | eddie munson masterlist

��𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖 𝕒 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕, 𝕟𝕠, 𝕠𝕙” - high school sweethearts | melanie martinez

words || 𝟜.𝟙𝕜

summary || in which eddie and the reader can't handle the way that their relationship had changed.

series masterlist || high school sweethearts 

a/n || part five, and it's sad girl hours ➵ thank you to the anon who betad this for me! ➵ part of miniseries; check the masterlist ^! ➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

taglist || @natashaashleymarvelromanoff @hamartohierophobia @alinepichi @hqtetsurou @aedicn @vampfvngz @joequinn94 @lidsmcgee @preciousbabypeter @spencestyles @1800-fight-me @greetings-and-salutations @bellevsoares (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment or p.m. me!)

warnings || angst ➵ a threat of violence ➵ a verbal argument

‘there is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.’

jane austen was the first author that eddie had not put her on, always having been a bit put off by more classic literature. the language and notoriety always made him feel like he was having to write up assignments for o’donnell as he read them, whereas she found a sense of peace in the notion that, even nearly two centuries ago, so many of the same emotions, thoughts and feelings that everyone exhibited have remained the same, even though they were characterized differently by the styles and trends of the era. 

even with that, the feeling of love still managed to be everlasting.

he’d teased her a little when she’d mentioned the sentence to him. sure, he thought it was somewhat poetic and—more importantly—true, but he’d found that she tended to have a rather wide smile on her face whenever he joked or teased, so he did it every chance he got. 

now, those chances had become more and more common. she had found herself to so easily be able to slip back into their routine after the speedbump a little while back, that her return to normalcy was not taking a step into the past but, instead, a leap into the future, as she had started falling further and further into the comfort that she found in him. initially, it had existed in the way that his hands had lingered on her, be it on her cheeks, her hair, her waist, or even just her fingers, finding himself fiddling absentmindedly with her hands as he spoke to her or someone else. then, it had turned into the evenings and weekends they spent touring hawkins—be it in his car or on foot. most of the time—contrary to eddie’s more explosive personality—the pair found themselves in a silence: a calm, warm silence. it allowed them to enjoy each other’s company in its purest form.

she’d actually started becoming more and more excited every time he whisked her away to help him set up, or prepare, or play through any of his campaigns. although she still avoided participating, a little intimidated by the several books containing vast amounts of knowledge

he’d lug to each session, she found herself hopping, skipping and jumping to them.

similarly, she’d become a regular at the hideout, taking a table right in front of the bar every other sunday in order to be center stage for corroded coffin’s performances. the first few times had been a little awkward, especially considering she’d actually seen both the blond and the groupies from that night, but the way that he’d act as she gushed over his performances made her drunk on his giddiness—the two of them giggling in the corner and gareth, jeff and grant rolled their eyes and scoffed in mock disgust at the cute pair.

she also got to wear his rings for every set—a huge plus. 

soon, she’d even become well acquainted with the inside of his house, spending many a evening when everyone else was busy attempting to complete homework as eddie spoke about something to her in a soft voice, or lightly strummed and plucked at his guitar, humming along to whatever notes he was playing. 

mr. munson had been more shocked than others when eddie’d first brought her home. sure, his nephew had mentioned something about a girl he was seeing—though the two never talked much, owing to the lack of detail. he was a bit jarred to see that she didn’t look like someone hanging on this side of town, and was even more shocked to hear the chipper sound of her voice as she greeted him, sticking her hand out for him to shake. it was adorable—sweet, he thought—and he knew that she’d be good for his nephew. sure, the older man tried, but the workload was always a struggle, owing to their somewhat distant relationship. he found himself thinking that a little bit of sweet in eddie’s life would probably help him.

they had started spending more time together alone than they did with others, and it was becoming very obvious to the both of them that their relationship was nowhere near centered around their original, fake dating dynamic. they figured the best way to describe themselves would be as ‘friends’, but everytime eddie thought of that word in conjunction with her, it was like two clashing colors or images, contrasting so heavily in his head that he’d simply stopped thinking about it like that now. 

and maybe that was owed to the fact that he loved touching her. he loved swinging an arm around her neck, placing a hand at her waist, toying with her hair whenever she sat by him or rested on him. he loved pressing chaste kisses to her temple in front of their friends, and he loved the more upset and jealous looks that he’d begun to garner from some of the guys, who were starting to find it odd and upsetting how enamored she was with him. he never missed the opportunity to squeeze her hand or pull her into him whenever they saw jason or marcus, owing to both of their hard stares at the couple. 

it had begun eroding at him, though. all the things they did and were doing had become akin to routine for him, but he still found himself stilling as she was tutoring him, or as she was helping him plan a campaign, as he remembered that, truly, it was all fake.

his leg had been bouncier than usual, his fiddling more erratic, and his touches few and far between. it was on his mind often, that it was fake, that all of it was fake. he knew what he’d signed up for, he knew that she’d leave him the moment that she was out of her predicament, but he had found himself getting too invested into a fake relationship. he’d found himself wanting to tug her into him whenever they were alone, for her to confess the same proclamations of love that she did whenever they were out with friends—to affirm what he so deeply hoped.

he knew, though, somewhere far under that hope, that she would never do that. he was a means to an end, much like she had been for him, and he knew that, given the freedom that he was helping her attain, she could do miles better than him. and, as hard as it was for him to think it, he knew that she deserved better than him. she was intelligent, diligent, kind and so goddamn pretty.

he was—and he’d hear the angry voice in which she’d shouted it that night—the resident freak. 

he supposed he didn’t just have himself to remind him of that fact. no, others had been sure to remind him—especially one man in particular. 

the center of hawkins had a smattering of small shops—all of which had really grown since the burning of starcourt mall—the mayor’s office, the police station, and the post office. the biggest building there, though, by far was the church, the cross at its top rising up starkly over the other establishments. 

eddie had been inside the general store, looking for batteries for his flashlight, and a new pad of paper—his previous one having been filled to the absolute brim with campaign planning. he carried the batteries in his pocket, and the pad of paper was tucked under his arm. he was fumbling with his keys when he heard a gruff cough behind him. whipping his head around, his hair spinning over his shoulders, he can faintly recognize the man in front of him, his eyes flicking to the bible tucked behind his arm. 

“can i help you?” he says it as neutrally as he can—though, really, he wants to swing a fist straight into his jaw. the resemblance between her and her father just makes it worse, as he wonders how such similar people could be so wildly different.

“edward munson?” he said it through gritted teeth, and his obvious distaste makes eddie smirk. usually, he hated that others hated him, but he was more than happy that people like her dad hated him.

“the one and only.” the smirk was starting to get on the older man’s nerves, along with his attitude. 

“you’re friends with my daughter?” he swallows thickly because of the directness of the question—as well as how to answer it.

“something like that—look, can i help you?” he was starting to get a little exasperated, and he was starting to wonder how she managed to live in the same house as the man. her dad laughed humorlessly, as the bible under his arm was gripped more tightly. 

“no—no, son, nothing like that.” he spoke to him as if he was just any guy, and it made eddie a little queasy, “i just want to let you know that most of us in this town—we’re good friends. that church?” he pointed in the direction of the unmissable building, “it’s full of good people. this town’s been through a lot. it shouldn’t have to deal with any more harm, should it?” he looked as though he wouldn’t continue until he got a response, so eddie reluctantly agreed.

“alright..?” he didn’t really know where the man was going with this, but he wasn’t particularly excited to find out.

“and harm—harm comes from bad people. rotten, faithless people: criminals, heathens. they make a town like this cursed—rotten to its damn core, right?" eddie knew exactly what he was implying. he gripped his key more tightly, and swallowed thickly. 

“aren’t abusers also bad people?” he said it quietly, and the man’s face fell for a moment, in a brief flash of shock, before becoming a hardened look of anger. 

“you be careful with what you say, boy.” the man heaved deeply, before licking his lips, “you’re ruining her life.” for a moment, eddie feels as though the wind’s been knocked out of him. as much as he disagreed with the prick in front of him, that didn’t stop a masochistic part of himself agreeing with his statement. 

“i-i’m not.” even he doesn’t believe himself, and the man smugly smiles.

