#more x men 4 than first class 2

[vertigoartgore]

2014's X-Men: Days of Future Past turns 10 today. Feel old yet ?

[flowerandblood]

Rage | Revenge | Relief

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, kind of incest but not really, mention of marital infidelity ]

[ description: Aemond thinks his life couldn't get any more fucked up until his mother tells him and his little brother that her partner and his daughter are coming to live with them. He gives them a wide berth until one night when he overhears a conversation between his stepsister and her mother. The power of angst, dark, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

Part 2 − Guilt | Greed | Grace Part 3 − Pride | Promise | Price Part 4 − Blame | Betray | Bliss

Series & Characters Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When his mother decided to divorce his father, he immediately knew who he was going to live with − he had no intention of sitting at home with a man who had paid him no attention all his life. What he didn't suspect at the time was that there was something else behind his parents' separation besides a total lack of affection − or, in fact, someone.

Criston Cole.

When he found out about their affair, when his mother admitted to him that it had been going on for years he didn't speak to her for a month − not because he thought she had no right to really fall in love, but because she was always telling him about the principles of faith in God, the importance of fidelity and virtue.

When he met Alys at one of the parties he went to with his friends from university, when he saw the look she gave him he decided he didn't give a damn − they fucked in the men's bathroom like animals and then went to her place to do the same.

He stayed with her for longer than he had originally intended, not taking calls from his mother.

He eventually returned home; he had his studies to finish, however it was how long he disappeared for that started to worry his mother.

He didn't tell her who he was seeing and why, recognising that he no longer trusted her.

The thought of moving in with Alys occurred to him when one day his mother announced to him and Daeron that Criston and his daughter would be moving into their house − he laughed at her words, shaking his head and said that if they moved in, he would move out, making her burst into tears.

He had the impression that he didn't feel anything anymore.

That he was empty.

Everything seemed strangely funny to him, meaningless.

The day they arrived he sat locked in his room; Alys was sending him naked pictures of herself with messages about what she wanted him to do with her when he came to visit her.

On the one hand it turned him on, on the other it embarrassed him, he wondered how a grown woman could be so desperate.

He was more cautious than her, sending her pictures of his dick didn't thrill him even though she sometimes begged him to do it.

She was just texting him about what position he was going to fuck her first when his mother knocked on his room.

"Aemond. Will you come down to say hello?" She asked softly, hopefully. He pressed his lips together feeling a squeeze in his heart, tapping out a reply to Alys on the keypad of his phone.

Silence.

He heard her give up and go down the stairs.

He felt tears under his eyes, felt rage at the thought that these strangers would now be roaming his house, taking his space, making him uncomfortable even here.

He managed not to see any of them for a few days and felt wonderful about it, going to class first thing in the morning, spending afternoons and evenings with Alys, only coming home late at night.

However, when he came back one time, he saw, putting his keys back on the shelf, that the glass patio door was pushed open.

She noticed a girl similiar to Criston, with his dark hair and big eyes; she was sitting sideways to him on one of the wicker chairs, wearing a thick, light jumper and shorts, her hair loose, as if she was already going to bed.

He saw her nervous gesture, her fingers pressed to her mouth, her eyebrows arched in pain, her whole figure tensed as if someone had just tortured her.

"And what is she like? Have you met her?" He heard the sound echoing from the speaker of her phone, saw her lower her gaze, her lips slightly parted.

"I don't know. She's just normal, Mum. Kind." She mumbled, her voice soft and calm, scared, girlish, young, innocent.

He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop on this, but he just stood and looked at her, unmoving from his spot, standing in the shadows in the corridor.

"Kind? Has she bribed you yet? Is she prettier than me?" The voice on the other end of the receiver was getting more aggressive and frustrated − he saw the girl scowl inwardly, shaking her head, lifting her shoulders up as if she didn't know what to answer.

"She didn't bribe me, she just…I don't know, Mum, I don't know what you want to hear from me, she's just a normal ordinary woman."

"DON'T LIE!"

He saw her cover her face with her hand as she trembled all over; he knew she couldn't take it, he saw tears start to run down her cheeks.

"− I'm not lying mum, I already told you, I moved out with dad for now because it's closer to my university from here, I −"

"You left me. After what he did to me. Was it worth it? For those few miles? To live in the beautiful big house of your favourite daddy's lover?"

"Mum, stop, please." She begged like a small child who asks a parent to stop hitting him already, that she had already understood her lesson, that she would be good now.

He had no idea why he felt a tightness in his throat looking at it, why his heart was pounding like crazy, why he couldn't move or breathe.

"You don't love me anymore. If you loved me you wouldn't have gone with him. You wouldn't have left me. I hope you like your new mum. Good night." She said and suddenly there was the sound of an earphone being hung up.

The girl burst out sobbing, leaning her whole body forward − he had never witnessed anything like it before in his life.

Why is it always the children who have to pay for their parents' mistakes?

He felt he should go upstairs, he felt he should leave her, but instead he moved towards the fridge, opening it. He heard her jump up surprised, only now spotting him through the glass, not knowing what to do, whether she should go or wait for him to leave first.

He, however, pulled out two cold beers and opened them with a loud pop of the cap; he walked outside, placing one in front of her, the other in front of him, sitting down in the chair opposite her, taking a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.

"If you tell my mother I smoke, I will kill you. Do you understand? I'll make your life a living hell." He muttered, lighting his cigarette from the flame of the fire and took a drag, leaning comfortably against the backrest.

She looked at him with her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide open, her cheeks all red − he thought she looked like a pet that children really want to have when they are little, a rabbit or a dog, a faithful companion and friend with big eyes.

She squeezed her eyes shut at his words and shook her head, massaging her forehead with her hand, as if she couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Nice to meet you too. I'm guessing that you are the Nicest of Alicent's sons." She said ironically.

Despite the harshness and mockery in her words, she said them so softly and warmly that he snorted with a grimace of amusement, shaking the ash from his cigarette onto the tiles beneath them with a tap of his finger.

"Yeah, that must be me." He hummed, looking to the side, exhaling the smoke loudly through his nose, reaching for the beer bottle − he took a long, loud sip from it, setting it down with a loud hiss of the baubles inside.

"Your mummy is always so pleasant?" He asked, looking at her curiously, wondering why he was so intent on bringing her out of her shell.

Why he was so cruel.

She, however, looked at him indifferently, unmoved; she smiled at his words lowering her gaze, her cheeks red from tears. She shrugged her shoulders.

"She's had a bit of a change of heart since she discovered my father was fucking your mother in their bed. But you probably wouldn't care. You don't seem like the kind of person who enjoys unnecessary drama. Right?" She muttered, leaning back, taking the cold beer he gave her in her hand and took a sip from it, turning the bottle in her hands.

He squinted his eyelids, wondering what kind of girl she was, what she might have wanted.

He liked being in control of what was going on and he wanted to work her out as soon as possible, to see what she cared about, to have her in his grasp like he had Alys.

"And what do you think about it?" He mused, slipping his cigarette into his mouth and taking a drag with a quiet hiss, not taking his eyes off her.

He saw that she was glancing at his scar, at his fake eye, and he felt frustration.

"I think that's my business." She said softly, spreading herself comfortably in the chair, lifting her knees up so that he could see her pleasantly firm thighs perfectly. "I only confide in friends."

He raised an eyebrow and sneered, taking another deep sip of beer, finding her naivety charming in a way; he figured she was younger than him by about two or three years.

"What conditions do you have to meet to be your friend?" He asked lowly, and she looked at him indulgently, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"You have to not be a cold, sophisticated dick." She said calmly.

He smiled broadly at her words, however the smile did not reach his eyes, wide open, empty and cold.

