#fuck me for using a bulletin list

[nonameidentified]

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

Okay, so, um... I had an entire yuri database in my drafts, okay. It had all the things I've read, things I am currently reading, recommendations from friends, all that jazzy stuff right. It was a good system of yuri organisation for me, okay. Now, the problem is I kinda mis-clicked, and it is now in queue. So, I can't use the queue for a couple of days and, I. now. have. to. retype. each. and. every. title. into. a. new. draft.

Was it careless of me to keep this in drafts? Yes.

Am I still going to be annoyed by it? Also yes.

[devourable]

✎ the prodigy

sfw | tags : male!yandere student x gn! reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), obsessive behavior and thoughts, bullying, slight classism, gaslighting? i think

surprise! i came up w the idea of this guy like,,, two days ago and had to get him out my system 😭 i feel like all my yandere ocs are too nice (save for althea) so heres one thats an asshole. enjoy! reblog to support me :]

sterling cygnus has it all.

good looks, a wealthy family, and a place in one of the most prestigious private colleges that one could go to. aptly dubbed the ‘prince of ice’ by his classmates thanks to his cold demeanor and disdain for interpersonal connections, the young man had one goal in his mind since he started attending school.

to be the best!

sterling dedicated himself to his studies. nothing was more important to him than ensuring he got the top scores on every exam he took, sealing his place as number one in the academic field by any means necessary. no one dared to breach that. and anyone who even tried received his ire.

no one was going to stand up to him — why would they? they’d hate to end up like the poor guy who’s dorm was raided after he surpassed him. or the girl who did the same, resulting in her being forced to drop out after her father’s suspiciously sudden arrest left her unable to pay tuition fees. but of course, there was no real proof that sterling had caused both incidents. it was just a coincidence! right?

well… the day you came onto his radar was a day that left the entire student body tense.

everyone had gathered around the bulletin board where the latest exam results were posted. there were gasps of shock, murmurs, and even a small ripple of laughs floating through the otherwise quiet crowd. it was unusual. and when sterling had pushed his way to the front to gaze upon the list of student names with their scores beside them… he understood. and in an instant, he was furious.

he was in second place. and above his name, with a pretty 100% score next to it, was yours.

who the fuck did you think you were? coming to his school, earning the grade that he worked so hard to receive, and daring to take his place as number one?

sterling knew in an instant that you had to be a new student. he had all of the names of those who ranked just under him memorized, and yours wasn’t one of them. were you a transfer? a latecomer? he had no clue what the circumstances behind your sudden arrival was, and honestly? he didn’t care. you had taken his place, after he had worked so hard to get there. after he had been there for so long. you had taken his place. and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve it.

but just as he resolved to figure you out so he could plan his revenge?

there you were. passing through the the slowly dispersing crowd to look at the leaderboard, your eyes locking with the name — your name — at the very top of it.

when sterling first saw you, he couldn’t even begin to understand the feeling that had suddenly flooded his senses. it was so strange… and why did the world suddenly feel a lot slower? why could he only notice you and him in the hallway? why did his heart skip in his chest when you glanced at him and your eyes locked?

if you had tried to say something to him, sterling didn’t even notice. he had hurried off before you could even speak.

he was sure he despised you after that point. he had to have, he told himself. the way his mind always drifted back to you when he was trying to study, angrily clicking his pen and gritting his teeth as he thought about your stupid hair and your dumb, adorable eyes, the way your uniform looked better on you than anyone else in the college — he didn’t even realize he was thinking about you so much until he snapped out of them and noticed how much time had passed.

he hated you. he had to. you had taken what was rightfully his, probably with dumb luck or cheating, and now you were invading his thoughts in such a way? was there nothing you wouldn’t take from him?

he was colder to you than anyone else. he had to be — you needed to learn your place around him. he’d ignore you in the halls and during class, and when you’d innocently ask him for his input on something, you’d be met with a sneer and a condescending retort.

“i don’t fraternize with people like you. don’t bother me.”

despite this, he’d always wander around near wherever you went. going to the library at the same time as you so he could snatch whatever book you had planned to check out away from you and take it for himself, making sure to go to the cafeteria just before you arrived so he could take what he knew was your favorite snacks, and he’d always be at the dorms before you — trying so hard to not stare at you when you passed by in your pajamas, fresh out of the showers.

your stupid body wash smelled so good… he couldn’t help himself when he snuck back to the locker room after hours to snag it for himself.

weeks after your arrival and sudden climb to the top, everyone was confused to see you were still attending the school. sterling would’ve taken out anyone else by then, what was so different about you?

but no one would ask, obviously. nor would anyone come to your aid when all of your pencils and pens were all mysteriously snapped in half one day. or when you’d find your notes torn into pieces and haphazardly stuffed back into your bag. and when you tried to alert staff about your dorm room’s door being ajar for some reason, they brushed you off even though you knew for a fact someone had gone through your things (‘nothing important’s gone? no bother pursuing the matter, then’).

with how much disdain and contempt he seemed to hold for you, it was so strange that sterling didn’t like the idea of no longer catching daily glimpses of you. or having access to your things.

so even though sterling went out of his way to make your school life nearly unbearable as revenge for coming along and doing just that to him first, he didn’t make the move to actually have you removed from the school and opted to torment you instead.

you deserved it, he told himself. far more than anyone who came before you.

he’d show you what happens when you bother sterling cygnus.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part one: "The Night You Met"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader [Series Masterlist]

Summary: You have a bad Monday back at work and grab a few drinks at a nearby bar with a co-worker who takes the opportunity to have a certain attractive lawyer buy you a drink.

Or

How you meet Matthew Murdock and then repeatedly embarrass yourself.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: So I'm finally sharing a few of these installments on tumblr, but I've been posting them on AO3 since the beginning of the year. Currently there are 74 parts posted on AO3 (almost 300k words total) and still counting. I update this series a few times a week and I figured I'd finally share a few installments here and maybe, eventually, post them all on tumblr? Please heed the warnings--there is a ton of sex later in this series (y'all who've read it know what I'm talking about) and some hurt/no comfort for a bit later during what I deemed Big Angst. If you haven't heard of this series, I certainly hope you enjoy it!

Tapping your fingers lightly against the cold bottle in your hands, your eyes fixed on your beer, you blew out a rough breath. Classic rock was playing in the dimly lit dive bar, a random one you and Katy had last minute ducked inside after work. Neither of you had been here before but after the rough Monday back at work, both of you were dying for a drink and it didn't really matter where.

"I feel like I'm chasing a goddamned dead-end," you complained, glaring at the half-finished beer. 

"Maybe you need a new angle?" Katy suggested. 

She threw back the rest of her beer from her place beside you before raising a hand, flagging down the surly bartender. The older woman behind the bar headed back towards you both and Katy ordered another drink. 

You were lost in thought for a moment, focusing on the story Ellison had been telling you to drop for over a week now. Running a hand through your hair exasperatedly, you picked up your beer in your other hand and took a long pull from the bottle. Your head was buzzing from more than just the alcohol in your system as you swallowed the drink down. 

"Didn't Ellison give you a new piece today?" Katy asked, her attention returning to you when the new beer was set in front of her.

"Yeah," you answered her with an eye roll. "Fluff piece on the local animal shelter. Which, don't get me wrong," you said, raising a hand, "I love dogs and all, but I'm not really in this to write about dogs. I didn't bust my ass to get onto The Bulletin to write fluff." You sighed, eyeing Katy beside you. "What's he got you working on now?"

"That warehouse murder last night," she answered.

"Fuck," you grumbled, slamming your head to the bar counter. Immediately you regretted the action, raising your head and pulling a face as you rubbed at the sticky dampness the bar counter had left behind. "Ugh," you grunted. "I'm on his shit list this month, aren't I?"

"Yup," Katy answered bluntly. "You know he doesn't like any of us chasing dangerous stories about mobsters after…everything that happened a little while back."

You groaned in frustration before picking up your beer and finishing the last dregs of it. Katy nudged you abruptly in the arm, just about causing you to spill the beer. You swallowed, turning to shoot her a pointed look. 

"Isn't that Karen Page?" she whispered, gesturing her head towards the blonde at the pool table. "The one everyone whispered about saying Ellison supposedly fired her because she might know Daredevil's identity?"

Your eyes turned to the pool table, examining the blonde who was laughing with two other gentlemen. "Yeah, looks like her," you answered. 

"Now she had some good shit she wrote," Katy said with a grin. "You know, before Ellison started doling out pieces on animal shelters."

Your eyes returned to your empty beer, but Katy continued to stare at the pool table, fingers drumming on the bar.

"Maybe we should stop talking about work," you said. "The point of grabbing a drink was to forget about this shitty Monday. I'm currently not forgetting."

"Mmm, I wouldn't mind forgetting about my Monday by getting underneath him," Katy replied, her eyes still on the pool table as she gestured her beer towards someone.

You glanced back over, your eyes landing on the man drinking back a beer with Karen Page. It was obvious Katy was drooling over the dark haired gentleman with the red glasses and cane. His jawline was perfect, his hair practically begging to have fingers run through it, his body clearly well-built under that tight dress shirt with buttons tempted to pop when he moved just right, and he had an absolutely breathtaking smile.

"Isn't that Murdock from Nelson, Murdock, and Page?" Katy said after a moment, her eyes narrowing. "They're the guys who took down Fisk. Shit, he's hotter in person." When you didn't respond, Katy glanced back at you, eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. "Is your silence you disagreeing about that man’s perfection?"

You shook your head, your eyes landing back on the man. It almost seemed like he was looking at you and Katy at the bar, but considering he was blind, that would have been impossible.

"He's attractive, yeah," you agreed with a shrug. 

Katy's eyes widened at you. "Really? That's it? That guy looks like sex on legs and I'm pretty sure I've heard rumors that he is amazing in bed and…that’s all you’ve got?"

"Your point?" you asked.

"Are you serious right now?" she asked in disbelief. "You wouldn't want a night with that guy?"

You let out a heavy breath, your eyes returning to the now empty bottle of beer as you debated on another or just going home and making dinner and writing that pointless article for Ellison.

"I wouldn’t know what to even say to a guy like that," you muttered. "You know outside of interviews I am shit with human interaction."

Katy chuckled lightly before shaking her head. "You do have a knack for being awkward. But you wouldn't need to say anything, just let him fuck you senseless as you're screaming his name on your back." 

Katy abruptly threw out some light, breathy fake moans that had you slapping her arm sharply and your face burning up. 

"Pretty sure you could handle that ," she teased you with a light laugh. 

"You're a fucking animal," you joked, burying your reddening face in your hands.

"You're thinking about it though," she shot back. 

You glanced at the man between your fingers, face still buried in your hands. He was holding a beer in one hand as something that looked like a smirk broke across his face. He was standing by the pool table, his gaze in your direction as his friends focused on the game they were playing. Your heart sped up at the thought of him throwing you onto your bed and you swore you saw his lips pull up even higher before you turned away. 

"Would literally never happen," you mumbled. "Guys who look like that don't talk to chicks like me." 

"Sexy and awkward?" Katy supplied. 

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Only one of those is an accurate description," you replied. "Anyway, I should probably get back. Make dinner and slam my head into the wall repeatedly as I write that piece for the next issue."

"Or you could stay and see if you're awkward enough to scare away Hell’s Kitchen’s sexiest lawyer," Katy suggested with a playful grin. "Maybe end up finding God on your back."

She opened her mouth and got out one moan before you kicked her shin. 

She laughed, waving a hand at you. "Alright, fine. Let me chug this and I'll leave, too. I've got a lead I need to check out tonight anyway."

You watched her raise the beer to her lips and toss it back, downing the last half of the bottle before slamming it to the counter. You slid off the bar stool and turned to leave only to run head first into someone. You stumbled backwards muttering out an 'oh shit' as your back hit the bar counter, and then your eyes went wide when you saw it was the attractive lawyer you and Katy had just been talking about.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't see you there," you blurted out an apology. 

"Neither did I," he answered, a grin spreading across his mouth. 

"Right, because you're…" you trailed off quickly realizing how rude it would be to point out his disability. 

Katy appeared just beside him, her eyes going wide as she gawked at you, shaking her head sharply. 

"Blind?" the man finished for you. 

Your cheeks burned as you awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He was somehow even more attractive up close and he had a nice, deep voice. For a moment you couldn't help but imagine him on top of you in your bed again and your heart stuttered in your chest.

"And I'm tactless," you breathed out. "Sorry, I didn't mean to literally run into you and then be completely rude. I'm just going to go," you said quickly, trying to skirt around him.

"Or you could buy her a drink," Katy blurted.

Your eyes widened as you stared open-mouthed at her, entirely taken aback. Katy shot you a look, shrugging a shoulder. The man chuckled, the sound drawing your attention back to him beside you. He was grinning in your direction and you internally groaned.

"You want me to buy your friend a drink?" he asked curiously.

Your eyes narrowed to a glare at Katy as you quickly answered him. "She's kidding," you told him. "You know, just a bad joke ," you said, the last two words coming out at Katy between gritted teeth. 

"Well," the man mused, "I may not be opposed to the idea."

Your palms immediately began to sweat as Katy sent you a wicked grin. Your heart was thundering wildly in your chest as you chanced a glance back at him. He looked entirely calm and collected as he stood there with a charming smile on his face.

“That’s uh, that’s nice and all, but I actually have work to finish tonight–”

“No you don’t,” Katy cut in sharply, eyes narrowed. “You could write that article in thirty minutes with your hands tied behind your back using only your tongue. You don’t have work.”

The man whose first name you were still unaware of chuckled good-naturedly beside you at Katy’s words. “I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, but that sounds like quite the talent you have,” he teased.

Katy snickered loudly as you audibly groaned, shrinking back into yourself. This was easily the most humiliated you had felt in a long time. 

She turned towards the man next and pointedly told him, “She had a bad day, she’d love another drink.” And then her attention returned to you, a sly grin on her face as she said, “Now I actually have a lead to follow up with. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She proceeded to mouth ‘you’re welcome’ before she turned and left.

You were torn between trying to chase after her and feeling obligated to converse with this insanely attractive man who was for some reason giving you the time of day. You were tightly gripping the strap of your crossbody bag with indecision as you stood there uncomfortably. Thankfully he spoke and broke the awkward tension.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked, gesturing towards the bar beside you both. “You could maybe tell me your name?” he suggested. “And why you’re having such a bad Monday?”

“Look,” you began, “you really don’t have to. She was just being a pain in my ass thinking that she was–” You stopped short. You couldn’t exactly finish that thought and tell him she was trying to help you talk to him because you obviously thought he was attractive and you would never approach him on your own. That would have been even more embarrassing. “I just–you’re clearly here with your friends and I don’t want to pull you away,” you quickly shot out instead.

His dark brows rose up behind his glasses, a slight amused grin forming on his lips. “Oh? You were paying attention to who I was with before you even ran into me?”

Wincing, you wished a bus would just barrel through the bar and hit you, putting you out of your misery and ending this embarrassing conversation. How the fuck were you even supposed to deny that?

So you decided to do what you always did when things got too uncomfortable–run.

“You know what, I really do need to go,” you said, quickly turning and stepping away.

“Wait,” he called out.