“you don’t deserve her—she doesn’t deserve to be dragged down to hell with you.” suddenly, that moment of uncertainty breaks, as he remembers why her father believes all these things—still uncaring of his daughter’s opinion, and instead wholly worried on her religious obedience. he stood upright, turning to unlock his car door and open it. he smiles up at him brightly, but all the man can see is a rage in his eyes. 

“i would ask if you need a ride, but uh—” he cuts himself off, relishing in the shocked expression on the older man’s face. disallowing him from continuing to spout his bullshit, he climbs in, rolling up the windows practically in his face. 

he can’t help that the man’s words stuck with him that drive home, though. and then that night, and the night after that, and the day after that. 

he didn’t deserve her. 

she’s in the library with eddie, once again. 

though, this time it felt different. she can observe him twiddling with his chains and rings, as his leg bounced erratically. he was distant—and he had been for the past few days. of course, they still spoke, but she noticed his eyes were, more often than not, thoughtful and glazed over, and his mind constantly seemed to be elsewhere. all the small touches and little whispers were similarly absent—and his dumb jokes and full grins were things that she didn’t see too much anymore.

she enjoyed that the rigidness that had so defined their relationship had faded with ease, leaving them with the ability to be comfortable in each other’s lives—be it both the public and more personal aspects. it was a welcome change from the awkward touches, the conservative hands, the small distance that they maintained for a while. she had been realizing, though, that over the past few days, they had begun slipping into that attitude again.

well, he was, and while she still tried to maintain his attention and affection, she was finding it more and more difficult to return him to his enthusiasm whenever they were alone. not to be misunderstood, he still played the part of a doting boyfriend beautifully, but—considering he’d become rather reserved and quiet over the past few days—that act seemed especially devastating, leaving her confused as to what exactly that she’d done wrong. she’d tried to show her adoration for him: her interest in his interests, her engagement in his life, her clear affection for him, but he still strayed away from her, now not even looking at her in the eyes anytime they were alone.

she wondered exactly what had caused this abrupt and out-of-the-blue change, and she constantly fretted as to if she’d done something, or if he was having second thoughts about the whole ordeal.

sometimes, she wondered if he’d just realized he hated her. 

it was a thought that she despised entertaining, though—as his demeanor became more and more reclusive around her—she can’t exactly stop the ugly thought from rooting in her brain. 

she can’t bear it. she finds herself wanting to retch when remembering that their basis of interaction was fake-dating, horrified by the thought that he might not even come close to thinking about her as she thought about him.

she’d just come to the realization—she was sure—a few days ago. 

she thought the world of eddie munson, and it was a damn shame that she’d only managed to solidify that fact after he’d already given up on them. 

she wished he’d just hug her again. she wanted to slip his rings into her fingers, and to have him both recommend and discuss books with her again.

honestly, she just wishes he’d look at her again. 

it was a late friday night, wherein the lot of them had been meeting steve and robin at the family video. some of the more branched-off hellfire members even joined, such as max, lucas, and shockingly, his young sister erica.

they were all having eventful conversations while steve and robin handled customers, with lucas and erica constantly arguing as to what movies they should rent out for the weekend. dustin was bothering steve, robin was laughing at the pair, while mike seemed to be in slightly stiff discussion with max.

only robin noticed the uncharacteristic quiet of the couple, the both of them on opposite ends of the building, silently browsing movies. eddie’d occasionally told dustin to quiet down, and she’d helped settle lucas and erica’s debate, but that was about all they’d said the entire evening.

the blonde sees her check her watch, grimacing a bit at the late hour. with a look of steely resolve, she walks over to the metalhead.

“eddie?” she didn’t call him by a shorthand anymore. he didn’t call her princess, “i’ve got to get going.” he visibly tenses, before turning.

“alright, who’s bedtime is it?” he calls out in the building, and all the freshman groan in unison. he smirks at the lot of them, gesturing to the door. 

it’s funny, and she wants to laugh, but it feels off, knowing how differently he acts when they’re alone. 

they all pile into the van, with erica very upset at her predicament of being stuck between her brother and his girlfriend. systematically, eddie drives through hawkins, dropping each kid off at their respective house. they finally get back to his place, where the couple parts ways with max, her giving a tight-lipped smile as a ‘thank you’. 

for a moment, the two sit in eddie’s van in silence, before she swallows thickly. 

“are you gonna take me home?” he doesn’t answer for a moment. 

“you can just stay at mine for a bit, right?” immediately, she checks her watch. she knows that she’ll be cutting it close, but she’s also a little curious as to why exactly he wants her to stay with him. nodding, they both get out of the vehicle, and he’s quick to follow her into his place.

he gestures for her to sit, quickly passing her a coke and grabbing one of his own, before plopping down next to her. he’s fixated on the pull-tab of his soda, avoiding her eye and, with a roll of them, she sinks into her seat. he’s still silent, so she clears her throat. 

“did you—did you want to say something?” 

“hmm?” he hums, still not looking at her. she sees a lightly confused expression on his face, and he doesn’t continue, so she mutters a small ‘never mind’ before taking a long sip of her coke. 

as she finishes the drink, she checks her watch once more—neither being able to fathom returning home without warning any later, nor being able to handle the stiff, silent atmosphere surrounding them. she stands up, chucking her can, before smoothing out her clothes. 

“‘m sorry, eddie, you’ve gotta get me home.” she feels a little bad because of her reliance on his car, but then again, he was the one to neglect dropping her off in the first place. 

he finally turns to look at her, a hard expression on his face. 

“you don’t need to-”

“can you just take me home?” he was tiptoeing around something, and frankly, she was quite annoyed by it. he was keeping her out late, doing nothing to capitalize on that time, and now refusing to take her home—what the hell was up? he looked down at the floor, his voice going soft.

“don’t go home tonight. just—just say you’re with robin, but don’t go home.” he’s got a pleading tone to his voice, and it finally convinces her shoulders to slump and her features to soften. tentatively, she sits back down, leaning forward lightly to try to convince him to look at her. 

“stay with robin—why?” she’s more confused than anything, and eddie looks up at her with a hard glare once more, that moment of softness gone.

“it’s just—it’s just not good for you. what’s the point in going home if you’re just going to suffer through silence and—” he catches himself, not wanting to give away anything he knows, worried it might upset her. instead, he emphasizes, “silence?” for a moment, she stared at him, mouth hung open, before she scoffed, pushing herself away from him. 

“how the—” she’s backing away, and her voice is shaky, “hell is it any different, then, from staying here with you?” 

“you—” he looks at where she’s standing—so far from him, and it makes his chest twang, “you don’t mean that.” he knows that she doesn’t mean it, he knows that she’s just responding to what he’s said, and that she thinks that he doesn’t understand her issues, but it still makes his heart break.

had the hero ever become the dragon? he didn’t want to be the first.

she’s not looking at him, arms folded over her chest and cheek turned to him, her deep swallow therefore prominent. even in the low light, he can see the drop of a tear on her cheek. he moves forward—slowly—wanting nothing more than to wipe the offending liquid off her cheek, but she backs away once more. his heart somehow breaks further. 

“i do, i fucking do, eddie. i hate being around you now—can’t fucking stand it. because you hate me.” he wants to scream, he wants to tell her that he could never hate her, and that the mere insinuation makes him want to rip himself into pieces. 

“don’t say that—god, please don’t say that.” he’s pleading, unable to bear hearing anymore. his voice cracks, and the rawness makes her push her head into her hands, wanting to hide the new wave of tears on her face.

“then tell—” she’s cut off my a sniff, “tell me what’s wrong! tell me why you’re so quiet! did—” she finally looks at him, still wiping her tears, eyes glazed in earnest, “did i do something?”

he wants nothing more than to comfort her, shaking his head violently to reassure her that she wasn’t the problem—she’d never been the problem.

“no—no, you didn’t do anything.” he reassures her, unsure of how to even begin explaining his problem to her. 

that she was everything he could never be. that she was the best thing in his life, while he was still the same man she’d hated a few months ago. that if he tried to explain it to her, she’d give away her chance at true love with a real man to be stuck with him instead, and that might hurt him more than having to see her with another person in the way only they had been so intimately.

to think of her smiling so widely at someone else, to blush so deeply for someone else, to try so hard with someone else—the concept made him want to dig a hole and die, but he knew it would be better with someone else as opposed to him. he didn’t deserve her—he never had. 

seeing his silence, she moves closer, standing a foot away from him and looking into his eyes solemnly.