"I don't think I meet your requirements then. What about fucking? Can you imagine the face of our parents if they found out? Sweet God." He chuckled shaking the ash off his almost-smoked cigarette again with his pointing finger − he saw that she raised an eyebrow in disbelief and laughed lightly, as if he had actually amused her.

"I admire the level of your insolence. I really do. I'm full of appreciation." She said, smiling in a way that made him feel uncomfortable − he sensed that he had drawn from her the opposite reaction to the one he wanted. He licked his lower lip, looking at her intensely.

"If I offered you to come with me to my room, would you go?" He asked teasingly, wanting to pander to her, wanting to dominate her verbally. She cocked her head, a soft smile never leaving her face.

"Why not."

He swallowed loudly glancing down at her thighs, feeling a strong throbbing in his trousers at her words, his cock expressing an overwhelming desire to carry out his plan.

Fuck.

Actually, why not?

He rose dropping his cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with his boot, grabbing a bottle of his beer with his hand, walking back out into the dining room − he heard her get up and move behind him.

They both walked quietly upstairs and headed for his room. He walked in taking a loud sip of his beer, turning over his shoulder to look at her − she came in behind him with her bottle, closing the door quietly, just standing and looking at him in complete darkness.

"So?" She asked quietly, lightly, making him completely hard.

He could fuck her while his mother and her father slept in the next room.

He could cum inside her and then look her father straight in the eye at dinner.

"Take off your jumper." He muttered as he drank his beer to the end, setting the empty bottle down on the ground, pulling his leather jacket off his shoulders.

He watched as she obeyed his command without a word, she had a T-shirt underneath, apparently the top of her pyjamas − he could clearly see the outline of her nipples and breasts through the thin material.

"Come here." He instructed, and she approached him slowly, looking at him with those warm, soft eyes of hers; he took the beer from her and set it down on the nightstand by his bed, then glanced up at her.

"I'm not kidding. If you don't leave now, we're gonna fuck." He said dryly, and she blinked, looking at him without a shadow of surprise.

Seriously?

He chuckled seeing that she hadn't moved from her spot, reaching a hand to his belt buckle, undoing it.

"Get undressed."

He stared at her with wide eyes as she pulled her T-shirt over her head, her lovely breasts firm, looking like those of the busts of Aphrodite created by ancient sculptors.

"Not your first time, is it?" He murmured, pulling off his tight black blouse. She shook her head − he could see she was breathing a little faster at the sight of his bare chest.

"Does your daddy know about this?" He asked amused, and she shook her head quickly, looking at him horrified.

"Are you going to tell him about it?" She asked startled, and he chuckled under his breath, pulling her close in a confident motion.

"Please. I suspect you don't do fucked up stuff like me anyway, kid. My mother would be very disappointed in me if she found out, you know?" He hummed and lifted her by her hips, laying her on her back on his bed, kneeling over her.

They both looked at each other and giggled as if they were doing something joyful − he couldn't believe how turned on he was, how much his heart was pounding.

"You know they'll fucking kill us if they find out?" He asked in a trembling voice as if he wanted to make sure she knew what she was doing. She nodded, her eyes were shining.

He thought they both wanted revenge on them.

And even though it was childish, he felt a kind of affection and tenderness for her.

He thought she understood him, that he would make her feel good.

"Such a good girl. Your dad raised you well. But your big brother will teach you better." He gasped, panting along with her, slipping off his trousers and boxers. She looked at him intently, squirming beneath him, her cheeks red, her eyes big and trusting, her lips parted, plump and shiny.

She looked at him as if she had known him for years.

As if they were doing it together for the hundredth time.

With a sure, light movement he slid her shorts and panties off her thighs − they were left completely naked in front of each other, and for some reason feeling no shame, she reached out to him. He leaned over her and let her embrace his neck.

He brushed her lips with his, at first just to try how she tasted, and then he sink deeper into them, pleasantly full and moist. He slid his tongue down her throat with her loud purr, in his other hand taking his cock, jerking it a few times in his palm, the tip of it glistening and pink, sticky from his precum.

"− will you be a good girl for your big brother? hm? −" He murmured into her mouth and she nodded, panting as he did, her thighs parted in front of him in a surprising gesture of trust.

He slid his hand between her legs to check her condition and smirked feeling it was as he suspected, his fingers spreading her wetness all over her hot womanhood, teasing her clit with calm strokes, making her body shudder, her lips parted in silent, innocent moans.

"− I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already leaking? − I'm beginning to wish I'd introduced myself to you sooner −" He gasped, rubbing her with sure, circular motions, her hips coming up against him, looking for any source of friction.

He groaned low, surprised, when her small, soft hand caught his length and with a calm, sure movements began to squeeze it, massaging it up and down, feeling it throb hard in her grasp.

"− your loss, big brother −" She whispered sweetly, looking at him with such an innocent smile that he felt like laughing and telling her how adorable she was.

"− true − don't worry, we'll make up for our lost time now − hm? − we'll get to know each other better −" He purred delightedly, running the tip of his nose over her cheek, breathing faster and faster, licking his lips, their hips seeking fulfilment in the touch of their hands, their lips beginning to rub against each other again, wet and sticky, not giving each other full kisses.

"− with or without a condom? −" He whispered, running his tongue over her upper lip, and she sighed softly, writhing beneath him, his fingers teasing her slick folds with increasingly determined movements, his palm all wet with her moisture.

"− without − 'm taking pills −" She gasped with some sort of pride, her free hand combed through his short hair; he smirked under his breath, taking his hand from between her thighs.

"− good girl − spread your thighs wide − yes, just like that −" He hummed, and she let go of him immediately knowing what he wanted to do, her hands on his back and neck, stroking him in some kind of excitement and anticipation.

He directed the fat head of his cock at her entrance looking down at her, pushing against her slit, her lips parted wide when she felt it.

"− last chance − yes or no, kid? −" He exhaled and she tightened her fingers on his back.

"− yes −"

He had to kiss her to silence the loud sounds that ripped from their throats as he slid into her with one sure, sharp thrust − he began to move inside her immediately, unable to stop himself, the frame of his bed began to creak beneath them with each push of his hips.

They kissed loudly and quickly with a sticky, wet click, their bodies slapping against each other again and again, her naked breasts pressed against his chest.

He wasn't sure he'd ever let Alys embrace him so tightly, feeling him with her whole body, but she was different − he could feel the need in her fingers, she wanted him to be close and he wasn't going to deny her that.

"− look at you − so good to your big brother, hm? − so well prepared to greet him −" He panted into her mouth feeling her insides clench on him greedily at his words, intensifying his sensations, making him lose control completely, his hands clamped down on her soft, hot body smelling of pleasant, girly shampoo and shower gel.

"− you're so big −" She mumbled with some kind of awe and delight, their tongues licking and teasing as his cock with each thrust rubbed against the spot on her upper wall from which her body shuddered.

"− here? − when I fuck you here it feels good? −" He exhaled and she nodded quickly, moaning louder and louder into his mouth, her walls throbbing hard on the verge of orgasm, their naked bodies bumping against each other fast with a loud slaps.

"− yes − please −" She mewled, panting and quivering beneath him, he stifled her sounds and his own low moans with kisses, speeding up his pace, feeling that he was about to come probably harder than he had ever done before in his life.

"− quiet − do you want your daddy to look in here? − to see me taking care of his little girl? −" He hissed and she tilted her head back; he had to cover her mouth with his hand as she began to moan loudly while the orgasm shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him greedily, sucking him inside.

He only managed to make a few desperate thrusts with his hips to prolong their pleasure before he cum inside her, panting loudly, clenching his eyes, feeling such incredible relief that he felt like he was about to pass out.

"− fuck −" He gasped, collapsing on top of her − his hips rocked inside her for a moment longer with her innocent purr of satisfaction.

They both breathed loudly in an attempt to calm themselves, lying with their eyes closed, feeling that, along with the pleasure, their bodies had left the rage, grief and disappointment.