And you did. For some unknown reason you actually paused, back still towards him. You could see his two friends at the pool table still enraptured in their game, currently either unaware or uninterested in the fact that he wasn’t back with them.

“Okay, I really am blind, so you’re going to have to actually, you know, acknowledge that you’re still here so I know I’m not just talking to myself right now,” he said.

You cleared your throat nervously, your eyes dropping to your scuffed up dress flats. “Wouldn’t exactly be too out of place in a bar, at least,” you muttered.

He laughed lightly, the sound causing you to glance back at him over your shoulder. He was smiling and the sight nearly gutted you. You wished he’d take off the glasses so you could see the entirety of his face–his eyes were probably as beautiful as the rest of him.

He slid onto the bar stool beside the one you’d just been on, folding up his cane as he patted the seat beside him. “Please, sit. Let me get you a drink,” he offered again.

The words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Why, are you just that curious how far I can shove my foot into my mouth?”

Your mouth immediately clamped shut, one of your hands flying up to cover it as your eyes grew wide in horror at how your sarcastic comment actually came across. His eyebrows once again flew all the way up to his forehead, his lip twitching up at the corner in amusement. 

“Another one of your curious talents?” he asked with a slight laugh.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, taking a step back. “This is the most embarrassed I’ve probably felt in years,” you blurted. “Which is saying something because I have a tendency to make things incredibly awkward and uncomfortable and I should just really go home now.”

He was fighting the grin on his face as he shook his head. “No, please, don’t be embarrassed. This conversation has honestly been the highlight of my day.”

“I’m glad my mortification brings you joy,” you said flatly, taking another step back, “but I’m pretty sure I’m teetering on the edge of being the first person to actually die of embarrassment. So I should probably really go now.”

“I’m Matthew,” he said, extending his hand out towards you. “Usually I just go by Matt.”

Your eyes dropped down to his extended hand, staring in silent confusion at it. Why the fuck was he offering his hand and introducing himself to you?

He cleared his throat, hand still outstretched. “I know you said you’re a bit awkward and all, so I’ll let you know this is usually the part where you shake my hand and introduce yourself, too.”

“I–” you began, hesitating as you continued eyeing his outstretched hand. “I just told you like five times that I should go…”

“I know, I’m blind, not deaf,” Matt said, grin still intact, causing you to flush further. “But yet you’re still standing here instead of actually leaving. So,” he continued, extending his hand out further towards you, “my name is Matt, and you are?”

“Dying of embarrassment,” you muttered, unable to resist the slight smile on your mouth when he chuckled again. 

And then you caved and against your better judgment you shook his hand, offering him your name as you sat on the bar stool beside him. 

“That’s a pretty name,” he told you.

“And that sounds like a line,” you quipped back.

He raised a single brow at you this time, the corner of his mouth quirking up. You watched as the bartender made her way over towards the pair of you, the surly expression on her face morphing into a large smile when she saw Matt.

“What can I get you, Murdock?” she asked.

Matt turned towards the woman, a charming smile on his face as he said, “Just another beer, Josie, and whatever this lovely lady is having.” His head tilted towards you and Josie’s eyes followed curiously.

“Uh, just a beer, thanks,” you muttered awkwardly.

She nodded, lightly tapping a hand to the counter before sauntering off to grab two beers. You took a moment to take a deep breath, not entirely sure what to make of the evening so far. Normally you’d have scared someone off by now, making them entirely too uncomfortable to try to endure conversation. But not Matt. He was still sitting beside you, clearly relaxed and comfortable.

“So why’re you having a bad day?” he asked.

You glanced over at him. He was studying you, head tilted to the side and one arm resting along the bar counter, the cane folded up on the surface beside him. With the way he was turned towards you in the bar stool, and you towards him, your knees were almost brushing.

“Just a bad day at work,” you mumbled. 

“Where do you work?” he asked curiously.

“The Bulletin,” you told him.

He appeared to perk up instantly, sitting up straighter in his chair as his head shifted further to the side. “You’re a journalist?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered. “Or at least, I try to be when my boss isn’t throwing fluff pieces at me instead of letting me chase real stories.”

You briefly noticed the thinning of his lips at your words before Josie’s return with two beers caught your attention. You thanked her with a smile, surprised when she returned one, and watched as she disappeared. You took a deep drink from the beer, definitely feeling like you needed it to survive in Matt’s presence. When you set the beer back on the bar, your right hand absently playing with the condensation on the bottle, you turned your attention back to Matt and noticed the slight frown on his mouth.

“So you’re…chasing a dangerous story and your boss doesn’t want you to?” he asked curiously.

“Yeah,” you answered simply.

“Maybe you should listen to him,” Matt suggested.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “And what, write about the upcoming adoption event at the animal shelter forever?” You shook your head. “No, that’s not what I signed up for with this career. Your friend over there is Karen Page, right? She was the same way when she worked at The Bulletin, too.”

“Yeah, and you see how she no longer chases after the dangerous stories for a newspaper anymore, right?” he replied, his tone more serious than it had been.

“I’m sorry but, I just met you literally minutes ago and now you’re trying to dictate what I should be doing?” you asked skeptically.

Matt abruptly shook his head, his charming smile returning. “You know what? You’re right. I just remember Karen having some terrible situations arise because she was chasing a story. I shouldn’t project that onto you. I apologize.”

You continued to study him curiously as you raised your beer to your lips, taking a drink. You swallowed, voicing your thought aloud as you asked, “Why’d you want to have a drink with me so badly?”

“I liked the sound of your voice,” he answered easily. “You sounded nice and I thought I’d like to continue hearing you talk for a bit more tonight.”

You snorted loudly, shaking your head. “Okay, now that is a terrible line,” you said.

“Says the woman who wanted to show me how far she could shove her foot into her mouth before she even knew my name,” he countered.

You blushed furiously, shaking your head with a grin. “No, I said you wanted to see that, not that I wanted to show you,” you shot back.

“Well,” Matt said with a shrug of his shoulders as he brought his beer to his lips, “I’m blind anyway so I couldn’t actually see it one way or another.”

“How many blind jokes are you going to make tonight?” you asked him.

He grinned smoothly back at you, swallowing down his beer. “As many as you continue to easily drop into my lap,” he answered.

You laughed, your eyes darting to the beer beside you. Matt’s knee nudged yours and you glanced back at him.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked softly.

You shrugged a shoulder, eyeing the beer again. “I can’t decide if I’m regretting staying for this drink or not yet."

"Oh, ouch," he said, feigning hurt. 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "I mean I’m still debating whether or not you laughing at my intense embarrassment has been worth it or not yet for the current conversation."

"Uh huh," he replied. "So where are you landing with that? On a scale of one to ten?"

You pulled a face, head tilting to the side. "How would I even rate that on a scale?" you asked him curiously. 

"Well, one would be 'Oh shit I'll just stop talking and slip away since he can't see me’–'"

"Jeez, has that happened to you before?" you asked, cutting him off.

He shook his head, bringing his beer to his lips again as he answered. "No, but I get the feeling you might."

Your face reddened further as you watched him take a drink, eyes lingering on the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "No," you corrected, "I'd at least blurt out something weird and then sprint out of the room. You'd at least have some warning."

"Oh, well I appreciate that at least," he teased. "But really, scale of one to ten how much are you regretting staying for the drink?" 

You eyed him, bringing the bottle to your lips and thinking over your answer for a moment as you studied him and took a drink. He was charming, that was obvious, and he didn't seem even remotely put off or like he was struggling with conversation no matter how awkward you'd been so far. In fact, you'd go so far as to say that you were surprisingly having fun.

"Okay I'm pretty sure you just told me you'd at least blurt something awkward before you disappeared on me," Matt joked.

You grinned, unable to help it. "A seven," you answered. 

His eyebrows shot up onto his forehead again, an amused smile still on his lips. "A seven isn't bad but I was hoping for higher," he mused. "Why so low?"

"You could do with some better jokes and your lines are terrible," you told him.

"Duly noted," he answered quickly. 

"So what about you?" you asked somewhat nervously. "On a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret asking me to stay for this drink?"

You anxiously took a sip of your beer while he cocked his head to the side as if he was in thought for a moment. 

"An eight," he answered. "But only because I'm still waiting to find out how far you can shove your foot in your mouth."

You choked on the beer you were drinking, coughing lightly as Matt laughed and asked if you were alright. It was a moment before you recovered but his next question had you reeling again.

"You want to stay longer than that one drink? Meet my friends?" he asked when you'd recovered. 

Your cheeks flushed as you bit your lip, taking only a few seconds to think over your answer. "Yeah, sure," you said. "I've got time."

"Considering your friend said you could write your article in a half hour with your hands tied behind your back using only your tongue," he mused, "I imagine you do. You need any help with the restraints for that, by the way?"

You threw your face in your hands, groaning loudly as Matt let out another bark of laughter beside you. "I cannot believe you just said that," you mumbled.

"Really?" he asked curiously. "In the probably fifteen minutes you've been conversing with me you really can't believe I would say that?"

You began to laugh behind your own hands, turning your face to peek at him through your fingers. He was smiling wide, perfect teeth exposed, as he gazed in your direction. 

"Okay, yeah, maybe I can," you answered. 

"But you seem a little more relaxed now," he pointed out. 

He was right, too. Somehow after all the awkward tension and comments you'd found him funny and a little disarming. And he still hadn't run off, instead he seemed like he was also enjoying your company and he clearly didn't want you to leave yet. Which you certainly hadn't expected.

"Yes, maybe marginally less embarrassed," you agreed.

"Good," he responded. He slid off the bar stool, knees briefly grazing yours before he grabbed his cane and began to unfold it. "So, would you like to meet my friends? Stay a bit longer?"

You smiled, shrugging a shoulder. "Sure, let's give my anxiety a bigger audience," you joked, sliding off of your bar stool. 

"I have a feeling they're going to like you, too," he assured you.

You smiled nervously, feeling your palms sweating a bit again and trying to discreetly wipe them against your dress pants as he led you towards the pool table. He'd just said he liked you and you felt yourself becoming a bundle of nerves all over again.

But he couldn't possibly have meant it like that , right?

[whiskeyapologist]

was looking through my camera roll & realized i never posted about this?? but i did a check please theme in my bullet journal back in april & i am still beyond obsessed with how it turned out!

task list & cover page

april was all about finishing my fucking thesis (i earned my mfa in stage automation in may) & i used the task list to break down each section of my thesis & make it less intimidating. i still pulled a bitty & had to marathon write most of my thesis within a like 36 hour period. i slept so good once that draft was finished!

when i started planning this theme, i flipped through the comic & decided pretty quickly i wanted the cover to be this view of faber from 4.25 "faber". i filled the outside with some of my favorite details from throughout the comic, including (clockwise from top left) the "text from chowder: i'm shouting!" from 4.2 "nonstop celly", jack's "oh" moment from 2.17 "graduation", the jack lego (?) figure from 3.1 "wag", dex & nursey's background roach & house bubbles & (i think it's) ransom's "et tu lardo?" bubble from 2.12 "post i: roadie", one of my fave senor bun appearances that didn't make it into a weekly from 1.16 "linemates", & bitty's phone (i don't think there's a specific appearance of bitty's phone that looks like this, at least not that i'm finding in the flip-throughs i've done to write this post. i think i did a lil freehand moment with it, but if anyone happens to find it in the comic, let me know!), as well as my usual little calendar & monthly focuses section

monthly calendar & habit tracker

the monthly calendar & playlist is inspired by the smh team roster hanging on the bulletin board in the haus at the beginning of year 2

the habit tracker features a few other details from 2.1 “moved in”, namely the “haus sweet haus” rug & the sock pinned to the bulletin board. the shopping list bubble is a callback to the “jizz!” speech bubble also pinned to the bulletin board next to the sock

meal & time trackers

the breakfast, lunch, & dinner headers are a callback to the hockey puck taped to the bulletin board

not much to add here, but it’s a great time to mention the “it’s tough but you’re tougher” speech bubble from 4.20 “spotlight on eric bittle” which was the quote i used to decorate my grad cap ❤️

weekly #1 is modeled after y1 & features my favorite y1 senor bun appearance (1.18 “playoffs - i”) & line (1.8 “checking clinic”)

weekly #2 is modeled after y2 & features my favorite y2 senor bun (2.10 "shinny") & line (2.4 "hazeapalooza")

weekly #3 is modeled after y3 & features my favorite y3 senor bun (3.3 "meet the falconers") & line (3.26 "cup v - post")

weekly #4 is modeled after y4 (the layout of the top panel specifically is modeled after the first panel of 4.16 "christmas in madison - iii" which shows a bunch of the christmas pics/posts from the rest of smh & tater) & features my favorite y4 senor bun (4.17 "senior thesis") & line (also 4.17 "senior thesis"). i has some extra space, so i included some excerpts from bitty's y4 tweets

camp nanowrimo tracker, before the pen. the left is just a table for tracking time spent on & words written for my thesis & the novel i've been working on forever. my camp nanowrimo goal was to write 1 hour every weekend day & 2 hours every week day, for a grand total of 50 hours, which i am proud to say i achieved! the right is a visual tracker, where each pie was equal to an hour of writing. i included 50 pies for my 50 hour goal. the bubble near the top is from 1.4 "the haus" with 2 footnotes i added; one on "kitchens" that says "word docs", & one on "pies" that says "words". clearly i think i'm very clever lol

visual tracker, filled in. i surpassed my 50 hour goal with about a week left in the month, & i wanted to include that additional progress on my tracker. once the month was done & i knew how much i needed to add, i made a tip-in (although this might just be a fold-out lol) to tape in. on one side, i included the dialogue bubbles from a panel of 3.19 "keagster"

on the other side of the tip-in/flip-out, i included jam jars for the additional 10.25 hours of writing i did, plus "it's gonna be two trips" also from 3.19 "keagster"

& that's all the spreads! spreads were done in an archer & olive b5 notebook. supplies include: mildliners in the colors vermillion, dark blue, beige, & gray; a black papermate flair, a white gellyroll pen in size 08, and stabilo pens in gray and brown. oh, & a piece of masking tape, bc i couldn't find any clear tape lol

[ramblingoak]

The Sexy Cardigan

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 6 - Blushing

Copia x Aether

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Copia teaches history at the high school and Aether is a firefighter. ~

Warnings: Copia being awkward and cute, flirty texts idk, nsfw 18+ mdni, 600 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

Aether:  What are you wearing?

Copia’s brain whited out when he read the text and he quickly slapped his phone screen down onto his desk.  He winced when the sharp noise made a few of his students look up from their tests but after he gave them an awkward smile they went back to work.  Unholy hell, what was Aether doing?  His phone vibrated again and Copia took a deep breath before turning it back over.

Aether:  Is it sexy?

He couldn’t help but look down at himself, seeing his usual button up and cardigan.  His pants had felt a little tight this morning but he blamed that on Swiss continuing to show up with pies from his new boyfriend.  Copia nibbled on his bottom lip before slowly typing out his reply.

Copia:  Are cardigans sexy?

The response was immediate and Copia could feel his cheeks heating up violently.

Aether:  On you?  Hell yes.