“what happened, ed?” she hadn’t called him by the nickname in some time, and it made his body puff up in joy—but only for a moment, remembering that she shouldn’t have that relationship with him. he sucked in a breath through clamped teeth, shaking his head. 

“you wouldn’t understand.”  

she pulls herself closer to him, gripping his arms with a tightness that makes it seem as though she doesn’t want to ever let go. 

“then help me.” god, he wants to tell her. he wants to tell her so bad.

“i-i can’t.” all her muscles stay tensed for another second or two, likely hoping for some addendum to his useless answer, but it didn’t come, making her entire body slump. her fingers slip out of his, and she throws his hands back into himself, turning away with a garbled groan. 

“unbelievable!” she’s crying again, making her words come out unevenly. she doesn’t care, “you can’t?” he doesn’t say anything, instead looking at the ground, and she rises up, making a beeline to the door, “i’m fucking going home.” 

“don’t go home.” it’s almost an order, and he doesn’t look at her as he says it. his tone makes her scoff. 

“you can’t make that decision. you don’t even fucking care about me.”

“i’m the only one who cares about you!” he bursts, both in exasperation and anger. can she not understand that he was pleading for her? that he just wanted to keep her safe—to make sure she didn’t get hurt? 

he rises up, and she stares at him without backing down.

“take me the fuck home, or tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”

“no.”

“that wasn’t a yes or no, asshole!” she’s going to grab the door, and he stops her, reaching for the handle and blocking it. 

“you are not going home.”

“i hate you! i fucking hate you!” there’s a shouting match beginning to erupt, and the hot tears had begun to slide down her cheeks. eddie could feel the prickle of liquid grace his own eyes, and he blinks harshly to dissipate them. 

“you’re supposed to.” she stills for a moment, before she lets go of the handle. he does as well. 

“i hate you.” she repeats, but it’s quieter.

“i know.” it’s a whisper. 

it’s over, the heavy feeling of finality hanging over both their heads. eddie steps back, knowing that he has no means of stopping her, and knowing that if he kept on trying, the inevitable moment where he stopped would hurt that much more.

“i’m going home.” it’s almost as though she’s trying to remind him to keep stopping her because, though she knows she can’t stay and repeat the loop, she doesn’t want it to end just yet.

“go.” in that word, he establishes the finality, making her sigh deeply. she looks into his eyes one more time, absorbing their shape, their doe-like appearance, the sadness in them. she tears herself away from her position, lightly pushing the door open and stepping out. as the door swings and clicks closed behind her, she finds her tears restart, blurring the gravel road in front of her—already dimly illuminated by the few streetlights. 

she wasn’t going home, she’d just left it.

[all-things-fic]

Spoilin’ for a Fight

A/N: Happy Sunday loves! Hope you’ve all had a lovely and restful weekend. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you... I have indeed (finally) posted another piece of writing. Here’s 6.7k of Harry riling up his partner all because of a bloody vest.

Thank you as always for all the love and patience everyone has given me. Especially @waitingfortwilight, @haute-romance-quotidienne and @harryfeatgaga. Hopefully this lives up to any hype the sneak peek created! I’m going to disappear again .x 

***

You rolled your lips into your mouth as you watched him walk his way around your master bedroom. His movements were confidently familiar as he tucked his vest into the waistband of his white boxer-briefs and kept his eyes down to the dress shirt and trousers he had laid out across your bedspread, sitting next to choice accessories. 

He was running late. Both you and he knew it. Yet the leisurely motions he undertook would never have told you that if you didn’t already know. The way he had taken longer in the shower, carelessly stepped out of the towel (and stepped over it too, meaning the item was now damp and in a bunched up pile closer to Harry’s side of the bed waiting for someone to put it in the laundry basket) and meandered his way through getting ready. 

Boxers first, then black ankle socks. Then the bloody vest. 

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to release a breath that would catch his attention and let him know that you were becoming slightly vexed by how lackadaisical he was choosing to be.

The vest had to go.

Not even in a sexual way either. 

And it wasn’t the fact that it just wasn’t doing it for you - on the contrary it was quite the opposite, the tight item clearly letting you ogle and appreciate the fine specimen you were proud to call your partner - but it was just how much of grandad-move it was.

You understood how having some sort of undershirt kept his actual shirt looking pristine acting as a defensive layer between his body and his clothing.

But, the vest had to go. 

It just had to.

Blindly reaching down to your dresser for your tube of mascara, you unscrewed the gold lid and coated the wand with product. 

Mouth slightly fallen, you washed your lashes with the High Density Black mascara and quickly made the switch to the other eye making sure to get your bottom lashes too. 

Looking at Harry through the mirror, you wondered what he could be debating as he stood silently in the middle of the room. A soft frown traced his brow, his eyes looking down at the bed. His hands were digging into his waist, as his lips jutted slightly in thought. 

Your conclusion was that he was debating his outfit choice for the evening. 

Lid gently screwed back on, you placed your mascara into your cosmetic vanity, before then reaching out for your brow gel. A quick brush through each side and you were done with that step.

You happened to quite like his outfit choice. It was a little less formal than usual for one of your dinners. Classic houndstooth patterned trousers and smart black shirt. The kind of material that made a scratching noise which was music to your ears as you clawed at your man, wanting him closer. Whether that was in the booth of a restaurant, on the car ride home while you were sat at a red traffic light, or when he had you pinned against the locked door for your house. 

Eyes dropping, you watched as your hands - with freshly lacquered nails - gently drew the opening of your silky-satin dressing gown together as it started to gape. 

From your fidgeting, Harry’s attention was stolen by the movement he had seen in his peripherals and when you next looked up at him in the mirror you were met by his already awaiting gaze.

His face looked worn, as his still slightly damp hair fell across his forehead. Lines lingered in his skin from the way his head was tilted and his arms were bent as his hands faffed around with what appeared to be a trinket box. He must’ve reached for it at some point while you were otherwise occupied. 

Gold cross dipping underneath the neckline of the vest, the width of his chest seemed to be getting wider the longer you kept your eyes on his reflection. In moments like this you always became hyper aware of the amount of tattoos that were scattered across his body - arms, shoulders and chest. If you were able to let your eyes drop lower, you were sure the ones of his legs would be just as vivid.

But while everything else about him just seemed content in the moment, his eyes were different. They were strong as they held yours. Waiting for something. 

And you knew you couldn’t keep his gaze as you let your words leave your throat, albeit with less conviction than you originally thought them.

If you were after a bicker before dinner then he was absolutely going to bite and give you what you wanted. You just knew it. 

“You’re not going out in that, are you?”

“‘S there a problem ‘f I am?”

A charged pause.

Harry’s remark was shot out instantly, on yours as fast as a predator was on their prey. 

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you looked back at him through the mirror. A slant to his lips as he waited once more.

Gentle raise of his eyebrows. Faint but definitely there. Goading. Knowing you would be so aware of every moment, every twitch with your eye for detail. His eyes shone in a way that he was daring you.

Oh, he was spoiling for a fight. Most definitely. 

See, this wasn’t new territory for you and Harry. He knew that it sometimes got on your last nerve in how he opted for a vest to cover his top half as an undershirt but especially when he only wore that as the item of choice and simply slung a suit jacket over the top to complete the outfit. 

Like that one time when he attended The Store X The Vinyl Factory's Transformer exhibition and swung by your then rented London townhouse after said event in the small hours only for you to chastise him on the doorstep for how he hadn’t even put on a proper shirt for the evening. 

That night he had teased you - “‘least let me in the door before you start dressing me down, darling. Especially considering ‘m halfway there with not putting on a clean shirt an’ everythin’” - in that slow draw that maddeningly managed to warm you through even when you were irritated with it’s orator. 

Blinking, you knew you needed to respond but you weren’t sure which route you wanted to take with your tact. 

“Not a problem, ‘s just not my favourite.”

“Didn’t realise we’d become tha’ sorta couple,” he paused, his sentence obviously not finished. When your eyes met his again, he continued, “The kind that tells the other what they can and can’t wear, can and can’t do.”

Sighing, you fiddled with your diamond earrings and spoke, “Forget I said anything.” 

“No, no,” he spoke clearly, ringless hands rising in defeat. “You don’t like the vest, ‘s fine. Allowed an opinion.”