He felt her look at him and he opened his eyes, thinking she was about to cry, about to say that this was one big mistake, but she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"− God − we're insane −" She whispered with amusement, her eyes shining − he had no idea why he was smiling too, why he felt so damn good, why he felt such immense satisfaction.

"− yeah − that's correct −" He muttered lowly, feeling the fatigue and relaxation slowly overpower his body. He hummed when he felt her hand begin to stroke his hair wordlessly in a soft, light movement, with a kind of tenderness he had completely not expected.

He didn't know himself what he thought of that; he had never allowed himself to be touched like that by Alys saying he wasn't her pet, however there was something different about her touch.

Some kind of genuine concern from which he felt a tightness in his throat.

"This will be our little secret?" She asked quietly, running her fingers through his hair, down his neck and across his cheek. He murmured under his breath and lazily brushed her hand with his lips.

"Yes."

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[ask-maxie-boy]

Goonion's Ghoul (Part 3) [dp x dc]

(A/N we switching the official name of the goonion to The First Universal Henchmans' Union. Just makes sense, thank y'all for the advice)

(Parts 1 & 2: here) (Part 4: here)

"Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify a few things. Mainly, can I ask for your preferred name?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Well, I figured it would professional to come out and call you Mr. Cobblepot, but seeing as we're talking about a... certain aspect of your enterprises, I wasn't sure you wanted your legal name in the records. The Union takes confidentiality very seriously."

Oswald Cobblepot looked down at the scrawny boy in front of him. This was the guy that had Eddie shaking in his boots? He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as you remember who you're talking to before you open your mouth."

"Of course! As you wish, Mr. Penguin."

There it was. That smile just a bit too wide, just like Riddler had said. Oswald Cobblepot wasn't an amateur, he wouldn't let something like that throw him off balance. "Alright, kid, lets cut to the chase. Whats this all about a Union?"

"Oh, Mr. Penguin, I had thought you heard! The First Universal Henchmans' Union is a recently formed collective of working class freelance goons, henchmen, and grunts of all different colors."

"Hweh! And what do I care if a bunch of simpletons wanna have a party together?"

The kid's head tilted, a sickening crack! ringing through the room. Just for a second, its eyes seemed to glow.

When you deal with bats for so long, little things like that don't sway you.

"If they're so little to you in your mind, then surely anything they might ask of you shouldn't be that hard to swallow?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as the thing's face tried to imitate inquisitiveness.

Good. The Penguin likes it cold.

"You can toss away the whole intimidation shtick, boy. I didn't get to be where I was by bending over to every ignoramus who thinks they can get me to do what they want."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you start to pay more attention to little expressions. The way the shadows suddenly fall onto the boy's blue-eyed, black haired face as he tilts his head downward makes The Penguin's flinch, just for a moment.

"I promise you sir, the Goonion is a very real, and very serious organization."

Cobblepot sneers, cigarette holder angling upward, as he taps his umbrella on the ground. "I pay my people well. My lounge is up to code, too. You don't have a damn thing on me, and here you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Well listen here, boy, you don't run an operation like this in Gotham without knowing fear. Fear is watching every shadow, looking for the pin pricks of light. Fear is the cracking of bones in the room over as you know the jig's up. Fear is watching Gotham's shadow spawn appear from the darkness, promising the only thing he wont do is kill you. You're way out of your league if you think I'll bend to such a cheap trick."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you learn to keep your eyes open. You keep track of exits, you look for little disturbances, keep your ears ready for even the softest sound.

You pay attention to that little voice that says you're being watched.

"Mr Penguin, do I need to remind you just who these 'simpletons' are? They're the men who carry your goods to and from your lounge. They're the ones who rig up the Riddler's bombs, traffic weapons in and out of the city. What happens when deals go south, when plans are canceled partway though?"

When you deal with Bats for so long, you watch the shadows. They practically live in them, entering and exiting like they're made from the stuff. Anything that might give away their position.

The shadows are dancing. Pulsing with something even darker than Gotham. He swears he can hear the sound of a bat gently hitting someone's hand. Distant laughter, not natural, almost forced.

"You know, Mr. Penguin, The Joker is easily one of our worst offenders. One of his more interesting complaints is the lack of security in regards to chemicals. See, he doesn't really care much if there's missing inventory, or what happens after his plan, as long as there's enough for what he needs." A vial flutters between its fingers, eyes almost bored as a forked tongue slides between sharpened teeth. "I wonder, where does it all go?

Eyes, green as emerald and as bright as the sun burn into Ozwald's. A grin stretches wider, wider, quite literally from one ear to the next filled with jagged teeth. "Do you want to find out?"

...~☆~...

"...My... smoking habits."

"Yeah, honestly. Its like you said. Most of your stuff is up to board, and your workers are fairly happy. Its mainly just an issue for henches with asthma, though secondhand smoke isn't something most people enjoy."

"You did all that over my cigarettes?!"

"its fairly understood that the Iceberg Lounge is not a smoke-free area, so you can do as you please there, but when it comes to abandoned warehouses or other places of business, we ask you please refrain from smoking."

"I can't believe this."

"For what its worth, the goons understand its part of your whole outfit, and are willing to compromise. We have a list of alternatives that visibly resemble a lit cigarette, and will fit in your holder, but wont actually release any smoke..."

@akikkobara @thegatorsgoose @addie-lover-of-stories @apointlessbox @screamingtofillthevoid @semiprofessionaldumbass @sailor-goddess @malice-of-the-sunrise @savaton @spikedlynx @emergentpanda-blog @starlightcat04

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Victor

(Chapter 5 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader, Smoker x Reader is in the past, Doflamingo x Tsuru (platonic)

Chapter Warnings: foreplay without payoff, references to more physical abuse to reader, alcohol abuse

Chapter Synopsis: After the confrontation over you between Doflamingo and Aokiji in Sabaody, both men are now left dealing with those resulting emotions in their own ways. And you still find yourself caught in the middle, the three of you all having to find the next way forward.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5, 6

————————————

———————————— 

This morning had been more than rough. You should have given into the nausea of last night and puked these toxins into the bushes. Instead of trying to be so tough to hold it in. Because what did dignity matter when you still felt this awful?

You’d been a little confused on your way to the gym too as you’d seen Kuzan walking the opposite way in the rain. Towards the harbor actually with an awfully serious look about him and his umbrella open above his head.

He hadn’t even seen you, you were sure. But you’d been in a crowd of other sailors. Vergo had volunteered you to give assistance in some basic haki training happening this morning.

And said class was thankfully being held inside the gym, in comparison to the poor luck of the muddy recruits now running past you all in the yard. You could hear Akainu’s whistle and yell towards them even now over the distant thunder.

“Too slow! Double time it you slugs!” He was screaming.

Oh, you did not miss that part of the rookie days.

The haki class itself had been pretty uneventful at first too. Not very many students, just those who had shown any aptitude at all and had been recommended to keep training by their commanding officers.

Of course Vice Admiral Vergo was well known for his advanced level of armament, so he’d been a guest teacher for today while still in Marineford. And for the entire morning you were only moving through the group as his assistant, giving pointers here or there where you could to the other marines to help improve their form.

If you hadn’t felt like such utter shit, you would have gladly asked Vergo to spar with you by the time lunch break came too. You knew he was above your level, but that was the only real way to learn and push past your own limits sometimes. You’d hoped you’d get another chance before he left to head back to G-5 base at least.

But you’d been sitting on the gym floor with your legs criss crossed, headache still going strong despite your best efforts to rehydrate as you ate the meager rations they’d brought in from the mess hall for lunch. It was too inefficient for the class to cross campus all the way there and come back. So the kitchen workers had just brought you all some sandwiches to get by on before training would start again.