He bit down on his lip to prevent a delirious laugh from escaping.  Oh this was not an appropriate conversation to have right now.  Copia looked up at the clock on the wall, disappointed to see that there was still an hour left before lunch.  Maybe playing along just a bit longer wouldn’t hurt?  He slouched down in his chair while he responded.

“Mr. Emeritus?”

“Shit!”  Copia fumbled with his phone, cursing again under his breath when it fell to the floor.  With a sigh he looked up to see one of his students standing on the other side of his desk.  “Sì?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

He nodded and waved the student away, managing an awkward thumbs up when they gave him a funny look.  Copia looked down at his phone before bending over to pick it up.  This was ridiculous, he was terrible at flirting in person so continuing this on the phone would just be even more embarrassing.  Determined to delete the text he had typed out he was horrified to see that while fumbling with his phone he had accidentally sent it.

Copia:  What about off?  

“Merda.”  Was there a way to delete sent texts?  Copia stayed frozen in place, trying to decide if it was worth googling.  An alert from Terzo popped up but he ignored it.  He did not have time for whatever the fuck Terzo was up to.  “Uh, class?”

Obediently all their heads popped up from their work.  Copia began to make mental notes of who had been on their phones but decided today would be a good day to let that go.  He started to ask if anyone knew an answer to his problem but his phone vibrated again and the message had his heart speeding up dangerously.

Aether:  Even better.     

“I have to go to the bathroom!”  He jumped up from his desk, banging his knees in the process.  His chair shot out from behind him, hitting the wall and making one of his bulletin boards fall to the floor.  Lucifer, what was wrong with him?  Limping, he made his way over to the door, flinging it open and turning back to his class with as stern a look as he could manage.  “No phones!”

He barely avoided breaking out into a run, rushing into the teacher’s lounge and then into the private bathroom inside.  The students would be ok on their own for a bit.  Probably.  Long enough for him to get the nerve to suggest to Aether they continue this conversation that night at his house.  In person and hopefully naked.

Terzo would be so proud of him. 

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More snippets from this verse are on my masterlist under "Ongoing Series"!

Other Mushy May days: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

[asphalt-cocktail]

Lead Us To Temptation- Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Talks of crime, robbery, crime for hire, talks of violence and guns, kidnapping, talks of past smut, less religion than the previous chapters but its still there. Bucky is a criminal in this so idk what to tell you if you are shocked by the crime. There isn't any gore and nothing is described in graphic detail. Don't worry reader is a badass this is a love story with a happy ending.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just want to pop in and say how grateful I am for all of the lovely comments, reblogs, tags, and likes I have been getting over the last few weeks! You guys are the ones who keep me writing. I am not doing a tag list, but you can feel free to turn my notifications to get one every time I post a new chapter <3

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Staying in Eden Ridge was probably the longest Bucky had managed to stay in a town and not do something to get run out or have another wanted poster with his face printed on it and slapped on every shop bulletin. 

It was making the boys antsy. They could only hold up so many stagecoaches carrying rich assholes on the outside of town before they got too bored. 

“When are we going to hit the bank Buck? We’ve been here so long the damn seasons have changed.” John’s voice had the uncanny ability of springing a sudden and painful migraine behind Bucky’s eyes anytime he spoke. 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. John pissed him off. “We need to wait a bit before we hit the bank. The ticket seller at the train station mentioned something about a train coming in to transport coal from the mines and take it back east. I guess the coal company is sending some bonds with it because the owner made a deal with Union Pacific.” 

“So what, they’re taking the bonds to the train yard?” 

“I’m glad to see you’re using the brain in that big fucking head of yours John.” To be completely transparent, Bucky harbored a strong dislike for John. 

Their association was almost solely due to John being Steve’s cousin, and Steve’s endorsement was something Bucky didn’t have the heart to dispute. Steve saved his life on more than one occasion. They’d gone through the Civil War together, they experienced the death of both of their parents together. You couldn’t get much closer to a man than that.  

The other reason being was John’s uncanny knack for survival. Despite the dangers of their lifestyle, John seemed to evade death, Bucky reckoned it was because God sure as hell didn’t want him and well, the Devil probably didn’t either so they just left him to do his business in the land of the living until they decided what to do with him.

Bucky was aware that his disdain for John might be uncalled for considering John’s role as the enforcer in their party. John was the one they sent out to take care of the more unsavory business transactions. However, these factors didn’t compensate for the fact that he was just plain weird and unpleasant to be around.

But Bucky was having such a lovely time playing house with you so, naturally he kept his plan to rob your father's train car transporting bonds to the Union Pacific rail yard. Management needed to cash them in and finalize the deal stating they were to use the Eden Coal & Iron as their main supply source. It was a deal that would make your father a very, very rich man. 

Robbing trains was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. An old, half balding, rich, man baby. Bucky could do it in his sleep. He didn’t feel bad about robbing your father. In fact he felt kind of good stealing from that rotten son of a bitch. 

Stealing these bonds would only be scraping the surface of the vast wealth your father accumulated by exploiting the hard working people of Eden Ridge. He was as crooked as crooked could be and there was no amount of praying or church going that would save his soul from the depths of hell once he died, god willing. 

If only you knew how your father treated the hard working miners who toiled in the depths of hell for him. He squeezed 15 grueling hours of labor from them 6 days a week, their backs bowed under the weight of his insatiable greed, all while their families languished in hunger. 

He wasn't the benevolent savior of Eden Ridge, rather, he resembled a vampire, voraciously draining the life force from the Earth and the good hearted denizens of the town you called home. Once he exhausted every able bodied man here, he’d slither away to prey upon the next unsuspecting community. 

Bucky’s plan was simple: wait a day or two several towns away to intercept the train and get to work. But he had to be careful If he got too reckless with his crimes, he’d have to leave. The question loomed in the back of his mind, when he had to leave would you come with? 

When he told you he was leaving to work a job you felt sick, “What do you mean leaving?” 

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, “I need to take the boys to deal with something for a few days. I promise I’ll be back by the end of the week. Two weeks tops.” He said hugging you tight, it pained him to see you worrying so much.

“But what if you don’t come back?” The question punched him in the chest and stole his breath. 

“Now don’t go talking like that.” He scolded you, “I’ll be back I promise.” You swallowed his words like a brick of lead. 

So for seven days you did the only thing you could do and waited. You sought comfort in Sam’s sister Sarah and her friend Natasha, spending most of your free time practicing needle work, reading, and chatting with the women. Sarah was a familiar and friendly face from the local church. Tragically widowed two winters prior, she was left with the responsibility of raising two boys on her own. To your knowledge, she had embraced her brother’s motley crew of friends, offering them sanctuary with open arms.

After your second meeting with Sarah she introduced you to Natasha, the local Madame. It took everything in your power to not turn your nose up at the idea of a woman engaging in sex for money. Your pious thoughts took a back seat when you remembered you were also engaging in sinful premarital acts with a man. 

Not sex though. No. 

Every time you thought today was the day Bucky shut it down. As much of a filthy bandit he was, he was still extremely respectful towards you. He always said he wanted to wait, the moment never felt right.

——

The moon hung low in the inky black sky as Bucky and his crew of bandits moved like vultures closing in on their prey. They moved silently, night as their accomplice- the thick fog veiling their actions, the rhythmic clatter of wheels masking the sounds of struggle. No witnesses meant no loose ends, and Bucky knew it well. 

It was quick. Efficient. 

Kill everyone on the train and then set it back on course so some poor sad sack could clean up the mess left behind. 

When Bucky’s eyes laid upon the bonds, your father’s exceptionally neat handwriting looping on the paper, he grinned like a snake. Peter could easily get a few hundred for the bonds. Having such a young boyish face always made him seem more trustworthy than the other members of the gang. 

To make up for leaving you worried half to death Bucky bought you a lovely hair pin. It was copper with a small decorative flower on the end of it. “If you think all it’s going to take is a pretty hair pin to forgive you, you’re wrong.” You lied through your teeth snatching it from his dirty hands and pinning it into your prayer veil, because of course Bucky returned just in time to take you to Sunday mass and have lunch with your family afterwards. 

Since midweek, your father had been in a downright rotten mood. He’d spent the last few days late at work and when you showed up to the office to bring him dinner he was yelling at his assistant every time without fail. 

“Tell them to double the guards! Put a damn Gatling on the top of the roof! Send the Pinkertons! I don’t care what you have to do, get that money to the train yard.” 

“But sir-“

“I said figure it out god damn it!” The way he slammed his hands on his desk made you jump. 

It wasn’t often your father lost his temper, but when he did it was frightening. 

At lunch your father glared daggers at Bucky while your mother preened over him. It was nice to see things hadn’t changed during his week away committing crime. 

“James, dear, you should work for the mining company!” Your mother kindly suggested, “My husband is always looking for strong young men such as yourself.” 

It took every fiber of his being to not scoff at the thought of selling his soul to the company, “I rather like the ranch work I’ve been doing for Miss Wilson, but thank you ma’am. If I have a change of heart you’ll be the first to know.” 

On the record Bucky was a ranch hand for Sam’s sister, sure he helped out here and there for the woman but he wasn't getting paid for it, your family didn’t need to know that. 

“We have some friends that are ranchers down in Texas, let us know if you ever venture down there and I’ll send a telegram to them for you.” Your mother was a bonafide socialite. She knew people of all walks of life and thrived on making connections for people, “Your horse is trained so well, they could use someone with your talent.” 

“Alpine?” Bucky grinned thinking of his beautiful white mare, she was almost as stubborn as you are, “I have to say she’s probably my second favorite girl.” 

Your father hated seeing Bucky around the house. He hated how Bucky was always a perfect gentleman whenever he came around. It didn’t matter, no daughter of his was going to marry some rough neck, dirty ranch hand if he had any say in it. 

There was something just plain not right with James Barnes and your father was going to get to the bottom of it. 

As it turns out, it took very little effort to find out the history of a career criminal. This was worse than if Bucky was actually a ranch hand, not only was he a criminal, but he robbed the damn train your father used to transport the bonds not once, but twice in the span of two weeks. 

He couldn’t believe he let a man who stole from him into the safety of their home. He couldn’t believe he let a criminal court his daughter (not that he even approved of the courtship). Bucky was probably sitting in his room at the inn laughing and counting the dollar bills that belonged to in his pocket. 

And the image of that pissed him off to no end. 

It pissed him off so much that he paid off a group of bounty hunters to finally deal rid him of the man once and for all. Bucky wasn’t going to come gracefully, but lucky for your father, Bounty hunters had loose morals and business practices much like he did. When he told Brock Rumlow "I don't care how you do it, just get rid of him!" your father didn't know he opened up a new, lawless realm of possibilities.

----

The late summer sun hung low in the sky as you quickened your pace home, the two men behind you following relentlessly, footsteps crunching on the dusty streets. You couldn’t make out their faces as they stayed just out of your line of sight but the feeling in your gut only harbored malevolence and fear. 

Your path meandered through town, twisting and turning to ensure they truly were following you.

Two turns left. Three turns right. Then a detour past the butcher.

Dread settled inside you and you quickened your pace, ragged breaths gasping as you neared the outskirts of town and broke into a full sprint as best you could, bunching your skirts in your arms so as to not trip. The buildings thinned, and the darkness deepened as you drew further and further from the bustling center of Eden. 

Further away from anyone who would hear you scream.

Rough hands grabbed you, forcing a bag over your head as you fought, kicking and screaming. Hissing and spitting like a feral cat. Their powerful builds quickly overpowered you, sitting on your legs as you thrashed trying to squirm away, clawing at the dirt and wedging it under your fingernails and covering your fine dress. Then they tied you, bound your arms and legs and threw you on the back of a horse like a sack of grain.

When the horse finally halted you were dragged off, stumbling and disoriented. The hood was yanked off and you were roughly pushed into a small, dark room. You turned finally able to make out the face of your captors who reeked of sweat and malice. He was tall and broad, skin tanned by the sun, with dark hair and eyes. He would have been handsome if this were any other circumstance.  

Your nostrils flared like an angry bull as you exhaled and spat at him in defiance while he manhandled your still fighting body, “Let go of me!” You shrieked, anger overpowering your feelings of fear. 

How dare they! How dare these filthy men put their hands on you and soil a perfectly good dress. How dare they throw you on a horse with a bag over your head and force you into this filthy damp room. Your rage bubbled over, you’d never felt this level of anger before. But the sheer callous disrespect of a lady pushed you over the edge. 

You should have been afraid, fearing for your life even. But the type of men who did this? Well they were cowards. Lower than the lowest cretin to walk the Earth. 

“Well look at you, now I know why Barnes has taken such an interest in you Missy.” The man in front of you grinned like a snake. His hand trailing your jaw, fingers lingering against your skin, “you’re a little firecracker ain’t you?” 

You turned your head to bite him, teeth snapping together as you snarled.  Ordinarily, you epitomized the quintessence of a respectable lady—devout and pious, a paragon of Catholic virtue. Yet, confronted with this dehumanizing treatment, a primal instinct awakened within. If they insisted on regarding you as a beast, then, in the eyes of the Almighty, you would unleash the ferocity of one. “Let me go.” You hissed, “You… you cretin!”    

The man shoved you roughly away, narrowly dodging your bite, “Easy there ma’am, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” For some reason you had a hard time believing him with the kidnapping, the pushing, the bag over your head, “We just need you to bring us out cash cow.” He said and slid over a wanted poster with an uncanny portrait of Bucky on it.

Oh

Now it all made sense. 

You took the poster and read the script:

WANTED CAPTURED DEAD OR ALIVE James “Bucky” Barnes  For multiple accounts of murder, theft, and fraudulent activities. Known leader of the Barnes Gang, responsible for numerous bank and train robberies across the Midwestern and Western United States. This is a dangerous individual who will not hesitate to murder.  Mid thirties, brown hair, scar on left arm. Last scene heading west towards the Eden Mountain range.  If spotted DO NOT APPROACH; contact local authorities.  Bounty of $5,000

Of course they’d take you as bait to lure a man with a $5,000 bounty and his gang of merry bandits out from hiding. Something told you that these men thought taking down Bucky would be easy. But you knew this would probably be the hardest $10k they were going to make. They’d probably die doing it! And silently you hoped they would.

A man’s head isn’t worth $5,000 because it’s easy work taking him down. It’s worth that much because he won’t hesitate to fucking kill you in the worst way possible. You didn’t know exactly what Bucky was capable of doing, but you couldn’t help the shiver that crept up your spine when your eyes landed on the big, bold DO NOT APPROACH, “I think for your sake, you should let me go.” 

Perhaps there was a touch of madness in relishing the thrill that such a perilous man inspired within you. Yet, it was the very specter of danger that ignited a fervent blaze deep in your core. To you, Bucky was a flame dancing provocatively over a pool of oil—intensely captivating and inherently volatile.

The dark haired man scoffed, “Your beau ain’t the big bad man everyone seems to think he is. Not when he’s got such an easy weakness to exploit.” 

It was true, Bucky was having the time of his life in Eden Ridge playing house with you. He was living in utter domestic bliss.   “If it’s money you want, my daddy will pay you.” You offered. You had to exhaust all your options and if these men were money hungry then your father would be more than happy to give them the $10k for your life. You didn’t know how much money he had exactly, but you knew it was a pretty penny. 

“Sweetheart, your daddy already paid us.” He mocked you. 