“Nice to know.”

A suppressed laugh spluttered from Harry’s lips as he pressed them together. 

Looking at him again, you watched him wrinkle his nose up at you through the mirror. By now your gaze was flat and you were far from impressed with his taunting.

“Come on,” he encouraged, eyes alight.  “‘S have a row.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“‘S healthy to tell me to piss off every once in a while, y’know tha’?”

“So, piss off.”

“Ouch,” he dragged the word, playing offended. “Could say it wi’a bit less conviction next time.”

“That’s if we make it to a next time,” you muttered, seeing his smirk. “‘M not doing this.”

He watched the way you snatched at your other earring, your hands quick to try and place it gently to your lobe but in your haste you fell foul of losing the item. 

“Shit,” you hissed when the dainty jewellery slipped from your grip and to the wooden floor below with a dull clink. 

“Hang on-“

“It’s fine,” you rebutted any chance of his offering to help, swiping for the earring and managing to make good the second time around. 

There was tension in the air now as Harry remained quiet while you continued busying yourself, ignoring the bubble of annoyance and unexplained upset simmering within you.

Gently scooping at your necklace next, you fiddled with the clasp of the fine chain and tilted your neck down as you raised your hands and arms to place the necklace onto yourself. 

From behind you, Harry nervously chewed at his bottom lip. He knew the outcome wasn’t going to go well as he looked on at your slightly shaking hands struggling to successfully bring the two sides together. 

Rather than point out the possibility of ruining the nails that you had endlessly chewed his ear about all afternoon and constantly stuck under his nose to show off; he waited with baited breath, more than willing to step in if required.

It was when he heard the small and soft growl omit from your mouth with sheer frustration that he decided to change tact.

Gone was the trinket box, tossed aimlessly back onto the bed with a soft bounce. His hands gently placed to rest against taut shoulders, Harry leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head. Nose tickled by your hair he muttered into the silky strands, “Let me, darling.”

You froze as you sat in your seat, eyes still slightly lowered from the way you had dropped your head. Frantically blinking as you mulled over how you were going to play your next move. 

Harry hummed, noticing that you had gone quiet on him, knowing you wouldn’t want to engage with him just yet considering how soon he had previously provoked. He just had to wait it out a little more. 

A slump came to your shoulders at his words, partially irked at how he had been the one to coil your spring - pushing and pressing and prodding - and now he thought he could be the one to so easily offer you release. 

“Let me just-,” he spoke more so to himself, cutting himself off, as he scooped your hair into his hands and mumbled soft apologies considering he knew you had spent some time on styling. 

When he was happy that your neck was open enough and there wasn’t going to be anything to hinder him with your tresses over one shoulder, he reached for the item. 

Harry’s right hand met yours first, his thumb and forefinger easily pinching at the delicate chain that he knew so well having been the person to pick and purchase the item. 

Surprised at how easily you gave up the treasure, Harry darted his eyes to your left side and reached for the other side of the fine chain. 

“Have you got it?” You were reluctant to let the one side of the necklace go, in fear of losing the pendant that was currently bouncing against your chest from the way you held the jewellery item. 

Again, a throaty hum vibrated through Harry’s chest. 

“Which idiot chose the finicky clasp?”

“You did,” you outright answered him.

He chuckled in concentration, eyes zoned in on the way his thumbnail pressed at the clasp to hold it down, and his left hand fed itself to the right. “‘S right, I did. Fucking big idiot over ‘ere.”

You then felt the chain gently tickle the back of your neck as Harry let the item go. “But he’s only gone an’ bloody done it.”

Lightly sighing, you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the necklace sitting cooly against your hotter than usual skin. A soft smile at Harry’s choice of words to let you know he had successfully put on the necklace. 

Slightly inside your own head as you raised it to sit up straight, you quickly busied yourself with returning items that you had been using to get ready, to their rightful spots.

Behind you, you heard Harry chuckle as he gently dropped himself down to sit on the edge of your side of the bed. He was clearly amused at how you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Ignoring me now? Not even gonna gi’me a thank you?”

If you hadn’t been so stubborn, and focused on the task at hand you would have heard his question and thanked him. However, given your own bloody-mindedness, you never stood a chance. 

Learning forward, Harry’s hand reached down to one of the four legs that made up your dressing table pouffe - the one closest to him - and swiftly pulled. 

Of course, you squealed. The quick change in motion was enough to cause anyone to omit a noise fit only to dogs hearing due to its pitch. 

“‘Ve got yer,” he spoke around a chuckle, enlightened by your reaction as the chair scraped against the flooring and made it so you were virtually sat in his lap. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed...”

Sharply, you turned to look at him and pushed at his shoulder. “Hope you’re not implying-“

“Wha’,” his expression was boyishly cheeky as he cut you off with his question, his hand keeping hold of yours that had pushed his shoulder. “What am I implying?”

Nostrils flared as you looked at him, feeling your arm slowly wrap around his neck as he tried to pull you closer once more on the chair. Legs man spread, he managed to slot you in between his thighs and enjoyed the way your soft knees squashed into his inner thigh from how close you now were. 

“I’m implying what the proverb is implying,” he smarmily responded, forever having an answer for everything.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” he turned, noting the way your arm was still draped around his neck.

“Shame that,” you commented. “Cause if you were alluding to the other thing then you would’ve really gotten the fight you were looking for.”

Harry’s eyes cut to you from the corner of his vision, his lips now pressed gently against your forearm. “Would I? If that’s the case, I take it back.”

Again your nostrils flared, as you mumbled a veiled threat of, “Swear to god, Harry.”

“So, so easy to wind up-“

Harry’s voice was abruptly cut off when your fingers came into contact with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled as hard as you could. His only response was to gently graze his teeth to the skin of your arm and the silk of the gown in the tiniest of nips as he ascended to your neck.  

“D’yeh know how much I love fighting with you?” He mumbled against your skin, “How much I love doing anything and everything with you?”

“Have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” you swallowed around your dry response, feeling his lips quirk against the shoulder of your silk gown as he gently brushed your hair away once more.

With it falling down your back, you became all too aware of the gape to your coverup, revealing your clavicle and the top of your breast, as Harry’s lips rubbed against where your neck and shoulder met. 

Growl-like hum heard from your suitor, you gently pushed your finger through his drying hair. Forcing it in haphazard directions before bringing it back and smoothing it down. 

When he showered you with affection like he was currently doing, it was hard to stay mad at him. Which is why you found the direction of conversation so intriguing. What was he trying to achieve here? Whatever it was, he really was going the wrong way about it. 

“Know why I love fighting?” He felt you shake your head lightly as he brought you back to him with the question. The rustle of your hair against his was heard prominently in your ears as he now lightly rested his forehead to your temple. “Yea’, you do,” he disagreed with your non-verbal response, tone gritty as he tried to rouse once more. 

“‘S cause I love shagging when we’re angry,” he heavily pressed his nose into your cheek, knowing you were watching him through the hooded eyelids regardless of how you wouldn’t fully let your gaze meet his long enough to be suckered in. “How you really dig your nails into my back an’ shoulders when I properly get going - not to mention my arse cheeks - and how it feels when I step under the shower the next morning and wince like a little wuss.”

You laughed breathily, stopping your feelings of joy by biting down on your bottom lip. Laughter however played on your lips, lingering in a soft smile that danced along and up the corners of your mouth.

“Fight me, darling.” 

Amused didn’t even cover it as you pulled your head back in a slightly uncomfortable way to look at him. The smoulder of his dilated eyes that were clearly set on what he wanted, they jarred so evidently against his messy hair that looked fit for a toddler who had woken from a heavy nap.

He seemed awfully whiny for a man who was confident with what he wanted. Supposed to be the instigator of an exchange of diverging or opposite views, creating most likely a heated happening. Then again, maybe he was onto something.

Soft frown set in the middle of his brows, his eyes dropped so brazenly down to your lips. A quick swipe of your tongue had them glistening enticingly for him as saliva lingered and caused his groan to get caught in his throat. 

Hand against the back of your head, he tilted your face down to his once more and let his mouth sit at the corner of your lips. Your breathing and his had started to become staccato, as anticipation bubbled within you both from your shared close proximity. 

“‘M waiting,” you challenged knowing he would rise up to the provocation, as his hand turned you face a tiny amount more so when he stuck his nose against yours, so they would slot perfectly together.