And you were eating your sandwich and thinking about nothing at all. A rare privilege really, when suddenly you felt like you were being completely stared through.

Someone else’s haki had focused on you? You were still pretty bad at being able to know the difference. But your muscles did tense a little as you glanced up slightly.

And as your head turned, you realized Vergo had walked to the edge of the room and was now on the phone with someone. Holding a small receiver in his hand, so the voice on the other end could not be heard.

Vergo’s sunglasses always hid his eyes, much like someone else you knew. But you took another bite of your sandwich as you pretended to brush crumbs off your shirt instead of looking at him directly.

It was so stupid, but you were trying to seem completely unbothered as you could barely hear the Vice Admiral’s voice over the other chatting sailors. But this classroom was not that big. Just open floor with exercise mats and mirrors, nothing to really absorb sound well. And why did you even care?

“No. She’s been here with us all morning.” He said.

Okay, that was a bit more interesting as you tried to remember how many females there were in the room then. Maybe only another two or three? Yes, it was actually only two others. You saw them now, off in another corner together. Not at all where he was looking.

He was absolutely looking at you. 

And you were watching a seam on the side of your boot by then, wondering why your heart rate kept increasing. You really strained your ears to listen further.

——————————

Doflamingo’s grip on the other end of that phone was incredibly tight. Enough to push some of the blood from his knuckles. But he did not break the snail’s receiver the way he’d done to the pen earlier. His voice was still low through his gritted teeth as he continued, “That piece of shit had the gall to come after me in my own house, Vergo.”

It was inexcusable of course. And even now the mansion staff were still trying to shovel the chunks of ice away floors below him. Doflamingo had shredded that frozen wall in a hateful fit not long after Aokiji’s departure of course.

The warlord had then immediately stormed upstairs as well. His mind forgot nothing, and he’d still recalled your number perfectly from before as he’d dialed it again then.

And he’d been pacing in his office, one fist clenching and unclenching, blood vessels pulsing on his forehead as the snail had only rang and rang.

He didn’t know what you had done to rile the admiral so thoroughly. But he was certain that you’d had some culpability in it all. Because you were just that infuriating.

It was fine if you had shown Aokiji what couldn’t be had. Doflamingo had even encouraged this, just as he’d given you permission to go out with the other man at all last night.

It would have been no different than when he’d paraded your body in front of Disco at the auction house. Because the obvious focus still should have been on the “could not have” aspect of it. 

But the admiral that he’d nearly just traded what surely would have been debilitating blows with, had not arrived here on just the thought of you alone.

No, that was the resolve of a man fighting for you. You had done something to make Aokiji feel as if you were still his to be defended. Doflamingo could see this no other way.

And even as he’d finally hung up that unanswered call to you, to ring Vergo instead, the memories from yesterday had still been so vivid as well.

Because you’d told him that you wanted him then. You’d told him that it was him alone that you thought of when you opened your legs at night. And he had believed you.

All this frustration for one goddamned bitch.

But Vergo was loyal at least, fully dependable in contrast to you as the vice admiral had answered right away. Vergo’s own snail was encrypted of course, fully safe while Doflamingo still paced and vented freely as soon as the other man was there to listen. 

Yet Vergo assured him that you’d been in sight all morning. That you were there right now in fact at some asinine marine class. If you’d put Aokiji up to this today, that conversation had to have taken place elsewhere.

But still Doflamingo wanted more. His current feelings couldn’t be sated with words alone. He needed to know that some sort of punishment would be carried out. Retribution for this pain in his chest that he couldn’t expel.

He hated you for it. The same way that he’d hated you as his finger tips had smeared through your tears in Disco’s office. Your wounded silence taking away all his pleasure as you’d broken too easily before him then.

“So what did you say, haki class was it?” Doflamingo grumbled in renewed question, trying to shake that mental image of you and your tears again. His hand was now running back through his hair. 

Fuck you and this feeling. No one could be allowed to humiliate him this way. So you needed to feel it in exchange, but even harder of course.

“Yes, training in armament.” The vice admiral replied.

“Then put on a lesson for me, Vergo. A decisive one.” But even through his cruel sneer, the warlord still found himself placing extra rules that he normally wouldn’t have. It was maddening.

“But not too far…I just want her to feel this. Go for the sternum, the ribs maybe. At least once hard enough to bring her down to her knees. The rest you can leave to me for later. I’m not done with her yet.” 

“I understand.” Vergo simply agreed in his usual flat tone, no judgment at all towards those heightened emotions still radiating from his master. “I’m sorry you had to experience this. I’ll take care of it.” He did add dutifully as well.

“Thank you, Vergo.” Doflamingo answered with another exhale. Finally sitting back down then at his desk, though still feeling no better for it. 

Yes, he also knew that in a way, this was exactly what he’d asked for. He had wanted to know the extent to which Aokiji may be a future problem. But in his mind, it’d been more him trying to gauge your lingering feelings for the admiral. Not the other way around.

He had truly underestimated your own hold on that man. Doflamingo had underestimated you.

A mistake he would not make twice.

——————————— 

“She what?” The incredulous, yet fully serious voice came as the large transponder snail on Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s desk now glowered into the room.

“I told you to tell her at the end of the meeting, not the beginning, if you were going to tell her at all.” Vice Admiral Garp chuckled at the predictable response, his big fist full of another round of potato chips before he shoved them into his mouth from the bag.

Sengoku scowled at the loud crunching sounds that followed. Garp sitting across from him in the office and generating a mess of crumbs. It was only the two of them here, plus the now angry female on the phone as Tsuru continued over the snail’s speaker.

“And you were just going to let me find all this out myself weren’t you?”

“The reception in Lyra is terrible, Tsuru-chan.” Sengoku tried. She was still stationed abroad. And even the high powered snails here at HQ had trouble reaching those distant mountainous islands like the one she was now on. “There was no point in-“

“Who brought her to the infirmary?” She cut him off again.

“Kizaru.” Garp answered, just speaking as he still loudly chewed. “Just an excuse to get back out of the damned rain I’m sure. The man bitches about it every time.”

“He’s also a terrible gossip. So this will be everywhere already then.” Tsuru sighed, the irritation from her still palpable.

“I mean, it is pretty goddamned funny.” Garp responded, knowing when he was likely pushing her too far. But he didn’t exactly care either. He feared no one. “Akainu about blew a gasket. If he didn’t want to be puked on, probably should have moved a little faster!”

“It was just his boots.” Sengoku clarified before Tsuru could react further. The fleet admiral was regretting letting Garp in here at all by this point.

This had been a previously scheduled meeting for an update on the rebellion in Lyra that Tsuru was currently addressing. But with everything that had recently happened with her own subordinate, Sengoku knew that Tsuru would want to know.

Firstly, the whole mess in Sabaody yesterday that you had been involved in. Tsuru hadn’t liked that at all of course considering which warlord was present for it. And now, just today some training incident that had gone off the rails. It was still confusing as to why it had escalated that quickly. But Sengoku was leaving this solely to Tsuru if she felt there needed to be any followup on it.

All Sengoku knew at this point was that Vice Admiral Vergo, visiting from base G-5, had moved his haki class outside to the yard to have more room for sparring exercises.

But somehow you and Vergo had taken things above and beyond everyone else. Blame, fairly or not, was also being put more heavily on you for choosing not to tap out when faced with a higher level opponent.

And at some point you’d been hit hard enough to land where two of the admirals were still supervising rookie drills. And you’d thrown up on Akainu’s boots, forcing Kizaru to talk the literal hothead back down while whisking you off to the infirmary.

The only thing Sengoku had heard since then was that you likely had some cracked ribs and a possible concussion. Luckily only that, but the fact that for two days in a row now you’d become the center of some utter fiasco was still worrying.