You blinked, brain barely able to comprehend the words he said to you. What a weird thing to say. 

Unbelievable even. 

You were going to have to dissect that at a later date when you were in a better position. 

[crimeronan]

i think the wildest cognitive dissonance i've had re: the realization that the average (?) tumblr user Truly Does Not Look At The News was when like. people started bitching and moaning that "everyone" was focusing on crimew being a trans catgirl anarchist without actually looking at the importance of her work in leaking the no-fly list.

when earlier that day i had clicked on a top CNN headline reading something like "hacktivist leaks US no-fly list, exposes racial discrimination, islamophobia, bans on two-year-old children"

(i don't remember the exact wording. i know it was About The Important Shit.)

and then i'd logged onto tumblr. and only THEN found out that the hacktivist was a trans catgirl anarchist. CNN's early reporting did not give A Fuck about that At All, because THERE WAS A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THE NO-FLY LIST.

so imagine my surprise scrolling thru tumblr's meme coverage like

me: oh shit the no-fly list leaker who exposed all that heinous shit is a trans catgirl? good for her that's delightful :)

a sizeable portion of tumblr's population, for some fucking reason: nobody would come to my house and click on article links for me so now i'm mad that my memes don't double as exhaustively researched current event bulletins :( HOW DARE THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA SILENCE US >:(

[youmarin]

I Don't Like You | Hanamaki Takahiro x Reader!

Word count: 5,462

Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro x reader (enemies to...) Oikawa Tooru x reader, Iwaizumi Hajime x reader and Matsukawa Issei x reader (all platonic)

Another day, another class, another occasion for Hanamaki Takahiro to disrupt it with the ruckus he and his best friend Matsukawa had going on at the back of the classroom. You rolled your eyes. 

You’ve known the strawberry blonde ever since middle school. He was slightly popular with being on the volleyball team and everyone saw some sort of charisma in him that you failed to appreciate. To you, he was just a class clown who liked attention. An insufferable, dumb jock. 

Then you were first year highschoolers. You almost cried while you read the lists of your assigned homerooms when you stumbled upon his name. One thing was just bearing with him in the hallways, but now he was your classmate? 

“Sorry, my bad. Dude, stop fucking pushing me.” He absentmindedly apologized to you as his dark haired friend nudged him to make way to the front line before the bulletin board. 

“How?” You heard Iwaizumi exclaim. 

“Did you two bribe the principal or something?” Oikawa chuckled. “How is it that you ended up in the advanced courses?”

“What? What are you talking about? We wouldn’t be so dumb to do that.” 

“Well, apparently you aren’t as dumb as to not make it into first class.” 

“No wonder we couldn’t find ourselves anywhere else.” 

“I heard the advanced English teacher is hell.” some other student said, and they picked it up. 

“Oi, is that true?” Matsukawa asked warily.

“A lot of people have said that. They said a lot of upperclassmen used to complain about her.”

“But-But these are optional right? You can change to regular classes if you don’t like where they placed you.” Hanamaki asked not so confident.

“Sure. But you can validate these as college courses. If you plan to go.” Hajime explained. “You should give it a try either way.” 

“If by midterms you’re failing you could switch up. Or find a tutor.” Oikawa advised. 

“How is it that you’ve been in advanced courses all this time? Honestly, I never saw you as the smart type outside of a volleyball court.” Oikawa was triggered and offended, to say the least. 

“FYI, I’m very smart. Also I work hard and that pays off.” He adjusted his glasses.

“And y/n has saved his ass countless times.” Added Iwaizumi knowingly. 

“Y/n?” Hanamaki asked curiously, “That name rings a bell. Is it that nerdy girl with glasses who makes out everyone else is stupid and thinks she’s hot shit?” 

“No. How dare you confuse my sweet y/n with that meanie. She’s bitter because y/n always beats her and is first in our class. Wait, there she is. Y/n-chan!” Oikawa called out to you and Hanamaki followed his gaze ‘til he met a girl: average height, long, wavy black hair, cinnamon kissed skin, full lips, small nose and dark eyes. You smiled at Oikawa and at Iwaizumi who was by his side. But when your eyes landed on him and Mattsun you became serious. 

“Huh. Smart, pretty too. But, ” Matsukawa said, looking at you as you made your way over to them. “she looks quite scary.” 

“She can be.” Iwaizumi agreed, “but she’s good.” 

“How is a shrimp scary?” Hanamaki snorted, making fun of his friends.

“Who are you calling shrimp, My Melody?” you bit back. 

“Oh.”  Yeah, Mattsun still found you scary.

“Just so you know, that’s a compliment.” He smirked at you. “Bad bitches look good in pink.” 

“Okaaay off to a rough start I see.” Oikawa made a survey of the situation. “Y/n, you’re making me look bad.” 

“Huh, I thought that was just how you looked.” Iwaizumi pondered, making you laugh. Okay, she laughs, Makki thought.

Oikawa glared at his spiky haired best friend “Whatever.” He plastered a smile on his face addressing you, “I wanted to officially present to you some new classmates.” He gestured towards the duo, “Meet-“

“Hanamaki Takahiro.” He cut Oikawa off. 

“Matsukawa Issei.” followed the tall, black haired boy, throwing an arm over the former’s shoulders. 

“Oh I know you two.” 

“Keeping tabs about us?” 

“Rather staying clear of you.” 

“Tōru, I think your friend chose to be sour today.” 

“I… Hope we can get along. Someday.” Matsukawa said awkwardly. 

Back to the present, you were now in your last semester as second years and to your surprise he’d managed to stay in the group - barely making it yet somehow- and you still thought the same way about him. 

“Is there something you two want to share with the class, Mr. Hanamaki and Mr. Matsukawa?” 

“Uh, not really, sir. You see, this is a private conversation.” Takahiro answered, gesturing between Mattsun and himself.

“Then why don’t you take your private conversation to somewhere more private, like the principal’s office?” The teacher said.

“I wouldn’t want to bother the principal, sir.” You noticed how the rest of the class held back their smiles. Your teacher sighed, asking for patience from the heavens to deal with a brat. 

“Alright. I'll humor you too. In fact, class, thanks to Hanamaki you’re all to hand over the exercises from pages 67 to 72 in their entirety. They’ll be part of your grade for a surprise test.” If anyone had a trace of a smile on their face it had vanished now, and the entire class erupted in complaints, some throwing nasty looks at the culprit, remarkably his other two friends. Iwaizumi and Oikawa turned on their seats and muttered something to him. 

“Nice job, dumbass.” 

You gathered your things when the teacher dismissed the class. In fact, you just had to review your notes and the material from your textbook. You had already done the exercises from the workbook in advance, given that March was approaching and with it your finals. You had tons of homework assigned already, and you didn’t like to pile them up. 

“Y/n-chan.” You heard his singsong voice. Almost everyone had left the room besides the four volleyball team players and you. The teacher had held Makki and Matssun back to reprimand them. 

“Let me guess. You want the answers to the exercises.” You told Oikawa knowingly. 

“I don’t think the answers will be enough.”  Oikawa grimaced. “I would like to understand what he’s talking about if he’s going to make us pass a test.” 

You smiled a bit amused, “So, study session?” 

“Of course! Have I told you you’re an angel? 

“Yes, you have. Every time you use flattery to make up for what you asked.” Iwaizumi looked at him disgustingly. 

“I don’t know, she seems more like a demon to me.”  Hanamaki shared as he walked over to the rest of you, Matsukawa following him. 

You glared at him before dismissing his comment and addressing Iwaizumi, “You’re joining?” 

“Uh- Sure. I could use a little help too.” He gave you a small smile, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“Oh you’re making a study group?” Mattsun asked, interested. Makki wished he could take back his latest comment. While Oikawa saw the opportunity and grasped it. Hajime saw his intentions clear in the brunette’s eyes. 

‘Oh, yes! It’s perfect. Why don’t we all study together?” He suggested. It was a great plan where you could sort things out with both class and Hanamaki. It was hard for him that his friends didn’t get along -for whatever the reason was- when you spent most of your days together during class and rather often outside. He could try to make Makki be a little gentler with you and if he managed to convince Hajime to do the same with you he was sure it’ll work out. 

“Uh I don’t know…” you looked over indiscreetly at Hanamaki. 

Makki was about to respond “Wait. Me? With you?” He made a face. As much as he could use your help he’d rather die on the spot than asking you. But Tooru kicked him slightly, making him yelp in surprise, stopping him from finishing whatever he planned to say. “Okay, okay. If you don’t mind.” He muttered throwing foul looks at Oikawa. 

It was Monday, the volleyball club’s day of rest, so the group walked together straight to your house when school was over. You walked ahead with Iwaizumi, the air still cold in the mid February twilight. Your cheeks were turning slightly rosy, and you could see your breath when you exhaled. You wished you had brought your scarf. 

As you all agreed to stop at a coffee shop, Oikawa threw a look at Makki and gestured something before he left with Hajime to order. He didn’t understand what the former wanted, “What?” he mouthed.

Tooru almost groaned. This is why girls say chivalry is dead. 

Matsukawa picked up the message instead. “Here.” He said, getting your attention. Taking off his black scarf, he didn’t lose time to gently place it around your neck, not giving you any time to protest nor reject his gesture. 

“Thanks.” You welcomed in the warmth the soft fabric brought, and Mattsun took that as a win. Sure, he’d felt that during the past months you had at least become acquaintances and had been polite to each other. Things between you weren’t as hostile as when it came to Hanamaki, who finally rolled his eyes as he understood what the brunette meant. He’d lost the opportunity. Mattsun gave him a sorry look, but soon Makki brushed it off. Why did he have to be nice to you when you were the one who acted like you had a stick up your ass every time you were around him? He never did anything to you. 

“We’’ll go to my room so as not to disrupt my parents.”  

“Is your mom home? I'd like to greet her.” Your mom had already met Oikawa by the countless times he’d been over. She loved him and needless to say she would plan your wedding if you so much as told her you liked him. But to her dismay you were just friends. Your dad didn’t like him though. He said pretty boys like him must be looking to break your heart. Also Tooru was scared of him. 

“She’ll be here later.” You told him as you guided them through the hallway and to your room. 

“Would like to know where she gets her attitude from.” Makki said under his breath. 

“Oikawa would say from his dad because he doesn’t like him.” Hajime confided and they snickered, making fun of the brunette. 

Tooru sneezed, then turned to both of them at the same time you did, “What are you two going on about?” 

“Nothing.” 

You had gone out of the room for a moment, telling the boys to make themselves comfortable, feeling a little mortified to let into your house and into your room a boy you supposedly hated his guts. 

Oikawa jumped in your bed while Iwaizumi got your desk chair, and Mattsun sat on a bean bag chair on the floor. Hanamaki inspected your room, seeing several posters of your favorite musicians, a CD player laying on your bed that Oikawaa had grabbed, bookshelves, drawings on top of your desk, pictures - Mostly of landscapes but there were also family pictures . He recognized you with Iwaizumi and Tooru on a couple -, some paintings on the wall and some on the floor waiting to be hanged. 

“It’s a nice bedroom.” he commented, and everything was going fine, until he opened his mouth again, “I remember this girl that took me over to her place and she had this collection of creepy porcelain dolls on one big shelf that covered the wall opposite her bed. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get i-”

“Okay,” you came back in time to cut him off, carrying another bean bag chair in for him, “Thanks for the compliment on my room but I don’t need to hear that.” 

“Right. Sorry. Forgot you probably have never gotten laid, or either kissed someone.” 

“Ugh, Makki, please shut the fuck up.” Oikawa shook his head and Hajime brushed a hand down his face. He was unbelievable. 

“Not that is any of your business, but I do have kissed someone.” You said calmly as you took your notebooks out of your bag and sat next to Oikawa. 

“That’s a shocker. Who?” He said, plopping down on the chair as he finished his tea. 

“Why do you care?” You raised a brow and Oikawa smiled down at his hands. In any other moment he would be harassing you about the subject in question to know but he was being real quiet. 

“I don’t but since you’re dropping information like that you could just share the whole thing.” He shrugged. “Does he go to Seijoh too?” 

“Yes.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

He smirked, as if realizing something, “Nah, wait. Bet it was some weird ugly ass kid and that’s why you don’t want to tell.” 

Now if he wasn’t able to speak, you four would’ve witnessed a miracle that evening, “Excuse you?! Who the hell you dare call ugly. If I may say I’m the prettiest male in the room.” Oikawa came clean and you smacked him right in his chest so hard he lost his breath for a moment. 

“Oh great.” you muttered, a hand covering your face. 

“No fucking way.” Makki started with a chuckle, staring at Oikawa incredulously.

“You didn’t know?!” Mattsun asked Iwaizumi given his expression.

 Hajime shook his head, “No wonder you weren’t curious.” 

“Really? This guy?” Matsukawa continued. 

“What does that mean?” Oikawa whined. 

“Fine. We were in middle school and were what? 15?” 

“Yeah I had just turned 15. And you were still 13.” Oikawa smiled as he recalled. 

“So you dated?” 

“Not really. We’ve always been good friends. It just happened, everyone was doing it and we wanted to know what it was like.” 

“We just figured at that moment that if we wanted to have our first kiss there wasn’t anyone better than us.” You chuckled, flustered. It was a little embarrassing, and you basically had forgotten what led you to this conversation. 

“Wait, so,” Hanamaki kept in interrogation mode, “you haven’t kissed anyone else since him?” 

“No.” you shook your head, “What are we doing? What am I doing? Grab your notes and let’s start studying.”

*

Spring brought new beginnings, a gentler breeze, slowly beginning to bid farewell to winter with soft sunny days and much livelier nights. 

Your eyes captured the pretty pink veil made out of cherry blossom trees, which flowers rained down as their branches danced with the gusts of wind. It was very romantic walking under the pink snow. 

Hanamaki was walking to school that morning when he saw you as he turned in the curve and got to the main road. He didn’t live far from your house, so sometimes - when he wasn’t late- he saw you. The couple of times you’d noticed him, you’d just nodded in acknowledgment and continued your way, walking with him just a few steps back. He wondered if he should greet you. Thinking about that time at your house it wasn’t that bad between you two. Hopefully you might think the same. 

He debated with himself and at the end chose to go for it, words dying in his mouth when he saw you stop to take pictures. Makki wondered how many cherry blossoms were in your camera roll by now. He waited as to not interrupt you, and that’s when it happened. He saw you slip as you were about to resume walking, and before he knew it he was running to catch you, under the risk of slipping on the blossoms himself and breaking something. 

You had screamed and closed your eyes tightly, accepting your fate, but the fall didn’t come. Instead, you felt a pair of arms engulfing you in a secure grip. You opened one of your eyes and were met with a worried Hanamaki looking down on you. “You okay?”  Having not recovered your speech yet, you nodded hastily. Then, grinning, “Falling for me?” 

“Shut up.” There it was. “Going to help me stand up?” you shrieked as he made it to let go of you while he laughed. 

“You really thought I would drop you after all?” Some of the flowers had gotten on his hair. He did as you said when you just remained silent looking up at him and his smile, and got you back on both feet safely. 

 “You could’ve hurt yourself.” You said, avoiding looking at him. 