Harry’s vision blurred as he felt your warm breath bounce against his face, licking his own lips now and rolling them into his mouth to take away any dryness. 

Hand drawing you to him and mouth about to take your bottom lip, he felt the soft draw back of your head causing his lips to tweak as his breathy laugh mixed within his short and sharp exhalations. 

“‘S tha’ how it’s gonna be?“

You fought the way your hooded eyes wanted to close at the gruff tone that laced his question, wanting to marvel in the glow that had started to coat the skin of his face. 

“Said you wanted a fight.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth were his lips abruptly upon yours. His hand spread across your entire cheek as your free hand reached for his wrist and tightly gripped. Noses squashed from the force; desperate to have each other. 

Harry's lips were fierce and bruising, his body feeling heavier against yours as he rested his other hand against your chair and gave you more of his weight. 

For him your smell was everywhere, as your other arm wrapped around his neck and clawed at the fabric of that bloody vest. The sweet of your hair care juxtaposed against the woody florals of your perfume that sensually drew and tied him to you.

Knees knocking together, you felt the way his hand stumbled as it peeled away from the chair and clawed at the silky fabric of your gown. Fingers quickly became frantic as his concentration moved to his hands that lifted fabric and slipped underneath craving the feel of your warm, soft skin.

With his mouth slightly slower and fallen as he was pulled elsewhere, you tried to take the lead as his hands wandered and he explored.

His hands were softer than usual, time away from music and instruments meaning the callouses had faded. Short nails were dull as they clawed, fingertips dancing against your plush thighs as they flattened to the seat and then upwards along your hip, scooping around your back and confidently spreading out just shy of the top of your bum.

God, he loved knowing you were completely naked underneath. How with a quick and sharp tug of his hand, he would have you bare to him.

Small press against your lower back had Harry silently asking you to raise and fall into his lap. You ignored him at first, far too wrapped up in the way he gave you his tongue around his quivering lips that were trying not to smile at the way the two of you were shamelessly necking on and he was managing to get his own way. 

Pressing your toes into the patterned antique Persian rug which sat underneath your bed, your body created a break between your thighs and their seat. Harry took advantage of the space without any need for a nudge, his hands curling against the clammier, warm skin as he urged you once more to come to him.

Your knees hit the side of your mattress first, lifting and mounting Harry’s lap and he moaned as he enjoyed your full weight against him. Fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, you felt him squeeze as he started to lower himself down to the bed.

Body laying atop an outfit priced easily in the early thousands, Harry hummed clearly letting you know how pleased he was with himself. This was only solidified by the crack of his hand, as it slapped against you bare bum cheek now on show. 

“Can’t believe you’ve got your arse in the air like this,” he rasped, head lifted so he could leave lingering kisses to the hinge of your jaw. 

Mouth slightly dropped, you could feel the way his right hand danced against the curve of your cheek and the way it dipped as it met the back of your thigh. 

His eyes were on your face, chin soft as he tilted his head down to his chest. You admired him, somehow able to find a stillness woven within a intoxicated, sensual love between the lewdish comments and suggestive wandering hands. 

Lips melding to the skin of your cheek, he asked,  “Who’re you showing it off to?”

“You, ‘f you want it like that.”

The coolness of the room hit your bare skin even more as Harry roughly pushed up the fabric of your gown up as he palmed your cheeks once more, skin massaged and squeezed between his digits.

Raw groan, he found his voice, “Turn over for me.” 

Harry slid himself closer to the side of bed, hands making light work of his socks and his briefs before he turned to throw you a glance over his shoulder.

You had removed your gown, item somewhere now on the floor revealing yourself to him proudly. 

As you lay gently on your stomach, the expanse of your bare back on show for him. He greedily let his eyes wander, the curvature of your shoulders and the indentation of your spine line. 

The way your right leg was slightly bent creating a crease to your hip and your left leg a little straighter. You certainly gave him plenty to devour with his sight. 

He didn’t give it much thought when he joined you back on the bed, his hands pressing into the mattress closer to your head.

Bare fingers caught your attention as you watched his hands scrunch around his expensive dress shirt, the familiar scratching sound music to your ears as it caught against his nails and not yours for once while he threw it to the floor at the bottom end of the bed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to make it to tha’ dinner,” he spoke, his words not really warranting an answer. Beside your hips, you could feel his knees as he leaned for the trousers on the other side of you and pushed them out of the way too.

He continued with, “Already late. ‘S no point.”

From the way he spoke you wondered if this was what he had been aiming for all along. To scrap dinner and have his way with you. It wouldn’t have been the first time and definitely not the last. 

Eyes already heavy from the deep lull of Harry’s voice, they closed when you felt his lips hit your back, making light work of inhaling you in. His mouth was wet as he reacquainted his lips with your skin, suckling the lower he got.

Nose gently sweeping down, you found yourself dropping your forehead to your forearm giggling from the light tickle, only to sharply cry out as his teeth sunk into the top of your cheek and your head lifted once more. 

Your hand reached behind you pressing against his forehead, “Don’t you dare leave a love bite on my bum.”

His lips twitched at your squealed but breathy chastise, tongue laving against the startings of a mark. “Always begrudging me of eating, darling.”

A devilish grin laced his features as you dared to look over your shoulder at him and take in his gaze that owlishly looked at you from behind your curved hip. All you could see were his eyes as your hand gently pushed his head while he pulled your hips upwards with him, lips skimming the backs of your thighs. 

“Mm,” he started. “Not everything though, ‘s tha’ right?”

The man simply didn’t want to part from his meal.

“You always did like dessert better.” 

There was nothing more Harry loved than when you let him put his face between your legs. But when you let him do it from behind, he couldn’t even explain the difference yet there was one.

Maybe it was the way he could grab and smack your arse, fingers digging into your hips as he got to pull you onto his face when things started to get hot and heavy. That animalistic grab to your hip bone, loins pulled onto his face as he went to town.

Even better when you would push back against him. So caught up in the way he felt that you couldn’t wait any longer. He could talk to you easier this way too, really coax you not only with the feel of his tongue but the words that dripped off it too. 

And then there was the possible anticipation of assplay. Tongue always ready and willing to stimulate if it were desired and communicated. 

The way his hands massaged you, softly pulling apart your rounded cheeks and opening you to the cool air of your bedroom almost stunned. Your body quickly gathered itself with a warm moan when you felt his warm salvia drip messily down onto your ass and your middle. 

Then he was leaning forward - lapping at your skin - lapping you up. Tongue greedy at your cheeks and folds, building his own desires before he actually ate. 

This was his starter. 

The most feminine gasp exited your open mouth when you felt his mouth land where you needed him the most, somewhat too cautiously for your liking at first but you knew he sometimes liked to play this game. You found yourself wiggling back, Harry’s hands wrapping around and squeezing into your thick thighs welcomingly when he knew you’d caught on. 

He hummed, pleased that you had fallen from his meek offerings and gave you more of his mouth. 

“There’s my girl.”

“H,” you panted, pressing your forehead onto your forearm. 

“Fuck,” he muttered against you, enjoying how you were letting him have a taste. Your sweetness quenching his starved fancy. 

You were wet, but he wanted you wetter. Just wet enough so that you were tacky when he tapped himself against you teasingly. 

With his eyes closed, Harry opened his mouth wider as he pulled your hips back to his lips. His nails dig into your skin as your hands clenched into the sheets beneath.

He worked slowly against you, tongue licking at your wetness and saliva mixing with your early arousal. Nose buried inside of you as he devoured you in a way that had you thinking he had been wanting you this way for weeks. A little bit rougher, grabbing you to him and not in the way that quickies usually brought. In a way that sex selfishly commanded sometimes. 

“God, baby-“ how was it always so- gratifying? 

With his eyes closed now as he tried to focus, Harry felt your body shuffle and his own limbs followed after you without restraint. Your bum became slightly raised as you pressed your arms deeper into the mattress due to the way you began to play with yourself.

Your fingers swiped upwards in gentle pulls against your clit, Harry’s mouth barely letting up. He must’ve figured out what you were doing though from your slight change in position as he hummed against your heat, light mutterings that you couldn’t make out. 

“‘S tha’ feel good?” he asked, voice hot as he pulled back to bring his focus onto the glide of your fingers against your wet and neglected clit. “Couldn’t wait, wanted to play.”