At least worrying to himself and Tsuru anyway. Garp seemed to find it entirely entertaining.

“She’s just a kid.” The more amused Vice Admiral replied. “You know we did the same shit back in our day.”

“Speak for yourself.” Tsuru grumbled, her impatience with him evident as usual. But she had grown up through the ranks with these two men, and she could also speak freely with them as she worried aloud.

“It’s not either incident alone which is the worst of course.” Her tone was changing the more she thought too. She sounded more troubled now. “The day I left her in Mariejois, I had concerns. And after that day I could tell that something was wrong. I thought it was that stupid boy Smoker. If it was, then you’d be right for once, Garp. Just children figuring things out.”

She sighed again. “But then you tell me he is involved with the auction house now. And that the day after dealing with him alone there, she’s now acting out enough to pick fights with Vice Admirals?” 

“You think it’s related?” Sengoku asked her.

“If Doflamingo upset or humiliated her, then yes. Her risk management falters quickly in those circumstances. She’d fight to her last breath to regain some sense of control or power in times like that. It’s a stress response for her.”

“But by the reports we have, there was no physical altercation between Doflamingo and your captain in Sabaody.” Sengoku offered.

Tsuru made a doubtful sound on the other end of the line.

“I don’t know why you still let that pink shitbird get under your skin so much, Tsuru-chan.” Garp grunted at that.

“He’s not a rookie pirate anymore. And his influence is only growing now that he’s a warlord too. I’ve learned the hard way never to discount him.” Was Tsuru’s rather cold response. “I’ll deal with it though. But please keep an eye on her for me in the meantime. It may be time to ship her back my way. I didn’t expect to be away from HQ this long. Base life doesn’t suit her very well regardless. She needs to get back out in the field.”

“Setting sail and bashing some pirates’ heads together is always the best medicine for all ailments.” Garp could at least agree somewhat to that.

“We’ll look at who has ships heading towards you next and let you know.” Sengoku replied, though fully realizing this would likely not be the last time he’d be hearing your name in relation to all this now.

They were getting too old for these new generation dramas.

—————————— 

You were essentially trapped now. The nurse on duty had threatened you with strong sedatives if you refused to stay in this bed at least another hour.

Their excuse was the need to continue monitoring you for signs of head injury. But if it was a concussion, you’d had stronger ones. Vergo’s fist had left you briefly seeing stars for sure, yet you hadn’t fully blacked out.

It was only that strike just below your chest that had done you in. Partially off center, and into ribs that Doflamingo had already weakened with his tantrum of yesterday. 

Even with your own armament up at the time, it was like Vergo had pushed energy straight through that barrier. Stronger than a bullet as he’d knocked you from the sparring area to win with an immediate out of bounds call.

Anyone else in your shoes would have tapped out long before then of course. But you just couldn’t. The more he’d hit you, the stronger you’d hit back. The more pissed off you’d been.

But it was still too much. And certainly too much for today as you’d been on your knees in the mud before you’d really known what had happened. Finally losing your lunch right onto those boots then in front of you as Akainu didn’t back away quickly enough.

Of course it was not in that admiral’s nature to move for anyone though. So why would he have? But he didn’t expect that resulting vomit as you’d coughed and struggled to breathe after Vergo’s last incredible strike.

Akainu had never liked you at all either. And for a moment you had felt the mud heating up dangerously below you as his temper had flared. 

Kizaru had grabbed you by the back of your shirt to get you out of the way then. Like picking up a stunned kitten really. An embarrassment in its own way as he’d also then volunteered to drag you to the infirmary against your will. 

And now you both remained here. You laying in one of the infirmary beds, watching the timer the nurse had set, and Kizaru sitting languidly in the chair next to said bed. One of his long legs crossed over the other as he seemed he truly had nowhere better to be.

“You don’t have to stay.” You said for probably the third time now. 

Kizaru’s arms were crossed over his chest, just perfectly unbothered in that almost annoying way of his. “It’s still raining. I’m fine here.”

Why they only ever called Aokiji the lazy one, you weren’t fully sure.

Maybe if he’d stayed quiet it wouldn’t have been so bad. But Kizaru couldn’t do that either.

“So…” His voice started up yet again. “This is what, three for three now of Captain (Y/N) related incidents? And the last two nearly within twenty four hours. You’re starting to outdo yourself.”

You really couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or just noting this as interesting enough to comment on. But either way you didn’t like it.

“Well, are you going to write me up for something?” You asked flatly, not knowing what he expected you to do about any of this now. You were well aware that people were still talking about your dust up with Smoker in Mariejois. And of course the auction house yesterday, and now it would be about you, Vergo, and Akainu’s vomit boots today.

Troublemaker was another moniker of yours you often heard in not so quiet whispers. 

But Kizaru’s demeanor never really changed at your attitude. He just answered you with a question of his own. “If Aokiji never reprimands you, then what right do I have to discipline you either?”

Your eyebrows raised a little as Kizaru turned his head to make eye contact with you through those transparent sunglasses before he kept on.

“I don’t know what Aokiji’s dragging his feet for though. You always get him flustered. It’d just be the sensible thing for him to go ahead and admit it right?”

How your body could still have had the energy for that flush of heat to go immediately to your face when you’d just been pounded into the mud not long ago was a feat in its own right. But you didn’t hesitate much.

“Aokiji and I are just friends.” You said with the plainness of someone repeating a legal statement.

“Uh huh,” Kizaru answered, tilting his head a little as if working out a stiffness in his neck brought on by the cheap infirmary chair. “And water isn’t wet.”

———————————

Hours later you’d finally been alone in your room again. The sun had long since set and you were hurting all over as the remnants of mud darkened your shower drain. 

When that was done, you refused to even look in the mirror as you dried off. Your body was a battlefield by this point. Even you weren’t sure which bruise was from who anymore. Unless they truly looked like Doflamingo’s bites or sucks, it was anyone’s guess.

Karma wasn’t something you really believed in. Because you’d seen too many good people suffer and too many bad people win. But if you had done something to truly merit this, you could still only wonder what that would have been. 

Especially when an abrupt knock came at your door.

What in the fuck now? Was your first tired thought as you dropped your towel to grab a robe instead. You did tighten it well and pull the collar high before you went to the door.

There were no peep holes in these doors. Something that wouldn’t normally matter as you cracked the door just slightly, expecting one of your female neighbors at most.

But your breath caught in your chest as you saw that familiar admiral coat at your eye level instead.

And Kuzan said nothing, just looking down at you as you opened the door wider in surprise.

Yet you could smell alcohol again as you heard girls laughing in the distance. They were just entering the barracks from the outside. They’d be coming around the corner into your corridor shortly. They’d see him at your door, and you only in your bathrobe.

So you grabbed that stupid man by his marine tie, jerking him towards you as he did not resist. The door slammed shut as he disappeared into your room. Those girls not even noticing the sound over their own voices before they entered the hallway.

“What the hell are you doing!?” You fussed up at him. You’d already had to argue with Kizaru of all people earlier, likely the biggest gossip on base about these very kinds of things.

And Kuzan was just going to show up unannounced to make this all even harder? 

But he was just staring at you for that moment. He actually looked sad, sincerely so. In a way that had your anger melting away as his dark eyes stayed focused on you.

“Kuzan?” You asked him, more concerned then.

“I’m sorry.” His words finally came. He looked distracted, bothered. It was different things all at once. 

He moved away from you too, going to sit on the edge of your bed as the closest thing to take his weight off of his feet.

“You’ve been drinking.” You stated the obvious. It was much worse than he’d been last night. But you’d seen this before. You knew what it meant.

“What happened?” You asked him carefully, fearing the worst.

He was still watching you. That heavy look, his legs were spread. “I just…I just want you.” But he was almost fighting himself. Changing the meaning with just a few additional words. “I…want you to be okay.”