“So you mean to say I was supposed to let you fall?”  you shrugged and he scoffed. Makki took a look at you: your hair had gotten a bit messier, hands buried in the pockets of your jacket, expression serious and rosy cheeks. He wouldn’t lie, he thought you looked cute. “Or by any chance you’re worrying about me?” 

“I’m not.” you quickly protested, frowning. “But I don’t want to be the reason you miss volleyball club.” 

“Of course. It’s just that.” He raised a brow, amused as you nodded along. You still weren���t looking at him. “A “thank you” would’ve been enough for me.” 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re very welcome.” he smiled, pleased, but it quickly vanished as you turned to keep walking. “Wait, hey- Wait up!” He hurried to fall into step with you, careful not to slip, “We can walk to school together since we’re here.” 

“No, thanks.” you spoke back to him.

“I thought we just had a moment back there.” he gave you a side look. “And back at your house you had to admit it wasn’t so bad.” 

“Yeah, after I cut you off before you could talk about sex.” 

“Jealous?” 

“Ugh, this is what I’m talking about.” you stopped and turned to him, irritation clear on your voice and in your features. “You’re so unserious. “I’ll be surprised if you actually cared about something.” 

A look crossed his eyes you couldn’t quite grasp. Did it actually hurt him what you said? No, whatever you said couldn’t possibly matter to him. You continued walking, thinking he wouldn’t say anything but then he spoke up, “Okay, you can think whatever you want. Even if you barely know me.” 

When you reached the school gates, he spoke up again, “Honestly, I think you could be nice. Maybe if you weren’t so worried about everything and guarded all the time… I don’t know. I think you could use some unseriousness.” Then he went ahead, leaving you to take a deep breath to get your cool back and reflect on what he had just said. 

Maybe… Maybe you’ve gone a little too far. 

*

 It was the day of the opening ceremony and you were about to begin your last year of high school. 

“Oi! Sour Patch kid.” You heard him call you by that nickname he’d picked for you. Makki was waiting for you at the entrance of the hall. Ever since that conversation you had, your behaviour around him had improved. He wondered if it had something to do with whatever he might’ve said - he’d forgotten most of it by now-. But he wasn’t complaining, and neither were the rest of the boys. At least now you could stand in a room without throwing comments at each other. It was a sort of silent truce. 

“Where are the others?” You asked, looking around for them. Still, it felt awkward to be left alone with him.  

“Oikawa was held back somewhere by a bunch of girls and Hajime went to the rescue. Mattsun is saving our seats.” You nodded.

“They let you inside like that?” You signaled. 

“Oh. That. We avoid the principal and the teachers.” He shrugged. He gave a step back and threw his hands up as you stepped over to him. “Woah, what the hell are you doing?” 

“You could at least button up your shirt.” You started to fix it up for him under his nervous gaze. “And where is your tie?” 

“I didn’t- I didn’t bring one.” He stuttered an answer and you shook your head. 

You fixed his collar without it. “There. Looks much better now at least.” You smiled, satisfied with your work, until you looked up at him. He was staring at you intently. You hadn’t removed your hands from his shoulders. 

“Sorry for being late!” Oikawa shouted and sighed as if he had been running for miles, breaking whatever spell you had fallen under and startling you both, “What were you two doing?” 

“Waiting for you. What else?” You crossed your arms defensively.

“Did our homeroom teacher see you?” Iwaizumi said to Makki and snorted. “You look like a model student for once.” 

When you three walked inside, Mattsun waved you over. “Makki, you look… pink. And I’m not talking about your hair.” He spoke to his best friend who was blushing furiously. 

*

One of your new teachers had thought that by moving Makki to another seat far from Mattsun or the other boys she was doing something. What she didn’t know was that the strawberry blonde was capable of making conversation with almost anyone. 

“From now on you’ll sit next to y/n.”  Your eyes widened and you gave her a pleading look. She glanced at you understandingly yet you could see her asking for your cooperation. Mattsun looked dramatically devastated as Hanamaki grabbed his stuff and switched places with the boy beside you. Iwaizumi and Tooru looked at each other. Things were either very convenient or about to go to hell. 

“Hello, partner.” He smiled at you while you merely gave him a look before turning your attention back to the lecture as the teacher took over where she had left. Hanamaki then attempted to start a conversation with the guys sitting behind you, yet they seemed a little apathetic. Turning to his side, his intentions were quickly discarded. No way in hell he was speaking to that Yui girl. So he propped his head in his hand as he tried to keep his attention on what the teacher was saying. 

After she gave the instructions for the day’s class work, you started to complete it diligently. By your side, Makki looked over at the board, then back to his notebook, turning his pencil on his hand and back again. To be honest, he had no clue about what he was supposed to do, yet he gave it a go. You threw glances now and then to your right, and seeing him erase something for nearly like the tenth time, you spoke, “Do you need help?” Iwaizumi perked up at the sound of your voice and nudged Oikawa, pointing towards you two. 

“Me? No. I’’m doing great. Easy.”  Oikawa smacked himself on the face. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, just… Peachy.” 

“Okay.” You went back to your notebook. Glancing around as lost as he was, he looked back again: notebook, board, you. 

He sighed, “Okay, I lied.” he admitted, “ I could use a little help.”  

You did the rest of the work together while you explained it to him. Makki swore no one had ever explained to him something as easy as you made it seem. Every day during that class you two worked seamlessly together, and needless to say everyone was surprised, and each time Hanamaki caught himself staring at you more. Noticing your small smiles, the small frown etched on your face as you focused, how you pushed your hair back from falling over your notebook until you gave up and tied it up in a messy bun instead, how you explained the things he didn’t understand. 

One day during practice, Mattsun caught him staring at you while you chatted with Oikawa sitting on the benches. The setter had sprained his ankle and was out until he recovered. They had a practice match soon, so his mood wasn’t the best, but you keeping him company kept his thoughts from spiraling. He laughed at something you said, making you smile. 

“You think Oikawa might like y/n?” Makki found himself asking as they practiced underhand passes. 

Hajime, who had paired with Kyōtani and was beside them, snorted, “He’s simping over his girlfriend so that’s out of the question.” 

“Didn’t they break up?” Mattsun asked. 

“Almost. They’ve been arguing a lot lately.” Iwaizumi clarified, then turned to Makki, “Why do you ask anyway?” 

“Unbelievable.” Matsukawa let the ball drop, “You like her.” 

“Doesn’t she hate him?” Kyōtani brought up and the trio stared at him. 

“Of course I don’t. That's ridiculous.” He brushed Matsukawa’s statement off as if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “And you,” he pointed at Kentarō, “are wrong. We hate each other.” 

“Oi! I’m still here and watching you all. Why are you stopping? Quit gossiping and get back to practice!” The captain yelled at them. “We have to crush Karasuno with or without me. But hopefully with me.”  You shook your head as he smiled, pleased with simply the idea. 

“Hate each other my ass.” Matsukawa called him out, “You’re always searching for her.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“So you fell for her but she hates you?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Kyōtani.” 

“What if I don’t?” 

“Well things have gotten better between you two but I can’t say from her part.” Iwaizumi thought. 

“Y/n/n,” Oikawa started, his demeanor changing all of a sudden, “Do you think I’m a shitty person?” 

“What? Of course not!” you laughed, yet you were confused, “What made you even think that?” 

“I don’t know.” He was looking down, fidgeting with his hands. Suddenly he resembled a little boy being lectured, “The way I act sometimes…” 

“That doesn’t make you a shitty person, Tōru. It just makes you a human being.” you smiled at him even though he wasn’t looking at you, “And I don’t think you really hate Tobio or Ushijima. You two just have this rivalry and it’s because you care so much for what you do. Well that’s how I see it. You’re great, don’t let anyone make you believe you aren’t.”

He nodded, finally turning to look at you with a smile. “Do you know I love you?”

“I love you too, stupid.” You laughed as he threw himself at you and kissed your cheek, “Be careful.” Then he laid his head on your lap and you brushed his hair as he looked up at you. “How’s stuff with Aoi?” His girlfriend that clearly disliked you.

He sighed, “We’re back talking but… She’s being distant.” He feared she might break up with him after all. “But let’s not talk about that.” 

“Then what?” you said expectantly. 

“How about you and Makki?” 

“What about him?” you looked over to the court and your eyes found him. 

“You don’t seem to hate him as much.” He chose his words carefully. 

“I don’t.” And that was what he called progress. “I still think he’s weird and a pain in the ass though.” But remember: don’t count your wins too soon.

“You’re not exactly the definition of normal.” you smacked him and he laughed. 

“Neither are you.”  

“Thanks.”  . . . “But do you find him attractive?” 

“What are you on now?” you said with a scandalous face that wasn’t not funny, but you were blushing. Oikawa took that as a yes.  

“Nothing. I was just asking.” 

“I don’t like him if that’s what you’re assuming. And I’m sure he doesn’t like me either.”  

“Want me to ask him?” 

“No. What for?”  

*

Next morning, you were a sight (not in a good way). Somehow, Hanamaki Takahiro had made his way into your dreams, startling you awake in the dead of the night. After that, you tossed and turned but weren’t able to go back to sleep. Finally, you had lost it, you thought. You blamed Oikawa’s absurd questions.

“Are you okay?” The brunette dared to ask when he saw you, “You look a little…” 

“You look terrible.” Hanamaki cut him off bluntly. You glared at both boys, and they backed off as you walked by over to your seat.  

Iwaizumi smacked both on the back of their heads, following you. “Way to go, idiots.” 

Needless to say, during class you were struggling to not doze off. After doing a pretty good job during morning periods, it was during your last class that you finally succumbed. Thankfully, since Iwaizumi was sitting in front of you, the teacher couldn’t notice from his spot in front of the class. 

Makki was sitting next to you too, and when he glanced your way he found you asleep. His gaze became softer seeing your relaxed features, your head lying on one of your arms folded on top of your desk. 

Later at home when you sat at your desk and took your things out of your bag to begin your study session, something slipped out from between your notebooks. Stranged, you picked it up, and saw the note stuck to the papers. “Notes from litt. class. Get some proper rest later. No use messing with someone who can’t talk back.” - Hanamaki 

You read the words over and over, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. 

*

“It’s weird, y/n’s still not here.” Iwaizumi mentioned. The day of the practice match had come, and you were always there early to wish them good luck before you went to find a seat at the stands.

“There’s still a few minutes.” Mattsun allowed. “Makki’s not even here yet.” 

Aoi had come to see Oikawa and he’d gone out of the locker room for a moment to meet her before the match, otherwise he would be complaining about your unusual tardiness. He certainly would later. 

You were hurrying towards the gym at the same time the other team arrived and was about to go inside, getting the attention of some of them. “Look, it seems like Seijoh got a cute manager too since the last time we met.” 

You were wearing your PE tracksuit pants with the school t-shirt so thinking back you should’ve known that was what caused the misunderstanding. A dark haired boy you recognized as the libero stood in front of you. 

“Hey there, Miss manager.” He gave you a smile. 

“Hello,” you started politely yet the look in your eyes showed you were confused, “Manager? I’m sorry I’m not-” 

“What’s your name?” He barely let you get a word in. The captain was about to interfere, knowing where things were going but Sugawara stopped him. 

“I’m Y/n. But I’m not-” 

“Are you going out with someone?”  

You shook your head, “I-” 

“Sorry, man, she has a boyfriend.” your eyes went wide, as you heard none other than Makki - who was late- speak up. Standing now behind you, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, leaving your cheeks burning, “You okay, love?”  Love?  Then he looked over at the boys seriously. 

Sugawara snorted. 

“Boyfriend?!” You two bursted into the locker room. “What the hell was that?!”

“Well, it worked. None of them will bother you now.” He seemed amused rather than bothered by what he just did unlike before when he saw that guy flirting with you, although he was blushing too now that you came into the room with some of the boys still inside shouting about what happened. Being a sweetheart, as always, he thought. 

“You do tell, please.” Matsukawa smirked, “What are you two lovers quarrelling about now?”  

“Your friend just told the whole Karasuno team we’re a couple.” 

“What the hell made you do that?” Iwaizumi asked before he started laughing. His friend was an idiot.

“Same thing I’m asking.” 

“Some guy was bothering her so I told them we’re together to get him and anyone else off her.”  which Mattsun translated as I was jealous in his head as he looked at him biting his tongue to not call him out on his bullshit. 

“They found out before me?!” Oikawa screamed by the door, entering the room. 

“It’s not true!” 

“Not yet.” Mattsun muttered to himself, “But you’ll have to play along, right? Otherwise they’ll think you’re both liars.” Speaking up as a proper best friend and wing man. 

“What?” you looked at him, then towards the strawberry blonde, “It’s not like they’ll be paying me much attention.” 

“But my girlfriend should cheer for me.” He shrugged his shirt off and you looked away, flustered,  while he put on his uniform. Then he grabbed the extra one he had and threw it your way.  His club shirt. With his name, and the number three stamped on both sides. 

“How are you so calm about this?” You stared at the piece of fabric, then nervously up at him. “Everyone at school will think we’re together. Are you really okay with that?” 

“I don’t care what they think. Do you?”

A/N: Another example of terrible fic names for you! First time writing for my Seijoh boys. Oh I love them so much and hope you like the interactions between them and with y/n. Was going through Makki brainrot again back in December but also had to show some love to my Oiks <3. Also this had like 5 extra pages on my docs. buuut I wasn't entirely sure with how it was going and I still don't get a good scene to end this story lol. Until next time! -Youmarin

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In The Cold November Rain Part 9 *18+ MDNI*

Eddie Munson/FemReader Steve Harrington/FemReader

TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end *Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any. NSFW Lots-o-smut

Can you have two great loves in a lifetime? 

You've had the ideal childhood in Hawkins with your best friend & protector Steve Harrington. When it's ripped away, can you pick up the pieces? Eddie Munson may be able to help.

A story about the pain of growing up, unrequited love, and loss.

Part 9/13 Masterlist Ao3

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AN: This is a short one but my favorite part. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am beyond grateful to everyone who has read. Your comments, reblogs, and likes mean more than I could express in writing.

Sincerest Thanks To @loveshotzz who can be found most evenings & weekends in Eddie's bed.

Inspired by @loveshotzz & notes by @eddieandbird​

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A letter of early acceptance to Purdue arrived one cold afternoon in January. Your mother cried, and your dad gave you one of his big bear hugs. All you could do is stare at the words in shock. You were leaving Hawkins. The Purdue campus was in West Lafayette. Roughly a hundred and eighty-six miles from Eddie. The undefined and easy relationship you shared suddenly became vastly complex. Before you got the courage to tell him, the guidance counselor posted a list of Purdue attendees on the bulletin board outside the office. Eddie was standing in front of it, his fingers skimming the names when you came out of American history. His head turned, and his eyes caught yours as other students passed between you on their way to the next class. His face remained neutral before he turned and walked in the opposite direction. He wasn't at lunch, and no one at your table knew where he was. 

The snow makes a crunching sound under your boots as you tromp through the woods behind the school. It's pretty here. Quiet. A fresh coat from the storm last night makes everything sparkle like it's covered in glitter. A short gust of cold air blows through trees as you approach the clearing. Eddie is sitting at the picnic table alone, smoking, wearing a green beanie that matches his plaid scarf. His leather jacket zipped up tight, trapping his body heat inside.