You knew you were slick, you could feel it but rather than feel embarrassed you found yourself without a care as you pushed yourself back again. His chuckle made you feel on fire, “Not done with me? Still need some more?”

His lips and tongue dove straight back in rather than wait for a verbal answer, feeling the way your legs widened further when he licked in a particular way. The smell and taste of you was everywhere, gleaming against him with a tackiness that was the perfect piece of free memorabilia. 

Breathing heavier, you both listened to every small gasp and light moan that was drawn from you. The sound of his lips pulling at you making a heat spread across your chest and down to your core.

Harry knew your reactions like the back of his hand, and was waiting for that one sound that was so sweet and enough to get him to cheekily pull away. 

The thought alone had his lips curving into a smile against you, as he felt you starting to clench against his tongue from your joint efforts of pleasure. 

“Harry,” you whispered, rushed. The slow burning feeling starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your fingers began to move with that little bit more fervour. “Want you.”

His mouth was away from you and against the skin of your bum cheek not long after, lips messily wiping as he moved them up your back leaving a trail of arousal in his wake as you felt yourself fall flat to the mattress as he mounted you. 

Hands pinched into the skin of your back, Harry pressed his pelvis against you. 

Feeling him nestled between the cheeks of your bum, caused your eyes to close. He was so full and hard for you, you couldn’t contain the throaty moan that accompanied his grind into the dip of your bum.

“‘M gonna fuck you,” he panted, hands sweeping your hair to one shoulder so his lips can find your skin again. “Want that, hm?”

Your fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he craned his head to look at you. His left hand pressed into the bed, holding his entire weight as his right hand reached down for his leaking cock. 

“‘S this what you want- how you want it?” He goaded in question again, gently tapping himself against the skin of your bum before he slid himself down and watched as you slightly raised your own hips for him and started to reach behind you to encourage him to press his weight on top of you.

Harry lined himself up, pushing forward and shifting his eyes from his sinking cock and up your back to see your head dipping forward to fall between your shoulders. He knew he’d never grow tired of the welcomed blissful moan of ‘yes’ that always left your lips when he finally gave it to you.

Humming deeply, Harry bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires. 

He swore, in the least teenage boy way possible, you were always tighter to him like this. Especially if you crossed your legs at your ankles behind him while he pushed into you. 

It was usually the position you adopted when you’d let him take you this way, however in the dusk evening he could feel that you had lifted your legs up so your calves were resting against his bum and holding him to you; cutting his shallow thrusting short to press and hold him deeper inside. 

As his pelvis flattened against your bum, he gritted his teeth and released a deep noise from the very back of his throat. The sound had you giggling, slightly wiggling your hips from beneath him, the moment quickly halted by one of his hands cupping at your skin.

“Darling, steady,” he warned.

“Come on,” you wiggled again. “Fuck me then.”

Pulling back, Harry nudged forward just as smooth, the intent behind his thrust obvious. Eyes dropped down he enjoyed the bounce of your cheeks from the force of his pelvis.

A content hum left your smiling lips as you jolted from each push of his hips; his grunts of exertion delightfully pleasurable as his hands pressed into the mattress next to your waist. 

Thrust measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what they wanted and needed. How to get it too. Undulating and determined.

Harry’s eyes closed as he felt you squeeze him, your legs dropping away from the cheeks of his clenching arse and down to the bed with a soft bounce. You moved again and he followed, legs opening wider against the mattress beneath you both. 

The way your face was now half buried into the sheets, muffling your moans that were usually hot against his ear and coaxing him to places he was still dumbfounded he was able reach let alone find. 

Teeth gritted once more, he could feel the tightness in his limbs and lower back. The work of his hips was unyielding but you were opening up to him, only making him want to continue the steady rhythm. To push and pull. To chase.

And it was enough. It was nice. Simmering. And if you opened your legs just that little bit wider you could rub yourself against the sheets but you wanted to give as good as you could get. Being engulfed wasn’t going to give you that. 

“Give it to me,” you requested, “Harder, baby.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Really need it, don’t yer?”

He pulled you upwards, hands at the curve of your waist so his fingers indented and left lighter marks against your skin from the pressure.

Now on your knees he could really have his way with you. 

Soon the sound of your skin slapping together only started to add to the growing fire in the pit of his stomach and yours. The sound of it so obscene but so welcomed to both your ears. 

Harry’s eyes raked over your naked body, the pert cheeks of your arse bouncing enticingly against his hips, to the tops of your fingers that were fisting tightly into your bedsheets. Knuckles so prominent due to the unrelenting grip.

He had noticed that your body was on its way to folding in on itself, arms stretching above your head and hands finding purchase on your plush bed pillows closer to the top of the bed that had been reached and pulled for by your own lack of knowing what to do with your hands.

“D’ya love me?”

His question was so gritty. Throat dry from his heavy breathing. You found yourself collapsing again. 

Your body, in its lethargy, started to curl up into itself with hands pressed down and your legs bent as your arse begins to bob more against him rather than thrust itself back.

“Said d’ya love me.”

He was sharp with his thrust.

“So much-“

It was wet and it was gasped. Low moan as he cracked his hand against your cheek.

“‘S tha’ the sex talkin’,” he heaved goadingly, and you knew he was smiling. It wasn’t the sex talking, but it could be. Both so taken by the waves of pleasure that could easily sway even the most sound of minds.

You whined into your arm from his smarmy laugh, a writhe to your hips as Harry licked at his thumb and pressed it enticing against your arse. Gentle rubs had you gasping his name and pressing back, as his thumb slid down to collect your arousal that was sat coating your outer walls and his cock each time he retreated.

As you became more excited, his thumb pressed against you with a bit more pressure, gently popping inside and sitting there. 

“Harry,” you whined, the loudest you could around biting your lips, a soft frown forming against your brow at the pleasurable intrusion. 

“You fuckin’ love it,” he growled, watching as you pushed back against his next thrust. “You dirty mare.” 

Heavy frown against your brow, you dropped your head onto your forearm once more and felt yourself start to clench around him. “Yea’,” he muttered to himself, “You’re coming.” 

Nodding your head against your forearm, you felt his free hand rest onto yours that was pushed above your head. He pressed down, fingers slotting through yours as he grunted in time with his harder thrusts into you.

With shaking thighs and aching knees, you feel your mouth fall as his teeth grazed over your ear and his heavy pants warmed your already perspiring cheeks. 

“Don’t fight me,” he pleaded. “‘S nice to give in.”

His head was heavy against your temple, your hair messily in your face. You felt your expression fall as you teetered, starting to lean slightly more to one side. He was nodding, you didn’t know who to but you knew what about and you found yourself craving his narration of whispered ‘yeses’ but instead you were both overcome and the best he can do was huskily groan to encourage you.

Suddenly it tipped and your limbs started to shake as you pressed back against him both in want of more but more so to ground yourself so you didn’t collapse. He stuttered from your vigour but held you there, feeling you helplessly writhe and mercilessly squeeze around him. His cock grinding and dipping into you, drawing out each tremor, desperately seeking its own sexual gratification.

Your other hand was wrapped around his face, fingers digging into the back of his neck and whispering begs for him to come inside of you. Pleas of how you want him to give it to you. Fill you up.

And you were lewd because sometimes that was how he liked it.

Such a pretty face and pretty mouth - yours - speaking to him in such a way. Admonishment was forgotten. Who needed or cared for it when his balls were pulling up tight with each slap against you. 

And then he collapsed against you. His thighs roughly spread you as he clenched and groaned deeply - guttural - giving you everything he had. 

Blood rushed around his ears as he shuddered and shook, the force of his orgasm causing his hips to continue with little pushes just to be sure he was done. Lost to himself, the silence and his sensitivity. 

He roused to your dirty snicker, one of disbelief. Right hand wrapping behind to feel for his arse cheek and digging your nails there, wanting to keep him deep inside, or just behind you for long enough to feel him pressed flaccid and wet against your cheeks. 

The filthy reminder caused you to flush, as Harry shuffled behind you, lips seeking out your clammy skin. 

“Make you mad more often, ‘f tha’s my private penance.”

His words were muffled, spoken into your shoulder as his hands soothed and massaged over your joints in preparation for the aching reminders tomorrow. 