“You’re drunk.” You tried again, still not understanding at all where this could be coming from. “You can sleep it off here if you need to.” You would still protect him of course.

It wasn’t just about you. You did care about Kuzan’s reputation as well. He’d had his struggles with alcohol as most knew, but normally only when really triggered. He’d be sober by morning and no one would be the wiser. You could sneak him back out of here. It would be fine.

“(Y/N).” He just sounded more insistent.

You watched him carefully. That chilled vapor was coming from his mouth then. He needed to control himself. Your anxiety did increase as the room’s temperature continued to drop.

“Kuzan, you need to rest. Lay down.” You tried to sound more forceful as the chill bumps started across your skin.

“I can’t…because I can’t help you if you keep lying to me.” His eyes were so sharp, even if his voice was not.

And at this you did feel that first real tinge of fear. 

He stood again not long after. And when he did, you saw those ice crystals sparkling across your bedsheets from where his hands had been.

But you stood your ground as his long legs crossed the distance between you so easily. 

This man would never hurt you. Not on purpose. You knew this even as your own breath started to turn to vapor as he came to stand in front of you once more.

And his arm moved around your waist then. The other onto your shoulder. He was steadying himself. But it was so cold. It was as if that touch went straight through the thin robe direct to your skin as he said these new words.

“Doflamingo…what is he to you?”

The world stopped.

Maybe your heartbeat with it. Your legs felt numb. His grip was on you harder. He was the one holding you up now instead.

But you couldn’t make a sound. There was ice on your lips. Even before his own soft mouth had covered yours.

You didn’t even know if you were letting him, or if you really couldn’t move any longer. The taste was so familiar, but masked with the alcohol. That intense cold like drinking him into yourself as you felt the pain beginning in your lungs.

Ice crystals were forming inside your airway as you finally raised your hand enough to grip the side of his face. You dug your fingernails in.

It wouldn’t hurt him, his cheek was more ice than skin now. But he did feel it. 

As soon as his lips parted from yours just that slightest bit, you forced that frigid air back out enough to speak.

“Let me breathe.” But even as you said so, you hadn’t moved away from him at all.

And he understood. Not apologizing yet, but you could feel the ice beginning to withdraw. He was reigning himself back in just enough even as his face remained pressed against yours.

He did let you breathe as requested then. Your body heat reclaiming your lungs bit by bit as you felt his hand wandering up from your waist. He rubbed your back to assist in the gentle thaw as his power continued to recede.

But you still had to answer him. Even as numb and fearful as you still were. Did Kuzan think you were a traitor? Would he hate you? You had no idea how he knew about Doflamingo yet, and maybe even more importantly what he knew.

“We’ve had interactions.” You tried to start. The cold still stung your throat. “But it’s all new...”

Kuzan made a sound. He had lifted his head enough to look down into your eyes again. “So it’s true?”

His voice was different then. And you didn’t like that harshness. You wanted the softer man back from out of all this ice. “My loyalty is to my friends, to my crew, Kuzan. That won’t change.” You promised, but it sounded more like begging. “I’m a marine.” You said, as much trying to comfort yourself as him in this moment. 

“He’s a devil…he really is.” He said. “Why…why would you let him…did you let him?” And it was clear that Kuzan was still so unsure of which answer would be worse.

To live with the knowledge that Doflamingo had taken you against your will, or the equal torture in the realization that you may have actually wanted the madman to do it.

Was this the debate that had plagued Kuzan today as he’d poisoned himself with drink until he could stagger to your door? But still, why? How did he find out?

“It’s a bit of both.” You finally answered, unable to lie any further when faced with this weakened king right before you. Because he was a king to you. Kuzan commanded more respect with his selflessness than the Heavenly Demon ever could through cruelty.

But that logic didn’t make you immune to Doflamingo’s flames and that growing desire for him either. Far from it. It was as if the two of them combined could have made the perfect man for you. Fire and ice.

And what a selfishly deranged thought to think though. Especially when faced with the true pain that your indecisiveness between them could cause.

You didn’t give Kuzan time to reply. You didn’t want him hurting any longer. You resolved yourself to relieve this as much you could for him in this moment. At the very least you could do that as some form of atonement for whatever he’d suffered through today.

You’d had no idea he was still holding onto these kinds of feelings. But maybe so were you. Because this vulnerability was still something that Doflamingo couldn’t fully give you.

If the warlord even had a side like this. If he really did, wouldn’t he have just cut it out as a weakness long ago?

Kuzan had not forsaken any such faults though. You knew he hadn’t in the way his knees weakened as soon as you’d started kissing him again.

He wouldn’t stop you either. He didn’t want to stop as the two of you moved together to fall back onto your bed.

It felt so old and so new all at the same time. You knew just how to undo his tie. Your fingers remembered every button in his vest and his shirt. All those prestigious layers of that marine uniform cast to the floor one after another.

He wasn’t sobering up by any means, but he was more focused then. Wanting something too and controlling the ice so much better now, letting your hands move freely across him as you finally reached bare skin.

His broad chest, breathing for you as you kissed across it. But that milder cold still remained, assisting you even as it now dulled all the aches and pains across your own body. Your bruises, your cracked ribs, all these things that were meaningless to you in this moment.

When your hands ran down his flat abdomen to his belt, you did glance briefly back up to him. You saw that briefest hesitation in his eyes, but then he nodded.

You had his permission to go further. And you didn’t waste it, unbuckling the belt to open it, along with the button and zipper of his white pants soon after.

When it was all loose, he raised his hips to help you in sliding them off. His shoes had already come off sometime at the beginning. Socks now joining them with his pants on your floor.

He was just in his boxer briefs then. Not the instant nudity of Doflamingo who seemed to like nothing between his cock and the open air but those ever tight capris pants.  

You couldn’t help but keep contrasting the two men even then as you gently started to massage Kuzan through his boxers. 

But were you taking advantage of the weakened admiral in the same way that Doflamingo would so gladly have done to you now? And how could his hold already be this strong for you to even be thinking these things? The warlord was still in your bed in your own mind even as another man now laid down into it.

“It’s been a while,” Kuzan breathed out as you felt him beginning to tighten beneath your touch.

And at first you thought he meant since the last time you and he had actually been together like this. Because yes, that’d be years ago now.

But something in the needful way he still looked at you made you second guess that. Did he mean the last time since he’d been intimate with anyone at all?

“How long, Kuzan?” You asked gently then, realizing he may have neglected himself entirely. Which was completely unnecessary. Kuzan could have about any woman on this base if he actually tried. And he could be a complete flirt when he wanted to be. 

“Almost five months.” He admitted honestly. “A girl at a bar. I didn’t know she was just trying to get back at her boyfriend though.”

“Ouch,” you said affectionately before admitting your own previous record. “Smoker made me wait three months then dumped me.” You half smiled. 

It was something how quickly you could both tell each other almost anything again. Just like it used to be as you fell back into those old rhythms. But there was still that massive shadow hanging over you both. And he hadn’t forgotten it either.

“Did you and Doflamingo…” Kuzan started, even as his abdomen tensed, he was hard beneath those boxers now.

And of course he had a right to know. You could imagine that getting seconds from a pirate was not on any admiral’s wishlist to be sure. Also with the extra baggage of it being unprotected sex as well unfortunately. 

You hadn’t been in the position to demand a condom in either instance of course. Just praying that the pirate was wealthy and intelligent enough to have the right medicines on hand to keep himself clear of STD’s. Your marine issued birth control pills were a necessity you’d always kept to the daily regimen of as well.

Why Doflamingo had insisted on going in raw and not pulling out either you weren’t sure about yet. Whether that was just his reckless nature, or something more specific to you was far too soon to tell.

“Me and him? Twice…” You answered quietly, not without guilt still in your tone. Even if Doflamingo hadn’t gotten to finish you that second time in Sabaody.