"What are you doing out here, Princess? It's too cold out for you. Be a good girl and go back inside."

"It's too cold out here for you, too," you say, enclosing his red fingers between your mittened hands. "Come inside with me, and I'll give you half my turkey sandwich. I think my mom might have packed some of those pretzels you like so much."

"I can't," he says, standing. "I have somewhere to be."

"Where are you going?" You ask, following him through the woods towards the student parking. 

"Since when do I answer to you, Your Highness?"

His black boots leave behind deep footprints, and you try stepping where he walked. 

"Are you fucking skipping class again?" He stops suddenly, and you run into his back.

Careful, Princess. You're starting to sound like a sailor." He says over his shoulder before he starts walking again. 

"So, where are you going?" You ask again, resuming your game, hoping in and out of the holes in the snow. 

"Rick got some new product. I need to stock up before the weekend."

"And that's more important than school?" 

"Yeah, it is. That's how I make money. Not all of us have Daddy's credit card." 

"If you need money I-" 

He cuts you off and spins around so quickly you almost lose your balance. 

"Don't even fucking finish that sentence, Sweetheart. I don't want a fucking thing from you. You got it! Not a fucking thing!" He yells.

"If you keep missing class, you're not going to graduate." He looks at you incredulously and steps closer, crowding into your space. 

"What do you care? You're gonna be out here so fast that your graduation cap will spin. Off to Purdue. Hawkins will be dust in the rearview, just like everyone in it. Good for you. God knows you are too good for this town."

"I thought…maybe…Can you come with me?" You look at your feet when you ask and push the snow around with the toe of your boot. He laughs in your face. "What the hell am I going to do in Lafayette?"

"People move all the time, Eddie. It's not that big of a deal."

"What reason would I have for moving?"

"I thought being with me might be enough." He starts moving again, and his van becomes visible through the trees. 

"Don't worry. I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding a roommate."

"That's not what I'm asking for, Eddie."

"Then what do you want? What the fuck do you want, Princess? I'm so fucking tired of guessing." The white puffs of his breath float in the air, and his loud voice bounces off the snow-covered trees. A few birds squawk in complaint and fly off. You stay silent. "Look, you don't need me to hold your hand, and I got shit going on here." 

"Why are you pushing me away?"

"I can't push you away if you already have one foot out the door. You're not my mother, and you're clearly not my girlfriend. The last thing I need is fucking nag." You've reached his van, and he opens his door and climbs in the driver's seat.

"I hate you right now." And you mean it. He said he wouldn't hurt you, and you're torn to pieces.

"I hate you too. You're acting like a bitch." He spits out as he slams the door and drives off. 

The rest of the day feels like you're underwater, your body fighting against the current. The voices of the people around you are muted and far away. When the last bell rings, you drive straight home. Crawling fully clothed into your bed, hiding under the covers. Oblivion is your comfort. When you don't come out for meals, your mother gets concerned. She yanks the bottom of your shade, and it springs up, flooding your room with light. Peeking out from under the comforter, you lie and say you're sick. Sleep is what you need. After she leaves, you pull the shade closed. Monday morning, you don't recognize yourself in the mirror. Matted hair and dull red-rimmed eyes reflect back at you. Eddie wasn't at school, it should have been a relief not to see him, but it just made you feel worse. After second period, you find a note in your locker.

I know I fucked up. Please come over after school. 

You don't wait that long. Grabbing your keys, you run to the parking lot. Through your half-frosted windshield, you can see Eddie sitting on the steps of his trailer like he planned to wait in the cold for you all afternoon. He rips open your door and drags you out before you can take the key out of the ignition. He pulls you to his chest, holding you tightly like he's afraid you'll float away. Clinging to him, you keep your eyes closed, absorbing his warmth, breathing him in. No words are spoken. There are no apologies, and there are none needed. You're telling each other everything you need to. It could have been ten minutes, but it felt like hours, standing together, your breaths turning to ice in the winter air. Finally, your deprived lips meet after being apart for too long. They seal in a kiss that nothing could have broken. He picks you up by the back of your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist. Still kissing, he carries you inside.

You're on your back with your knees pushed to your ribs. He's inside you moving imperceptibly slow. Chests pressed together, hearts aligned, their rhythm changing to sync. The feel of his soft skin is hot under your fingertips, his muscles flexing and releasing while your arms hold him tight. It's impossible to be closer. Mouths open, just a fraction apart, trading kisses and swallowing each other's exhales. His gaze tethering you. Everything is heightened. The head of his cock dragging against your inner walls. Every place your slick skin touches, you're set ablaze. This feels different. He feels different, like he's cherishing you. You wonder if you're making love to him.

"Tell me what it would be like in Lafayette," he says, kissing a slow path up your jaw. Wet and open-mouthed tasting your skin. "Daydream for the both of us." Your hand moves to his ass, trying to press him in deeper on the upstrokes.

"We'll find a tiny apartment that we can barely afford. Maybe it will be over the bar where your band plays. I'll waitress there after class, and on weekends so I can listen. We'll be tripping over each other. We'll fight and yell. It will be hard to be together but so much worse to be apart. And at night. You can spend the night inside me."

"That sounds beautiful, Princess." He moves from your jaw to your temple.

"What's your dream?" you ask, pushing the hair from his face.

"You already know it. My dream was to be with you." He retakes your mouth, and you don't discuss it again.

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Part 10

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven

I'm happy to add you to the list!

[oh-sturg]

Things I Like Here.

So I moved from my childhood state a few years ago and I’ve been struggling with adjusting ever since, largely because of the drastic negative change in my social life. But life is beautiful, so I wanted to make a list of things I’ve seen since moving here that I couldn’t get back home! You have to appreciate the little things in life. I’m gonna periodically add more as I see them

- “The Oven Bus” which is just a bus with a brick chimney in it. I wanna know what’s going on in there so badly

- All of the sunsets here are beautiful without fail. Don’t matter what time they happen, even if it’s at 4, it’s beautiful. There’s so many colours in them

- The sign I drive past on the way to work that says “WALTZ IS FOR MURDERING THE UNBORN.” I don’t agree with it but it’s fucking hilarious to see, because it’s in the middle of nowhere

- Related, since we live out in the country now, the pro-life religious bulletins that have the most CGI looking babies on them. Like that baby is not real. Honey

- I almost got into an accident once because there are so many dogs down a 55 MPH road that I just kept looking at the dogs

- The church that has six doors outside on their lawn that say “GOD’S DOORS ARE OPEN TO ALL”

- The church that has a progress flag on its flag post and a BLM flag flying under it. I went there once and it’s full of old people. They were so kind. I want to go back there again

- The kind lady at the Chinese takeout restaurant down the road from us who stayed when the restaurant was empty so I could pick up my order. I wanted my brother to get it but he bailed last minute

- The grocery store down the street that my family has wildly different pronunciations of. It’s within walking distance. I’ve never had that before

- The man today who accidentally bought two tickets for himself. Instead of refunding one, he wanted to give away the other one for free

- The mall Santa I see around Christmas time when he’s on his break. Just walking around. High socks and shorts with a Christmas theme, he’s great

- The little girl yesterday who told me she would get a dog and a fish. When I asked her what she would name the dog, she said “Rainbow Pup”

- The parents who use they/them to refer to me. Even though I personally don’t use those pronouns and don’t like them when they’re used in reference to me, it’s a sign of progress

- The little girl whose parents I sold an annual pass to. I’ve seen her four times. She recognizes me each time and runs to give me a hug

- The toddler who tried to hand me her half-eaten cinnamon-dusted timbit when I asked her for a high five

- The kind people at KwikTrip who never look like they don’t want to be there

- My supervisor who shrieks whenever he walks by me because that’s how I greet people so he’s started greeting me like that as well. He’s an absolute truck of a man who looks like Thor

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

hello everyone !!! as tumblr decided to send me to the shadow real for a month and i do have a tendency to overshere on here, i thought it would be fun to go through my last month to update my lore (the key things are that i now have no bedroom and i am obsessed with ana mena) through my tweets (i was forced to use that website more i'm afraid). and of course, i will translate everything so don't worry :)

hope you like it!!! this is probably gonna be long so i'll add everything under the cut:

we start at day 1 a.T. (after tumblr) which was a very important day actually (pokémon day for those who don't know)

they deactivated my tumblr account for no reason?

2. without tumblr, that day i was forced to go to twitch and see ibai's stream announcing the participants of la velada 3 (unfortunately this won't be my last twitch moment here i'm so sorry)

from left to right and top to bottom:

WHAT IS GOING ON (qrt to: this fight is gonna be legendary. amouranth vs mayichii)

they should kiss (this is about viruzz vs shelao, it is funnier with context sorry)

it's now a reality. this is gonna be insane @/fernanfloo

i think rivers will win (the second tweet it's for context: the second fight of la velada del año 3 is rivers vs la rivers)

3. spoiler alert: i was struggling with uni stuff (and especially administrative uni stuff) all month &lt;3

(it is impossible to translate this tweet literally so bear with me)

it's unbelievable how much the people in the university of wales don't give a fuck

here's the fun little context for this one: i should've started my semester on february 1st. i had received no notice of enrolling in it, there was no way to do it on the page habilitated for it, and my master's director wasn't answering my mails concerning my dissertation proposal and supervisor or anything really. i sent the sorta student help thingie platform a mail on february 28th asking for guidance and they answered me an hour later telling me i could enroll. my master's director also emailed me telling me i had a supervisor now. lol. fun. great.

4. this will not be my only ana mena related tweet in this list i am afraid

(the quoted tweet is the singer ana mena as a little girl in a tv show and a sign that reads 'when she grows up she wants to be an archaeologist') she's made it cause the rest of the spanish musical industry is BONES besides her

5. i swear this is my last twitch moment i think. anyways. the squid games. yeah. it was very funny cause every person whose pov i decided to watch died &lt;3

same order as before:

(the quoted tweet says 'i think i'll watch the squid games from pandarina's pov') tweets that aged up badly: [she died on the first day]

everyone whose pov i'm seeing today dies (ander and zeling) lol

oleeee susi hasn't died let's gooooo

today i won't be able to watch the squid games so i'm only saying @/suzyroxx to the final !!!! [she wasn't in the final <;3]

6. it starts *looks into the distance remembering the horrors*

FINALLY the predoctoral UCM [my uni] scholarships are here folks

and the meme says the same but more accurately <3

7. that time my 55 year old uncle out of nowhere sent me a tiktok of nochentera and told me he loved it

my uncle being a nochenterist exactly (in the pic he only says 'it's so good!!!')

8. there are so many horrors relating to that goddamn predoc scholarship that i don't even remember the context of this one &lt;3

official bulletin of the complutense university or bulletin of shit ??? [this one is funnier in spanish, it's a meme from a show]

9. i do remember this one tho. this was a fun one.

i suddenly have a new thesis director and a master's dissertation supervisor lol

context: this was the day that my master's director emailed me telling me i finally had a dissertation supervior assigned. the other part is funnier. SO. i had a thesis director chosen from when i started all this process. she was great. love you miriam mwah. anyways. she had another student doing the thesis with her (a student that is my friend). turns out, for the ucm predoc shit there could only be one thesis director per person. no fucking clue why. so we all talked it out and thought the best solution was for me to have another one, and maybe miriam could be my co-director in the future. the funny thing is, this new supervisor (cruz) was my first choice way back when i started thinking about doing the ph.d. i just chose miriam in the end cause she was my master's thesis' director. so yeah. i could've chosen cruz from the start and i wouldn't have had these many problems. but whatever.

10. MANDATORY MEMORIAS DE IDHÚN TWEET

plot twist in memorias de idhún the funky little guy is VICTORIA

(they're right btw)

11. the la casa de bernarda alba miami remake incident. this ruined my day, my week, my month and possibly my year as well. if you haven't seen this and feel strongly about federico garcía lorca please skip this one i don't want to ruin your day.

you know the drill:

i'm angry cause i can't go to tumblr and go off [literally it says 'shit on the mothers'] at everyone who thought and adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba IN MIAMI is coherent, logical and necessary.

you have to travel to 2023 to stop that aberration from happening [this one's for my emdt besties <3]

this one is already in english

the only modern adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba i will accept [this day i also realised that episode really is an adaptation of la casa de bernarda alba which made me love paquita salas even more]

lorca reading this

and this one's also in english :)

12. oh btw i rewatched druck s5 and s6 just to feel something. wasn't brave enough to watch s7 & s8 tho &lt;3

[first pic]

the machwitz sisters from druck are the best fictional sisters that exist i don't fucking care if you don't agree

and yes i cried again with them

[pic 2]

the thing about rewatching druck's s5 is that now i want to rewatch druck's s1-4 only because of kiki

literally the best minutt for minutt of all skam i could scream

[pic 3]

possibly my favourite fictional ship above... yes... percabeth

there, i said it

i am once again stanning kieutou i'm so sorry

i was gonna start season 6 tomorrow but it happened

i don't know if i should watch s7 and s8 to be able to say i've watched all druck even if i know they're shitty [spoiler: i didn't do that]

13. maybe i went through a mini-skam craze last month.

people of twitter, it is a pleasure to announce that i have included references to skam in my book [specifically that moment at the end of sana's season when everything with the girls is resolved and she sent a message to yousef to meet up but he isn't answering]

14. i thought this meme was extremely funny and made for me specifically

just in case you don't know; pic 1 is the academy of OT [Operación Triunfo], pic 2 is the geography and history building of the UCM (mini spoiler i went there later in the month), pic 3 is the school entrance in skam, and pic 4 is the pool in druck s3.

15. they interviewed my sister !!!!

here's the link (in spanish) <3

fun fact i found out about this when my mum sent it to the groupchat. my sister and i do live in the same house and speak to each other daily :) they just didn't tell me :)

16. :(

another day missing tumblr

17. i watched a ton of national selections but i only really tweeted portugal's so yeah

i'll go chronologically with these ones so it's less confusing lol

please let nasci maria win it's the only song out of all preselections that i've had stuck in my head

a pretty good top 3 tbh, any of those songs deserves to win

it should be said that i've seen a ton of preselections this year and i've only saved two songs from portugal's preselection in spotify.

well i lied. i think there's also one or two songs from sanremo. but whatever

18. i did this cool pokémon chart which made me realise my favourite pokémon type is steel actually

i've seen fola do this on stream and i wanted to do it myself :)

what do you think people do i have taste or not

here's the chart if you want to take a closer look at it!

19. this was around the time i really started to resonate with carlos peguer's tweets. i think he's the closest thing to a spanish mike's mic so we have to cherish and celebrate him i think.

i felt these tweets about amaia's music on a spiritual level. he was so right.

she really was insane for this

the moon reflects on my BITTEN NAILS [this are the opening lyrics of nuevo verano PLEASE listen to it i'm begging]

20. emdt time!!! i finished s2 but it was so hard to do it without liveblogging it on tumblr :( i tweeted a bit about it tho (but only a little!!!)

why no one told me my town's palace appears in el ministerio del tiempo [i'm kinda glad i wasn't on tumblr here cause i would've purposefully doxxed myself lol. anyways it was certainly something seeing it, especially knowing the actors were IN MY TOWN filming for DAYS and i didn't even know it. disgraceful]

i wish i could talk about the episode i'm seeing of emdt on tumblr cause it's super funny [it was the one where they have to pretend they're a normal ministerio !!!! 10/10 i had so much fun]

21. i also may or may not have gotten addicted to ck3 like a fucking nerd

the way i started playing crusader kings at nine thirty 'to spend some time until i go to bed' and suddenly it's past midnight ????