And the vest was still on. 

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

all three heartbeats

bakugou katsuki / f.reader

genre: married au (husband/wife), angst, hurt/comfort?, fluff, katsuki being a sap in lowercase

synposis: katsuki works full time as a prohero, but his time working to ensure the publics safety kept him busy- far too busy at times.  he seeks comfort in you and his newborn little girl because the both of you keep him grounded and keep him fighting. he just wishes he could find a way to feel like a better father and husband. 

w.count: 3.6k

a/n: hi hello i aint never written for bnha before and i thought i would never write anime fics again but here we are years after (it has been actual years, someone save me LOL). what better way than to start back out with blasty amiright? 

It was one of those nights.  Katsuki had just walked into his home at an ungodly hour and as he shut the door behind him, he leaned his back against it, He flicked all three locks of the front door shut and dropped his duffle bag at his feet before he tipped his head back to rest on the wood.  He closed his eyes, sighing as he had the urge to just sink to the floor of the entryway landing and power nap. 

Lord knows when his phone would buzz or ring again- his seemingly never ending work calling him to clock in again. It seemed like recently he never clocked out of his job- always working, patrolling, fighting petty villains trying to commit petty crimes and occasionally stopping more dangerous situations that kept him on edge and busy for hours to days on end.  

The duffle he dropped at his feet was full with his gear and his hero suit that was in desperate need of washing and minor repairs- things that if he even muttered to himself about, you would happily offer your aid. 

His closed eyes opened and his chin dropped back down, the back of his head coming off the door as he pushed the rest of his body off it as well.  He heeled off his shoes and ruffled his hair as he finally walked into his home, leaving his duffle at the door as he made his way to the bathroom.  

In all honesty, Katsuki wanted to go immediately to the room he shared with you where he knew you were asleep. He desperately needed a shower though, and he wasn’t planning on crawling into bed to hold you smelling like sweat, smoke and hero work.  

You told him before you didn’t mind his post-work scent, in fact you told him it was charming in it’s own way since it was proof that Pro Hero: Dynamight worked harder than anyone else to one day be the No.1 Hero he’d been dreaming of his entire life. 

Katsuki never told you, but he’d think about that almost everyday and it always made him smile when he did. 

The shower he took was brisk and quick because all he wanted to do was go to bed.  He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t just taking power naps on the couch at the agency. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to go to sleep in his own bed. Katsuki couldn’t remember the last time he got to hold you and it was starting to really piss him off.  

Since graduating UA, getting engaged, married and then having a child with you, is tempter had considerably settled.  He wasn’t entirely tame by any means, he was still a quick fire with insults, refused to use people’s names and stuck to stupid nicknames he thought of, cursed like a sailor and exploded when something mildly frustrating ticked him off- but he wasn’t like he was before.  

When Katsuki can stand to be in the same room as Todoroki and Midoriya and not blow a giant fuse within the first sentence exchange, anyone would call that progress.  

It was no shock that you were a large factor in his settled image- he had to start leaning self control and how to manager his attitude.  The one extremely rocky point in your relationship with Katsuki back when you both were third years and you threatened to leave him if he didn’t shape up made him change.  It wasn’t easy, but the arguments and fights you both had back then serve as a reminder of how far he had come according to you. 

When Katsuki stepped out of the bathroom, he sighed- feeling refreshed- as he walked to the bedroom with a towel around his waist and another over his head drying his hair.  It was way too late to be running the hairdryer, he’d risk waking up his child that he knew was otherwise dead to the world in their crib.

Twisting the doorknob as quietly as he could, Katsuki stepped into the bedroom and his eyes immediately looked to the bed, seeing your body’s shape beneath the comforter of the giant, Alaskan king bed you insisted you absolutely needed.  

He felt his lips twitch as he left the door cracked to let in a small amount of light from the hall without stirring you.  He went to his dresser and snatched a pair of shorts and a tank top and threw them on before he left the room as quietly as he had come in. 

Katsuki went back to the front door and picked up his duffle bag, moving it into the living room and setting it on the couch to fiddle with it in the morning. He grabbed his phone from the side pouch of the duffle and began to shut the lights off and retreated back down the hall.  

Before he went back to the room you slept in to join you, he stopped first in the room that was directly across the hall from his and yours and as quiet as a mouse crept in.  

The nursey was painted in a pale yellow with sunflowers painted on the walls (curtesy of the bakusquad who insisted they were in charge of nursery decorations). Against the wall was a shelved cubby for toys and items for the baby and beside that was a changing table.  Across the room was a tall dresser filled with way too many baby onesies and outfits for the future. 

Katsuki walked to the white, wooden crib at the back of the room as the room itself was glowing in the soft, blue light of the baby’s nightlight.  He leaned over the crib side and looked down to see his child sleeping just as quiet as can be.  

He smiled as he reached down and stroked her chubby cheeks with the back of his knuckles.  She was warm and soft. 

“Hey there, Girlie,” he whispered, barely audible. Just watching his little girl sleep so soundly made his chest warm. God, he loved her so much.  He frowned as he thought about how tough it might be on you while he’s away looking after her by yourself.  She was barely a few months old and he hasn’t even had a weekend with you two yet.  

Katsuki bit his lip to keep from letting the disappointment he felt in himself slip out in the form of growls. 

He stuck around in the nursey for a few more minutes, just petting and admiring his child before he snuck back out and finally, finally went back to his room and as carefully as possible slid into bed.  

You slept in the center of the bed that could easily fit four sleeping bodies, and Katsuki shuffled in further towards you before he was right behind you.  He stared at your back in the dark room, his eyes adjusting more and more as the minutes pass.  

Katsuki lightly grabbed your shoulder before he was pulling you to your back and then reaching over you to lay on your chest.  On an ordinary day, Katsuki would be happy just holding you, but he felt especially worn out and drained. So, for once, even if you were sleeping, he just wanted to be held instead. 

His cheek pushed into your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat beneath his ear. His right arm stretched over your shoulder to rest by your head and his left stayed beside his own body, his right leg hiked over your waist to be as close to you as he could get. 

He felt his eyes roll before he shut them, finally feeling comfortable and warm and safe for the first time in days.  He was finally breathing easy and all he wanted to do was stay here, in your arms, for the rest of his life. 

As he started to finally doze off, his eyes fluttered open at the feeling of something carding through his hair. 

He heard you take a deep breath before you were shifting just a bit to curl around him more and he felt your chin push against the top of his head. 

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered, feeling your sleepy gaze on the top of his head.  The small, sleepy chuckle that left your chest hummed against his cheek. 

“Welcome home,” you whispered, sleep laced heavily in your voice as he felt your lips push against his scalp.  “How was work?” You ask so innocently, but the question only made Katsuki burrow his face into your chest further. He doesn’t answer you, so you prompt him further. “Katsuki?” 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered, lifting his face just enough to speak clearly then pushing it back down again.  

You say nothing at that and instead return to just carding your fingers through his semi-damp hair as you bask in each other and the silence of the house.  You glance over to the alarm clock, seeing the time 4:03 am in orange, glowing numbers. 

You feel like you have loads you want to talk about with Katsuki, things you want to share with him that had happened and things you want to have him tell you that’s happened, but it’s too quiet and too peaceful to bring them up.  They’d have to wait. 

“’m sorry,” he suddenly spoke from where he lay on your chest.  Your fingers stop their mindless fiddling in his hair and he grips onto you tighter. 

“What for?” 

“Not being here.” 

You felt your heart crack at the tone of his voice.  He’s always been more open and mushy around you- as much as he denies it and he only get’s more open and more mushy when he was sleep deprived and just plain exhausted.  

“I’m always working, always gone, always away doing fuck-knows-what out there and not here.  I’m not home and that’s gotta really fucking suck.”  He’s silent for a moment but you dare not speak. You feel like he’s been holding a lot in recently and if he’s choosing now to let it all out, you would silently encourage him to do that.  

“I mean-” he scoffs at himself, “we’re married for fucks sake.  We have a baby and I’m basically leaving you home alone day after day to raise her by yourself.” 