Kuzan groaned. You knew if he was sober the reactions would have been so much worse. So maybe the alcohol was still a blessing in its own way. As it was now he just looked somewhat miserable again even as ice crystals still sparkled across the mattress around you both. “I just…don’t understand.” He told you.

“I don’t really either,” you admitted too. “And I don’t even know if I can…well, take you right now because of that. I don’t have any condoms here anymore.” You and Smoker had been together long enough to trust that each other were clean. And you were just trying to be up front. Plus you were still torn anyway. You probably couldn’t have endured him without serious ice to numb you again anyway.

But your hands worked fine. Your mouth worked fine if he wanted that. All he had to do was show that it was still okay.

“You don’t have to do anything for me.” He breathed instead as he reached for you then. “That’s not why I’m here.”

And he was then kissing you again, disregarding his erection as you felt him loosening the belt of your bathrobe. His cold hands slipped beneath it as he so gently pulled that last barrier from your shoulders.

You saw him lean back enough to look at you as it fell away. A light frown downturned his lips as he looked across all the damage. 

Kuzan sighed, fingertips tracing some of it with the cold growing a little more around you again. “Of you and me, I was always supposed to be the more self destructive one…when did that change?” 

Probably around the time that he’d first left you you thought to yourself. It had been so hard then. You had to get even tougher to keep going. But when you didn’t answer him, he just shifted you both so that you were now on your back in the bed, him above you as he straddled you. 

And in some way, being under him made you feel so young again. Like true innocent affection despite still being nude in bed with him right now. How those two things could coexist made about as much sense as anything else right now as he started kissing your collarbones.

You knew he was being so careful with you too, even as his lips moved lower to suck one of your breasts gently. His chilled mouth teasing you unintentionally as your hand reached up to stroke through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Kuzan had always joked about really liking breasts whenever he flirted with girls. Doflamingo had focused on yours a bit too. But not in the same way that Kuzan made them a real priority as soon as they were available to him.

If you had to pick a part of your body that Doflamingo had seized on most, well it was just the main attraction at this point. He just wanted to fuck you and nothing else as far as you knew. Whether by cock, tongue, or fingers, that man wanted to be inside.

Kuzan had never been that way though. He wouldn’t say no to the privilege of course, but he’d never been in a hurry. He would get there when he got there. It wasn’t about any specific endgame. It was just about being together.

And yet…even now as Kuzan’s mouth worked your chest and his hand slid protectively over your hip, you didn’t feel like this reunion changed a thing between you.

It didn’t feel like tomorrow would be any different than yesterday or the day before that. Maybe he had missed you. Maybe this was his own form of penance if he thought in any way that his prior actions had put you on a road to falling into the grasp of a man like Doflamingo.

But somehow you still knew that when the sun came up this ice would be melted again and he would be gone. Back to only being your friend.

“Kuzan…” It may be your only chance to ask, the alcohol dropping enough walls for him to answer you once and for all. This question that had plagued you even on the nights that it was Smoker instead who would have been above you like this.

“Hmm?” The admiral turned his head, just resting it against your chest then to listen to you.

You knew he could hear your heartbeat too in that position now as you brought your fingers back into his hair.

“Why did you really leave me…why wasn’t I good enough for you then?”

And he made another sound and you realized he had closed his eyes. But his expression looked somewhat miserable again. He didn’t want to talk about this.

“Kuzan.” You raised your voice a little. 

His eyes opened slightly. He was using your chest as something to rest against all the same. “I’m sorry…I’m just an asshole.” He murmured. “I couldn’t stay. I can’t have a family. None of it. My path doesn’t allow that…it’d just end only one way. I’d lose them…lose you.”

“And nothing has changed now, has it?” You knew the answer already. But you both needed to say it.

“No. It hasn’t. I can’t…”

“You can’t love me.” You finished for him.

“No.” He breathed. “Not that way.”

“It’s okay…” You heard yourself saying. Even with the pain that went through your chest at the final confirmation. “Nobody can.”

He lifted his head, just enough to look at you again. His eyes looked so tired. “That isn’t true.”

You smiled just barely. “It doesn’t matter. Doflamingo isn’t capable of it either I’m sure.” And before he could interrupt you for saying that name that he still didn’t want to hear, you asked something else. 

“So are you going to out me about him? I am still a marine like I said. He put me in a bad spot, but I did what I had to so that I was the only one he hurt. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I’m not a traitor, Kuzan. And if it does go too far, I know you can stop me. Is that what you really came here to tell me?”

And for the first time Kuzan had a trace of fear in his own eyes. But he was also too tired to do much more than interlace his fingers in yours then, with his head still on your chest.

“Hina is the only other one that knows. That boy told her what he saw and she told me. She won’t out you.” He took another breath though. “But I went and saw Doflamingo in Sabaody this morning…”

And an additional streak of fear cut through you at those words. But the most terrible thing of all was that you actually felt a concern for the demon himself. You had almost asked if Kuzan had hurt Doflamingo, if he had frozen him before you bit your lip to stop such insane words from coming out of your mouth.

“We didn’t fight. It came close.” Kuzan said, though his expression didn’t say how much he may have noticed your near slip. “But I thought about it the rest of the day. All day at the bar until I finally realized…”

He’d closed his eyes again. There was a new defeat in the way he’d draped across your body now. “I still don’t understand why it has to be true…but I realized he’s just the kind of man you like to fight with. And you love to fight so much…you always have. So he didn’t just choose you. You’re choosing him. Aren’t you? You wouldn’t give that rush up even if I begged you to…”

You were speechless. 

Kuzan nuzzled further into your bare chest however. He somewhat clumsily reached out to pull the blankets around you both as well.

“I’ll leave in the morning. I trust you…whatever you do.” He murmured. “But I’ll kill him the moment he goes too far. Don’t let him hurt you again…if he does there’s nowhere that pirate could hide from the ice age I’d bring.”

————————————

Late into the night, the rains had finally moved on. But the stress in Doflamingo’s mind had not. He knew that Vergo had carried out his orders just as asked. They hadn’t gotten to talk about it any more as he’d had to go into phone meetings as Joker the rest of the day. But no news was good news. It meant that everything was completed as expected.

The warlord had decided to let the hours pass by even further after that too. Trying to think out his next plans before he’d make any other move.

He’d busied himself with readying to sail for Dressrosa in the darkness. The Sabaody house would be out of play for a while as he’d gathered the things from his office. 

Even this morning’s threats from Aokiji hadn’t been enough to fully deter him though. He was apparently willing to risk it all as the longer the day had gone on, the more he’d realized that he wanted…no, needed to see you again.

He would absolutely still be holding you to that agreement of staying with him a few nights in exchange for the release of those slaves as well. Just not at Sabaody as things needed a longer pause there now.

The warlord had other houses though. Plenty of them that he could choose farther from Marineford. Somewhere more difficult for unwanted company to interrupt everything he wanted to have all the time in the world to finally do to you. He was sure his opportunity would come.

He hadn’t been boarded on his ship long at all, navigators setting course for Dressrosa as he’d headed below deck and away from the now clear, starlit skies. He’d actually considered just getting a quick nap in as he entered his captain’s quarters to sit alone on his bed as well.

He was more than tired after such a long day. He had more work he could be doing instead of sleeping though. The door was already shut and locked as he removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. 

The right eye was dry, the left stung even more than usual.

He sat in silence, opening only his right eye after another moment. He rubbed at the left eye, then blinking it to see only shadows and haze through it as always before closing it again to lessen the stinging. 

Leaving his glasses on the nightstand, he laid back onto the bed regardless. He’d kicked off his shoes and put his arms behind his head, probably falling asleep within a half hour at most.

At least until one of the snails rang anyway. There were always several wherever he slept. Different snails for contacts all over the world. 