22. ⚠️the march 15 incident ⚠️ a lot happened today lol. and no, i'm not referring to the ides of march. i even forgot about them. busy day.

you can tell how i went through the whole spectrum of human emotions that day <3 anyways, i'll go in chronological order

how's your morning going people i woke up at 6:45 for a job interview but when i got to the bus stop i realized i don't have the transport chart recharged and i don't have enough money in my bank account to recharge it. lol.

in the end i managed to get to the interview and i even talked with an argentinian guy is this being a normal and sociable person

bomb the ucm

it's impossible for the spring to not be my favorite station, i'm about to cry over how nice this day is

i mean. overall it was a good day. but my memories of it get a bit tainted by the sequel (yes there is a sequel). anyways, let's go with the fun context.

so, yes i did (kinda) have a job interview that day. they haven't called me since so i guess that didn't work out. i had a 1 hour 30 mins trip on public transport to get there so that's why i woke up so early (the interview was at 9:30 i think?). i managed to get there only cause as i got back home to wait for my mum to wake up i got the notification that she had sent me 50 € to my bank account for that day. so i went out again, got to the tram station, recharged my transport card, and then got there. in the end the interview was delayed so whatever but yeah. nothing remarkable there apart from that argentinian guy i chatted with!! like a normal human!!!

anyways, after that i had to go to the ucm (told you i was gonna go there later in the month) because. you guessed it: the ucm predoc. i'm not gonna bore you with the details, but basically i had everything done and filled up, i just needed to sign and sent it to the entity. i couldn't do it online so - after calling and not receiving any answers - i printed everything, signed everything by hand and decided to deliver it in the registry office.

that's what i did, after the registry guy told me i should call the people who were in charge of all that process and calling - i shit you not - 6 different numbers until i got their approval. so that means it was done right? i've finished the process??? right???? lol. we'll come to that in the sequel <3

but yeah, the day was nice, it was super spring-y, and it's always great to go outside of the house so i liked it :)

23. i lost my mind over this tweet specifically

i don't know how to explain how important this picture is to me. like. it's identical to my favourite phrase in the whole world that appears in seneca's mede: medea superest. 'medea remains'. same idea as that sign. i'm gonna combust.

NO WAIT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. the context of 'medea superest' is that the wet nurse is telling medea that she's alone in the world and she answers with that. because despite everything, she still has herself.

despite everything, it's still you.

24. i found my favourite twitter account &lt;3

feliç dijous is 'happy thursday' in catalan btw

25. i listened to all esc 2023 songs and here's my top!!

i hit pic limit so i'll continue this in a part 2 (there's not much left i promise)

[fuck-customers]

working in an 'adult novelty store' does not entitle you, the customer, to intimate knowledge about my anatomy or how 'well' it works, nor does it mean part of my job is trying on lingerie for you, nor does it mean i'm open to repeated lewd invitations or proposals just cus you wanna get lucky - or get a green card - and think that since we sell things that vibrate it means your manners are left on the sidewalk along with your pants. we are a STORE. treat us as any other. my job as a cashier in a store does not mean i'm an escort here for your personal 'curiosity', that is a completely different job that is serviced out of a completely different place of business. please see our list of advertisements posted on the bulletin board thattaway if that's what you're interested in.

also a fuck you to the owners and management in particular for not having the balls to ban customers or enforce boundaries and saying i was 'unreliable' and firing me for having a perfectly reasonable reaction to an awful customer i'd told you about repeatedly and even asked to adjust my schedule since you wouldn't ban his nasty ass, i hope karma bites you big. fuck you fuck you fuck you.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part fifty: "The Interview"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re struggling to finish writing an article at The Bulletin when your work day is unexpectedly interrupted.

Or

Those two men clearly aren't chauffeurs and they are definitely not taking you to an interview.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: This installment beings our descent into the Big Angst arc. Forewarning, there is no comfort in the next handful of installments. Not until you get to "The Aftermath" do you begin to see comfort which is Part fifty-eight. Just a head's up for those who can't handle no comfort without all of the installments posted. We also from now on begin to get occasional Matt POVs! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here, and if you're enjoying it let me know!!

Running your hands through your hair, you stared blankly at your computer monitor. You had almost finished your article, though your word count was just a bit under what you needed it to be for an upcoming issue. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush the longer you stared at the document, willing more thoughts to come to you. With a loud, frustrated groan, you threw your face in your hands. A second later you heard the telltale sound of Katy’s computer chair wheeling back towards your cubicle.

“Struggling still?” she asked.

“Yes,” you whined into your hands. “I can’t think of two hundred more words to say about this upcoming event of which I personally don’t care about.”

“I hear that,” Katy sighed out. “Why don’t you just step away for a bit? No one else is here, Ellison won’t care. Go visit your man or something.”

“Can’t,” you said, sliding your hands down your face. “Court day today. His phone is off and I can’t exactly barge into the courtroom.”

“I mean you could,” Katy replied, shooting you a grin. “Bet he’d have some frustrations of his own to work out, if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself back into your chair. “Katy,” you groaned, “why is it always about sex with you?”

“Have you suddenly gone blind?” she shot back, ignoring the look you sent her at the comment. “Your man is smoking hot. Like sure, he sounds absolutely sweet and smart and wonderful and charming from everything else you’ve told me, but like, don’t tell me you’re not always wanting to bang him when he walks into a room. Because I will not believe you.”

"Okay, you're not entirely wrong," you conceded, "but there's vastly more to that man than sex, Katy."

"Of course there is," she cooed, suddenly adopting a teasing tone. "Because you love him. You want to marry him. You want to fuck his brains out and have an entire horde of fucking beautiful little babies with him."

You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. "Something along those lines, I suppose," you said with a laugh. You abruptly shot her a stern look as her eyes went wide at your admission, pointing a firm finger at her chest. "But that is strictly between us, Katy. You hear me? I don't need to scare him away."

Katy exaggeratedly rolled her eyes back at you. "Oh please, that man is practically married to you already," she said. "Sending lunches to you, walking you home from the office. Asking you to move in on your terms . Buying you expensive flowers when you have a bad day. Taking long ass road trips to spend the holidays with your family."

Your brows furrowed as you glanced back at your computer monitor. "That…doesn't mean he's thinking about marriage," you said slowly. 

"Doesn't it?" Katy shot back, brows raised. 

"No, it just means–"

Your sentence was cut short when you heard your name called through the office. Both you and Katy exchanged a look before you hesitantly rose to your feet. Two large men in suits were standing by the main office door, one of them with a very noticeable scar along his forehead. Both of them had dark, short cropped hair and stern expressions. Your palms began to sweat at the sight of them, your hands balling into fists at your sides. Even under their dark suits you could see their muscles, and the possible shape of something far more dangerous and deadly. 

"That's me," you answered, trying hard to sound like you weren't quickly becoming nervous. "Can I help you?"

"We were asked to invite you for an interview," the man with the scar told you, a false polite smile flashing at you across the room. 

Your brows furrowed, your heart beginning to race. "Oh? I–I didn't have any interviews scheduled for today," you replied, voice shaking.

"No, but Mr. Backman would very much like to discuss some things with you," Scar Face continued. 

"Uh, well, now is not really the best time," you told them quickly, cold fear shooting through your body. You could feel Katy's eyes burning a hole into the side of your head as you spoke. "I have a deadline I'm trying to meet right now. But I could schedule something for later this week?"

The man beside Scar Face crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his arms becoming more prominent with the gesture. You swallowed hard in response, eyes drawn to his intimidating figure; they were obviously trying to scare you and it was very much working. Your fists curled tighter, nails beginning to bite into your skin.

"Well you see," Not Scar Face said slowly, holding your stare unblinkingly as he spoke, "Mr. Backman sent a car for you to come for an interview now. He doesn't exactly do rescheduling."

"You're uh, sure about that?" you asked weakly. 

"Very sure about that," Scar Face agreed. 

Licking your lips nervously, you tried not to externally show how much you were internally panicking. You didn't seem to have a way out of this. They were currently blocking your only exit, and judging by the strange way their suit coats were fitting them, you were certain there was a gun under at least Scar Face’s jacket. It was currently just you and Katy here at the office, too; no other witnesses or hope for any backup were around. And you doubted you could make a call to police, stall these men long enough for them to get here, and then manage to have any sort of excuse to get these men arrested. And if you somehow did manage that, you were certain more men would come for you. And they’d probably be a lot less pleasant and cordial than these two currently were. Not to mention, if you did the wrong thing here, you could be putting Katy in harm's way.

No, you were going to have to go with them, and if they didn't kill you, Matt certainly would after this. 

"Alright, well, do you mind if I just use the bathroom real quick before we go?" you asked carefully, nails biting further into your sweat-dampened palms. 

Not Scar Face was about to respond, his mouth opening as he managed the first syllable, but Katy popped up in her cubicle beside you and briefly startled the two men. Their attention immediately shifted to her short frame, both of them tensing as they took in the sight of her. You saw Scar Face’s hand inching towards the inside of his suit coat, but Katy’s eyes were only on you when she spoke. 

"You need a new tampon before you go?" she asked loudly, ignoring how the two men pulled faces at her question. Her eyes remained fixed on you as she threw out the question you'd both agreed on in the event one of you were ever in a dangerous situation. 

"Yes, actually,” you told her, shooting her a strained smile. “I could use another.”

“Just make it quick,” Scar Face snapped from across the room. “Mr. Backman doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Your attention focused back on the two men across the room as Katy bent down and rummaged through her purse for an actual tampon. Your hand was searching blindly along your desk for your phone as you held their gaze, trying to come across as inconspicuous as you could. 

“Of course,” you said, forcing the strained smile to remain on your face as your hand finally collided with it. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” you assured them as you slowly slipped the device into your pocket.

You turned, breath feeling like it was catching in your throat and stomach roiling uncomfortably with nerves. You focused on Katy, her eyes still locked only on you as she dramatically held up the tampon so the men across the office could see she was indeed handing you one.

“Here,” she said loudly, crossing the space towards you. As you accepted the tampon from her, she quickly whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Call the cops when you leave?”

“Ah, thank you!” you said, nodding faintly.

She sent you a tense smile before you turned and tried to walk as casually as you could towards the women’s bathroom just in the hallway near your cubicle. You pushed the door open, fighting the tremor in your hands as you did, and continued all the way to a stall before locking yourself in. Hands still shaking, you took a moment to catch your breath, tossing the tampon on the bathroom floor. 

You needed to call Matt.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you pulled up your contacts and immediately dialed his number. You held the phone to your ear, but just as you suspected, it went straight to his voicemail. Because he was in court and he always had his phone turned off when he was in court. Closing your eyes, you whispered a curse into the bathroom stall. He’d already recessed for lunch just over an hour ago, you had no idea when he’d be out of court for the day and see your message. But you had to leave one anyway, hoping that he’d get it. 

At the beep you took a deep, shuddering breath and began your message, trying not to be too loud in case the men were somehow waiting near the bathroom.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem,” you began nervously. “There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” You paused, eyes closing as you tried to keep your breathing even–falling into a panic attack would be a terrible idea right now. “I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

Your mouth felt like it was going dry and you swallowed hard, trying to talk faster. You didn’t know how much longer you could pretend you were just using the bathroom. 

“It’s only Katy and I at the office,” you continued in a rush. “She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” You exhaled a shaky breath, the full weight of the situation you were trapped in hitting you hard. “You were right,” you whispered into your phone. “When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.” 

Chewing your lip, your heart thundering in your chest, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes as a multitude of fears raced frantically through your mind. Would Matt even get this message in time to help? How would he even find where they were taking you? What did Backman even want with you? 

And were you even going to make it out of this alive?

Quickly you brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek with the back of your free hand. Fighting down a wave of nausea, you shakily whispered into your phone, “I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” You paused one brief moment, blinking back tears. “I love you, Matt,” you breathed out, voice so quiet even to your own ears.

Pulling the phone from your ear, you hung up. Once again you wiped away the tears that had fallen from your cheeks before you exited the bathroom stall on unsteady legs. You began to slide your phone back into your pocket, but then you briefly paused, pulling it back out and looking down at the little device. They’d surely take your phone from you, probably destroy it so no one could track you with it, right? It’s not like they’d just let you make some calls and shoot some texts with it, so what was the point in bringing it with you? Maybe if you left it behind you’d seem more like a clueless and harmless reporter thinking you were really just going for an interview. Maybe that could work in your favor. 

You could do that. You could play innocent and dumb. So innocent and dumb you didn’t think to grab your phone–because who doesn’t carry their phone? Naive and clueless air-headed people, right? Especially someone who wasn’t thinking they were about to be kidnapped.

With shaking hands, you tossed your phone onto the bathroom counter away from you. Your stomach felt like it was sinking to the floor as you tossed away your only lifeline before walking straight into certain danger. Exhaling one last long breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way out of the bathroom.

Katy spun around on her office chair, her back rigid where she sat. The two men were still standing in front of the exit, arms crossed and looking quite intimidating. Walking towards them felt incredibly wrong, everything in your body screaming not to. You wished you could fight like Matt in this moment, wished you could knock them both out and get you and Katy out of the building–but you weren’t Matt. You weren’t Daredevil. You were just a reporter who’d made a mistake in your investigation and you were about to pay for it.

“Hey, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Katy asked you, her eyes clearly trying to tell you something else.

“Yeah, of course,” you told her, forcing that strained smile back onto your face.

“Good, I got you tonight, alright?” she replied.

“Thank you,” you answered, your eyes also trying to tell her something else.

Forcing your feet to carry you forward, you nervously approached the two burly men who looked irritated and impatient. You tried to wipe your sweaty palms against your dress pants as you stopped in front of them, your heart still wildly thrumming in your chest. 

“Let’s go,” Scar Face grumbled, gesturing with his head down the hall towards the elevator.

You nodded stiffly, fighting to keep your eyes from dropping down to the outline of the gun in his suit coat. He turned and began walking and you followed on trembling legs, Not Scar Face stalking down the hall behind you. As Scar Face hit the elevator call button, you tried to fight down another wave of nervous nausea. You needed to keep your cool, you needed to play a part, and you needed to do it believably. Because it might be your only way out of this.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat and trying to fight the waver in your voice, “what exactly is Mr. Backman’s interest in this unexpected interview?”

Not Scar Face’s attention shifted towards you and you refrained from flinching under his stare, his cold eyes studying you. You tried to keep your breathing steady as you held his gaze, very much trying to look like a curious and naive journalist.

“You can ask him yourself soon enough,” Not Scar Face told you.

The elevator doors opened, revealing that familiar empty and small space that now seemed terrifying to you. Scar Face threw out a hand, holding the doors before he glanced back at you, raising his brows expectantly. Forcing that strained smile back onto your face, you stepped in and muttered a polite ‘thank you’ as you did. 

You were just a naive, stupid little journalist after all. Not a threat. 