“What?” Your shocked to think that’s how he feels.  “Katsuki, that’s not-”

“It feels true,” he whimpers. “I feel like if I keep doing this, keep leaving you and Misuzu alone,” his voice cracks at the sound of his daughter’s name leaving his lips, “then you’ll both just disappear and I won’t even have the balls to go after you two.” You think you feel something wet seep through your sleep shirt, but you don’t say a thing about it.  “I don’t feel like a husband and I don’t feel like a father. How can I feel like a hero if I can’t even spare the time to be with my god damn family?” 

“Well,” you start.  In truth, all you want to do is console him, but for all you know that could make him feel worse. You had to figure out what he wanted first. “What do you want to do then?” 

He took a deep breath before he let it out again. 

“I think I’m going to take some time off,” he concluded.  It had been on his mind recently and now was as good a time as any.  He just wanted to be home. “Maybe a week or two.” 

“If that’s what you really want to do, then I think that’s a great idea. Just don’t forget to tell Eijirou or else he’ll blow a fuse if he just think’s your late because the great Dynamight is always punctual.” 

You got a hearty puff of air and smile out of him for that little line.  it was no shock that when all came down to it, Kirishima Eijirou and Bakugou Katsuki ended up working in the same agency. 

“I’ll just text the bastard.” 

“You need to tell the agency too, you dolt,” you lightly whacked him on the bed as he groaned.  Getting time off wasn’t going to be hard for him considering the god awful hours he’s been forced into the past however long.  Just going into the office to get that time off is annoying and a process he wish he could get someone else do to for him. “Just head out in the morning and let both your partner and your agency know. It won’t be so bad.” 

“Whatever,” he huffed.  “Just, go back to sleep.” 

You glanced back at the clock to see that only about half and hour had passed.  You sighed as you closed your eyes happily ready to return to sleep before Misuzu woke up. 

You swore Katsuki was out before you. 

-x-x-x-

You woke up three hours later, just after 7 am to the sounds of your daughter’s crying from her nursey. When you opened your eyes and sat up, your husband was no where to be seen.  

You frowned, knowing that he was awake somewhere and he had only slept a few hours. Shaking your head, you got up and went to Misuzu’s room to get her from her crib and bring her into your arms.  

You shushed the infant in your arms as you left the nursey and walked around the house.  Katsuki was no where to be found and his everyday shoes were gone from the shoe rack next to the door.  He must’ve went out already. 

Not thinking much of it, you moved to the kitchen to grab one of Mizusu’s bottles from the fridge.  One plus of pumping was getting bottles for the future- but that was one of the only pros among a number of cons.  

With Misuzu being still so young, she didn’t do much beside nursing, napping and diaper calls.  She would coo and whine and clutch onto your fingers and clothes and hair, but her energy was never prolonged.  

After nursing, burping and playing with her she was yawning again. You left to place her back in her crib in her room as you let he sleep a little while longer. Flipping on the baby monitor, you left the room and went to the kitchen.  Your daughter had breakfast, it was only fair that you got something to eat too. 

As you scrambled the last eggs in your fridge, enough for Katsuki just in case you saw him this morning, you heard the front door open and shut again.  You smiled as you heard footsteps come treading into the kitchen and you looked over your shoulder to see your husband.  

You smiled at him as he rubbed the back of his head. Dressed in jeans that tore just slightly in the thighs and a t-shirt, Wwhen he saw you, he immediately started going towards you. 

“Good morning,” you told him as he was at your side looking over your shoulder. “Welcome home.” 

“Mmn,” he hummed at you. 

“Where’d you go so early in the morning?” 

“Agency.” 

“You should’ve slept in a little bit more.  You didn’t sleep long.”  

“I didn’t want to wait any more to just be able to stay home.” 

You smiled at his answer.  You brought one hand up to pat his cheek as he leaned into your touch.  

“Why don’t you go get comfortable if you’re staying home then?” 

He hummed at you again, nodding before he kissed your shoulder and sauntered back into your shared room. He took his time getting changed and getting into more homey clothes, because when he came back into the kitchen you were placing your food on plates for the both of you. 

This time, when he came to you, instead of standing beside you, he latched onto you from behind as he buried his face into your neck.  You could tell from the feeling of his eyelashes tickling your skin that he was still tired. You had half a mind to tell him to just go back to bed and he could really wake up and eat later. 

The way he tightened his grip on your waist and started to sway ever so gently back and forth in the kitchen made you stay silent though.  It was a serene moment between you two and you just closed your eyes and basked in it.  It had been so long since you just got to bask in him and him in you. 

“You hungry?” You asked as softly as you could muster. He nodded but made no effort to try and move away from you.  “Do you expect to eat with your face hidden?” You teased. 

“Just a little longer,” he muffled, his breath making your skin rise with gooseflesh as it tickled.  

Half and hour later, you were taking his plate from him as he cleaned it of food and went to put them in the sink.  He jumped from his chair at the table before he was gently moving you away from the metal hole in the counter where you were about to wash the dishes you had dirtied this morning. 

“I’ll wash them,” he insisted. 

“I don’t mind doing it.” 

“Don’t be so damned stubborn.  You cooked, so it’s fair.” 

You shrugged as you relented. “If you really insist. Thank you, Katsuki.” You placed a small, short kiss on his cheek before you moved back to the table to sit.  

As he cleaned up the dishes, you sat at the table and fiddled with your phone, scrolling through apps to see what you missed and then flicking occasionally to watch Katsuki’s back.  

“I feel you fuckin’ staring,” he spoke as he shut the water off, shaking his hands before he dried them on a towel.  The dishes all sat in a plastic draining rack as he turned around and leaned against the counter.  You placed your chin in your palm as you laughed at him. 

“Yeah? Got a problem with it?” 

“Not necessarily.” 

You both jumped when a small whine was heard over the speaker of the baby monitor you had sitting on the center of the table.  You pushed your chair out, but before you could even stand up, Katsuki was up and down the hall to check on Misuzu. 

When you made it to her door, he had already lifted her out of her crib.  She had reached up and snagged a tiny handful of her father’s hair as he hissed. 

“Listen you little brat, just because your my baby doesn’t mean you can yank on my hair.” Her small fist only yanked down on his hair more as if to say ‘I can and will’.  You chuckled as you walked into the nursey and started to detangle her hand from his blond hair.  

Katsuki watched as her fingers released his hair and instead wrapped around your finger as you bounced it slightly. Her tiny arm moved in tandem with your finger bounces. 

“Hey,” your soft voice calling him suddenly brought him out of his own mind. You gently pulled Misuzu’s fingers off you as you pushed your palm against Katsuki’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” 

Was he? God, he hated crying- especially in front of you.  He clicked his tongue, whipping his head to face away from you as he used one of his hands to quickly swipe under his eyes. 

“I’m not.” 

You smiled at him, holding back a laugh as you pushed your husband into the living room to let Misuzu play on the floor.  Katsuki sat on the living room floor cross legged as you watched him play with her as she lay on her back.  

Occasionally he would glance at the time and remind you to pump, as if your tender chest wasn’t a constant reminder anyway.  You always just nodded and told him you would when you needed to. 

The three of you spent the morning in the living room until the infant began to yawn back to back and rub at her eyes clumsily.  You let Katsuki put her down for her nap in the afternoon since he never really had the opportunity to.  Through the baby monitor you could hear him mutter and coo at her to go to sleep. 

When she was down, Katsuki came back into the living room and sat himself beside you on the couch.  He sighed, throwing his head back against the couch and closing his eyes, obviously ready for a nap himself.  

“Why not try and sleep while she’s down?” You had planned on getting him to rest while you start to go through the duffle bag you had relocated to the corner of the room a while ago to see what all he needed done with his hero equipment.  

He opened one of his eyes, seeing you eyeing towards his bag and he frowned.  He shifted his body, snatched your waist and threw himself back to lay on the cushions, you following in tow to lay on top of him. 

“Katsuki!” You scolded in a hushed tone as to not wake up your daughter who just went to sleep.  

“I’ll nap here and you will too. No objections.” He brought one of his hands up to start stroking your head. “Just let me take care of my god damn wife for once.” You just shook your head and pushed your cheek further against his chest to get comfortable.  When he says it like that, you can’t really bring yourself to oppose him.  

“Hey,” you whispered. You felt him hum in response to you. “I love you.” 

His legs shifted and his arms wrapped around you tighter, getting more comfortable. He let out a deep, comfortable breath as you felt him push his cheek into the top of your head. 

“‘Fuckin’ love you too.”