Both large men stepped in after you, Scar Face pushing the button for the main floor. The doors soon closed, trapping you in the elevator with the pair of them standing directly in front of you. Blocking any chance of you just bolting out of the elevator when the doors opened. Anxiously, your eyes darted up above their heads, your focus on the numbers quickly descending to the first floor. 

A minute later the doors opened, both men stepping out before you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you continued to silently follow behind Scar Face as he led you out of the main doors of the building. Your eyes instantly landed on the black SUV parked in front of the building, not even remotely surprised that was where Scar Face was leading you. 

He turned when he reached the back door of the SUV, his eyes falling on you. You stopped when you neared him, refraining from flinching when his hand began moving. He ended up outstretching his palm expectantly towards you, your eyes dropping down towards it.

“Mr. Backman is a very private person,” Scar Face told you. “Your phone, please.”

You almost wanted to laugh out loud; of course they were going to take your phone. It was like Kidnapper 101. You knew they were going to.

You made a show of reaching towards your pocket, wanting to be compliant, and then pretending to be shocked that you didn’t actually grab your phone. Your hands even patted both of your pockets a few times, brows furrowing as you glanced down. Behind you, you heard Not Scar Face sigh in annoyance.

“Shit,” you cursed, glancing up at Scar Face. “I think I left it back at the office.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at you for a moment. You continued to keep that puzzled expression on your face as his hand lowered.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if we just double check, will you?” Not Scar Face snapped from behind you.

Before you could respond, you felt a pair of hands patting you down. Fighting back the urge to grimace at his touch, especially as his hands grabbed you in places you knew weren’t necessary, you tried to focus on taking deep, calming breaths. Eventually his hands left you, probably making some gesture to Scar Face because he nodded in front of you before turning and opening the car door. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for you to get into the car. Heart sinking to your feet, you made your way forward and climbed in. Not Scar Face slammed your door shut, opening the passenger door in front of you, though he hesitated as he waited for Scar Face to get into the driver’s side. The moment he did, Not Scar Face hopped in and the doors locked, the sound causing you to flinch.

As the car pulled out onto the street, the hair on the back of your neck rose. You were locked in this car with these two men. You had no way out. You had no idea where you were going. You had no idea if and when Matt was going to get your message or if the police Katy was surely calling would even find you. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the car for either as they drove. Your eyes tried to memorize the route as you'd sat trapped. In the backseat, you had been nervously chewing your thumbnail and trying to come up with some plan of escape, but none were coming to you. And when the car pulled down a few side streets that looked disturbingly empty, you felt a sense of unease really settling over you. 

Eventually the car came to a stop in a vacant parking lot in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Scar Face cut the engine and a dreadful silence fell over the three of you. The doors unlocked a few seconds later, both men getting out of the car. Not Scar Face immediately opened up your door, stepping aside when Scar Face rounded the vehicle and pointed a gun at you. Your back went rigid in the seat instantly, your eyes dropping down to the barrel of it.

“Get out,” he ordered.

Hands fumbling nervously, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid out of the back seat. The cold metal of the gun was instantly at the back of your head, sick churning in your stomach at the feel of it.

“Walk,” he ordered next.

You followed behind Not Scar Face as he headed into the abandoned warehouse. Two other armed men were inside already, greeting your two kidnappers with nods of their heads. Eyes shifting behind them, you noticed a metal table and two metal chairs set up. The barrel of the gun dug into the back of your head, urging you forward.

“Sit,” Scar Face demanded.

Nervously you headed towards one of the chairs, your legs feeling like they were about to give out. You slowly sunk into the metal chair, adrenaline and fear coursing through you. Scar Face lowered into the other chair, resting the gun on the table and training it right on your chest. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“Now,” Scar Face began, the three men standing behind him armed with guns and just as intimidating, “I want you to start talking. What do you know about Daredevil? Who is he?”

Your mouth immediately went dry. “What?” you asked, taken aback.

Scar Face leaned forward along the table, eyes narrowing. “Who is Daredevil? We know he protected you once before from Figureroa’s men. We know he has a soft spot for Bulletin journalists. You clearly know him.”

“I–I have no idea who he is,” you said earnestly. “He showed up out of nowhere that night he saved me. I’ve never seen him since, I swear!”

“I’m not buying that,” Scar Face told you. “Now I know you’ve been looking into Wayland. And I know he’s been causing us quite a bit of trouble lately. Clearly the two of you are working together. And Backman would love nothing more than if we brought him his head."

“No, we’re–we’re not working together!” you pushed, eyes wide. 

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you thought it would give out. You weren't here for an interview with Backman you quickly realized–you were the bait for Matt. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” you urged, panic flooding you knowing Matt would walk in on a trap. "I'm just a journalist!"

“Ugh, come on!” one of the men ground out behind Scar Face. “Just shut her up. We can use her to try to lure that asshole for now. And if he doesn’t show, then we can start with the questions.”

Scar Face’s jaw tightened as he studied you closely. You couldn’t hide the way your body was shaking in the metal chair, especially at the mention of questions–you didn't think they would just be talking to you. Slowly, he lowered the gun to the table, turning and rising up to his feet as he ran his hands over his face. Your eyes immediately dropped down to the loaded gun sitting across the table from you, heart pounding so loud in your own ears you couldn’t hear anything else.

Would it be possible for you to take that gun and try to shoot your way out of here? Was that your way out of this?

________

“Oh man, I could totally use a drink at Josie’s after that,” Foggy complained beside Matt, running a hand over his face. “I mean that witness testimony took four hours!”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, nodding his head. “I’m pretty sure that fried my brain, too, Fog.”

Matt adjusted his briefcase over his shoulder with his free hand, the other holding Foggy’s arm as Foggy led him down the courthouse steps. 

“You want to call your future fiance and see if she wants to come out?” Foggy teased, nudging Matt’s shoulder with his own.

Matt grinned in response, laughing lightly. “I can see if she’s available tonight, yeah,” he agreed.

"Ahh!" Foggy exclaimed loudly, pointing an accusatory finger at Matt. "So you don't deny she may be the future Mrs. Murdock!"

Still laughing lightly and shaking his head, Matt slipped his phone out of his dress pant’s pocket with his free hand. For a moment his finger felt around the edge of the phone before holding down the button to turn it back on. Seconds later he heard the buzz of the device as it kicked back to life.

"Your silence is really saying a lot, man," Foggy pointed out, leading Matt down the sidewalk and back towards the office. 

"Is it?" Matt shot back, shooting Foggy a playful grin.

The vibration and beep of Matt's phone drew his attention back to the device. That notification meant he had a new, unheard voicemail. Brows furrowing, he navigated his phone, pushing the button to bring up his voicemail. He held the phone to his ear as Foggy shot him a curious glance. 

"What's up?" he asked Matt. "You look confused."

"She sent me a voicemail," Matt told him, speaking over the automated voice that was reading off the name that had called and the time the message had been left. "But she knew we had court. She never calls and leaves messages when we do."

"Maybe it was important?" Foggy suggested.

A frown drew across Matt’s mouth the moment the message began to play. There was a nervous breath and a long pause, something you never did when you left messages. You normally began them with your cheerful or hurried tone. Something wasn't right. And his fear was confirmed the moment he heard your scared voice speaking into his ear.

“Matt, uh, I have a very big problem. There’s two men who just showed up at my office. They’re saying Backman sent a car for me for an interview.” 

There was a pause after your words, Matt instantly stopping on the sidewalk at the mention of Backman’s name. Foggy came to a stop, too, shooting Matt a confused look.

"What?" he asked.

But Matt didn't respond, too focused on the sound of your terrified voice.

“I–I don’t think they’re your usual chauffeurs, though. I’m pretty sure one of them has a gun in their suit coat. And I have no idea where they’re going to take me.” 

At the mention of a gun, Matt's hand gripped his phone tighter, his entire body tensing. You were in danger and you'd called for help. You'd called for help two hours ago. And he'd been stuck in court while men with guns had taken you. Anger burned in Matt–a burning white hot rage that was sure to quickly consume him.

“It’s only Katy and I at the office. She’s calling the cops when I’m gone. I–I don’t see any other options here, Matt. I have to go with them.” 

Matt's heart ached at the shaky exhale he heard you make over the message, his jaw tightening. You were terrified and you needed him and he hadn't been there for you. 

“You were right. When guys with guns come after me, I’m not the one who knows how to fight back. You are.”

His heart was thundering in his own ears, almost pounding louder than the sound of your nervous whisper in his ear. 

"I–I have to go before they realize what I’m doing.” There was a brief pause before he heard your voice so quiet one last time. “I love you, Matt.”

Tearing the phone from his ear, he slammed his finger on the button to end the message. Matt ripped his hand from Foggy's arm immediately.

"They took her," Matt snarled, enraged.

"What?" Foggy asked, panic flooding his voice. "Who?"

Matt said your name, his voice breaking on it. "Backman took her."

With a growl Matt tore his briefcase strap from over his head, tossing it roughly at Foggy. He fumbled but managed to catch it.

"Matt, what're you doing?" he asked nervously.

"I'm going to find her," he answered, his tone already darkened by the Devil when he spoke. "And so help me if they hurt her I will tear them apart ."

Spinning on his heel, ignoring Foggy's panicked voice calling after him, Matt darted down an alley. Once out of sight, he clambered up a fire escape towards the roof, racing across Hell's Kitchen towards his apartment for his suit. Spurred on by adrenaline and fear, he leapt from roof to roof without a care for himself, only one thing on his mind–he needed to find you.

[whatisgodtoanonbeliever]

Okay so time to list my thoughts for ep 8

1. I absolutely adored the breakfast scene with Geu Ra Mi just being like "eat it" and Young Woo finding out it's actually good

2. I love when friends call you a broke bitch to your face

3. Obligatory Fuck Kwon Min Woo to cover the whole ep

4. The Hanbada CEO showing up just to say don't lose and throw shade about the bulletin post was something I didn't know I wanted

5. Su Yeon yelling in her place of employment about how Young Woo not being hired was discrimination to start and then also taking blame as well was so good, especially when she saw Min Woo and got louder

6. The town was beautiful in the rain too, no clue what they're talking about

7. NOT THE MATCHING TAESAN UMBRELLAS

8. "Turning the residents against them" was not an angle I expected but should have

9. The little rat race music during the door-to-door scene was beautiful

10. Kang Ki Young will never fail me with comedic characters (this is about the sing along)

11. YOUNG WOO FEINTING SMACKING MIN WOO

12. I'm so glad her dad just told her and got it out there

13. The whole backstory got me feeling conflicted, a couple of things I need to sit with

14. The immediate case breakthrough after her dad just spilled his guts was perfect (along with the phone call being at 3 AM)

15. VIOLIN MAN?! HOW COULD YOU?!

16. Jun Ho bringing up the other night and it turning into a discussion of feelings in the middle of that open space was wild

17. I'm definitely on the fence with what I think will happen/what I want to happen with the Mom storyline, but I liked the confrontation

18. Preview looks like Jun Ho has decided he's free to flirt and sulk openly now and I'm excited to see how dramatic he is about it. And I wish these previews gave us more info about the next case! I'm dying trying to know what's happening with such limited info (you know, as previews are designed to do)!

[notwhelmedyet]

2022 Craft Project Roundup

it’s almost the end of 2022 and I had the thought - why not compile all my projects for the year in one post? It’d be fun (for me). So here we go!!

January - March: Ficbinding of my Taking Care Trilogy

A project I had been dreaming of even while I was writing these fics - I finally made fancy hand-bound copies of my longest fic series ever.

March: Straw Marquetry Panels

Big shoutout to Pipsqueak on the Renegade server who let me know that this shit exists, because it is the perfect intersection of things I like: natural materials, shiny things, geometric shapes, straw!. I discovered that straw marquetry is incredibly fiddly and time consuming and my initial thought of full ceilings or large murals was way overly ambitious. But I still love it, despite all it’s fiddliness

April - June: Various failed experiments with straw dyeing

There is a way to dye straw. It must exist. People sell dyed straw. But despite at least 10 attempts with fiber reactive and RIT dyes with various prep methods, I did not once succeed in getting dye to take to the outer shiny side of the straw. (I intended to make pink straw for the wedding guestbook later in this list)

May: Pieced cubical bulletin board covers

I decided to spice up my cubical a bit with some nice fabric covers over my bulletin boards, after a friend told me it was super easy to remove them & cover them with fabric via tacks. The green fabric I got turned out to be too short 🤦 so I got a jelly roll of rainbow batiks and pieced these funky covers together.

May - June : Pair of dyed historical-inspired tunics

Another project I’ve had in my head for years - using a medieval reenactment tunic tutorial to make my own shirts out of linen. Linen turns out to be fabulous to dye, unlike straw, which is evil. It does wrinkle the moment you look at it, but you just have to be chill with that.

June: First longstitch bookbinding

Inspired by the amazing works of queercore-curriculum I had decided to use a criss-cross longstitch for the wedding guestbook I planned to make for my friend A. This was my initial testbook, which I did on graph paper thinking I could use it as a journal. The graph paper turns out to be very thin and bad for journal writing but the book itself I am quite proud of :)

July: DIY alcohol stove (& knots!)

So in July I went to a natural building/strawbale construction workshop and I was going to need to cook for myself on the first day of camping - hence a brief research binge on alcohol stoves & how to DIY them. This is the simplest possible alcohol stove made out of a cat food can & while youtube will tell you to optimize by making it much more complicated it works fine for boiling water/making fancy curry mashed potatoes.

Also around this time I learned how to do several knots for having up my camping hammock, which isn’t exactly a craft but it’s not knot a craft ;)

July: Part of a house

oh fuck it, the house goes on the list. As part of the aforementioned workshop I (along with about 40 other people) assembled the strawbale walls for a family home. It was by far the most amazing experience I had in 2022. Like adult summer camp with more powertools & while learning skills I hope to someday turn upon a home of my own.

September: Pajama pant spectacular

In September I made two new pajama pants (one of rockin’ flannel and one of a nice purple shot cotton) and also repaired several old pairs (new elastic, added pockets, patched some holes etc). Yes I do patch pockets on pajamas, they’re not fashionable but they’re much more convenient for phone access while cooking.

October: Wedding Guestbook

A guestbook for my friend’s wedding, done in the style of that other longstitch book, but with more fancy things :3

November: Small notebook

Made a small notebook with the offcuts from the wedding guestbook for a friend gift exchange. I was very proud of this one; simple and sweet and finished in a single weekend (it helped that the pages were already deckled to size).

December: Paperboard desk organizer

I keep my downstairs stuff (pens, wallet, keys, etc) in a little basket downstairs so I don’t have to wander the house looking for them and I decided to finally make organizers for it so it wouldn’t be a melange of mess. Used scraps from my bookbinding supplies & they turned out pretty good considering I have 0 box making experience.

December: Tablet weaving/work lanyard

Another craft I’ve wanted to try for years: tablet weaving! I finally thought of an excuse one day at work while contemplating how much I hated my lanyard - it flipped around constantly and the keys made unending clanking noises when I walked. I might make a post on tablet weaving bc I am in love. I need to think of more excuses. It’s so good, so satisfying. It’s like the opposite of straw marquetry in terms of how much I enjoy it in the moment :p