Doflamingo actually just rolled over for once though, burying his face in his overstuffed pillow. Maybe that nap needed to be a few hours after all. But the snail just kept ringing. 

And with that amount of persistence he finally had to lift his head up to look. His right eye trying to focus on which snail it was before that eye did widen in realization.

A specific marine snail that hadn’t rang in quite some time was now vibrating among its peers. Doflamingo’s hair was still messy from rolling around in the bed as his strings brought that receiver quickly to his hand. And the snail with it as he pulled it onto the mattress beside him. Hurrying to catch the caller before they might finally stop.

“Well,” He said, already feeling that bit of adrenaline starting to rile him back fully awake too. It really had been a while. “What am I in trouble for this time?” He asked, with his hand partially going over his eyes in habit, as if to hide them even over the phone as he lay on his back again.

“Doflamingo.” Tsuru’s voice carried over. Not angry, not pleased, just fully Tsuru as she answered him. “I had thought you’d outgrown this childish fixation. You’ve been bothering one of my crew again.”

“Do you mean short skirt?” He smiled at her usual bluntness, but it actually wasn’t a harsh expression on his face. There was a little nostalgia here. It’d been years since he’d said that older nickname in front of Tsuru.

“I told you not to call her that again.”

“Captain is a lot more boring of an honorific, Tsuru-san.”

Of course, he should have been far more upset at this surprise. Because the moment that Tsuru would become involved between the two of you was inevitable, but also an entire new difficulty level that he may not currently be prepared for.

And yet, it wasn’t at all like being confronted by Aokiji this morning. Doflamingo truly didn’t mind hearing her voice again. Regardless of the circumstances.

“So what accusations am I facing then?” He actually yawned as he stretched within his bed, even without removing his hand from his eyes. “Apologies if you’re going to have to be more specific.” 

He could hear Tsuru’s resulting frown even without looking back to the snail, himself always irking her whenever he insisted on being so purposefully informal in their interactions. It was such an old game he never tired of. 

“Firstly, did you misbehave in Mariejois?” Her tone was sharp.

His lips parted slightly. If she was asking, then she was already quite sure that he’d done something. And she was even a step ahead of what Aokiji had been then. But of course he’d expect nothing less from Tsuru.

“She sat with me at the meeting while she gave her little report on the war for you. So professional. I did try to trip her, but that didn’t even work.” He admitted with another rare, genuine smile.

“Brat.” Tsuru grumbled. “But that can’t be the whole of it.”

“You’re the one that had to dangle her in front of me. I don’t know what you expected.” He dared to taunt a little without actually admitting more.

“As I said, I thought you’d outgrown that stupid fixation. You’re too old for this nonsense. Keep to your harems in Dressrosa and leave my crew alone.”

He laughed abruptly. Tsuru actually still saw this as a boyhood crush that he refused to release? He had teased her before about you in the North Blue days, yes. So he knew where she was coming from with this. But it was still something else entirely to hear her say it.

“But my pool girls at the castle can’t fight like she can. They can’t send you or even admirals to gut me like she can. It’s a completely different game. You know how much I like a challenge.”

“You can feel challenged all the way to Impel Down, boy.”

“Feh,” He was still smiling. “You’d miss me and you know it. Besides, we’re on the same side now like you always wanted. Why can’t it just finally be water under the bridge?”

“You’re still a pirate. And you don’t take care of your toys, Doflamingo. You break them and then you discard them. That girl has been with me since she was a teen. And unfortunately, I know you’ve had your attention on her since then too. But it doesn’t give you any right to her. You think everything belongs to you. That’s not how this works.”

He did frown a little then. But he wasn’t afraid to dig deeper, maybe even complaining to her actually about the injustice he still thought he’d suffered this morning. “You know you aren’t even the first marine to give me this speech today. Though it sounds a lot less patronizing coming from you.”

And there was a pause there. Which actually delighted him a little, with him having even a rare sliver of information that she did not.

“It was your Admiral Aokiji. I guess that’s her new marine beau again already? He came to my house in Sabaody this morning to bitch at me about having that little skirmish with her at the auction house. I suppose I must have made him jealous. He really was an asshole about the whole thing.”

But he couldn’t catch that woman off guard for long, as she absorbed this revelation easily. “Then I hope his ice gave you a wake up call. Just stay out of it. He’s not someone to be trifled with.”

“Neither am I,” The warlord’s pride did force him to remind her then, but he still wasn’t cold in tone. Not to her. “All I’m hearing though is that you all think I’m not good enough for her. It’s insulting. But let’s talk hypothetical since you took your precious time to make this call about her anyway. What happens if she falls for me instead? Do you excommunicate her from your little sailing brigade? Again, per the World Government, you and I are allies now. No matter how much you still call me a regular pirate. There’s nothing regular about me, Vice Admiral.”

It really had been some time since they’d conversed for this long. But Tsuru was always his match and more when it came to verbal debate as she responded without hesitation. “You’re fantasizing about things that can’t be. I have no doubt that you could hide behind your charms for even months or more if you chose to. But she’s not as ruthless as you’d require. And if it did become public, her rank would be frozen at best. She’d lose all credibility. And she’s worked far too hard to throw that away for a man who can’t even love her.”

Doflamingo felt his teeth grit. It was simultaneous to that slight twist in his chest again. Yet he didn’t lose his temper. “You’re so practical as always. But tell me the truth then. If I said I wanted to at least try, would you still do everything in your power to stop me? I don’t care what the world thinks of me. A kingdom of my own was my goal for so long. And now I have one thanks to Riku’s madness. So I’m chasing my next treasure. And I’m starting to think that it’s time for Dressrosa to have a queen. I could give her everything. You know that I could. Would it really be so terrible for her?” 

She finally sounded more irritated then, maybe even surprised for a single moment. This was of course the first he was confessing these new intentions to anyone. But it was only natural that she’d be the first to know as Tsuru answered him. “And the moment she does anything at all to challenge your ego, or your ideas of people only existing in tiers beneath you as your servants at best, would you kill her, boy? Because I don’t think you understand how to function any differently than that. A woman is not a toy, not a puppet, not a pet.” 

But she still took another breath, and here showcased the real reason why Doflamingo had tolerated this old marine mother for so many years. “I know you’re lonely. I know it hurts you. But forcing more people into your family against their will is only going to lead to another Minion Island. She’s a marine. She’ll always choose to save others even at the expense of herself in the end. Because that’s what we do. Even if you can only see that selflessness as betrayal to your own aspirations.”

His smile was fully gone as his hand slid away from his eyes then. If the snail copied the look in them now, it was what it was. Tsuru had seen these eyes before of course, and the pain that lived inside them.

“Rosinante never loved me, Tsuru-san. It’s not the same. And I know when things are worth risking and when they aren’t now. I’m smarter than I was then. She doesn’t have to be involved in anything unsavory.” And that was of course putting it lightly. “I don’t need another soldier. I already have plenty.”

“How long has this been going on then?” She asked, seeming to start to accept how very deep into this obsession he already was. How serious he really was.

“Since you recruited and flaunted her in front me years ago.” He responded, as if still blaming Tsuru for all of it too.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I made sure she was oblivious to your leering and your dirty comments back then. Because she had a right to grow up without that burden on her self worth. She was still a child.”

“But you still let Aokiji have her.” He retorted, and it was more spiteful there.

Tsuru sighed. They had already been through this too. Years ago when it had first happened. “Don’t you dare lecture me on morality, boy. I’ve raised enough daughters. There does come an age where they’re going to go out and find a partner whether you approve of it or not. And if you don’t let them, the rebellion and self destruction they’ll choose instead would be even worse. I knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Just as much as I knew it wouldn’t last. And it never will now either as long as he’s still wishing to remain an admiral. That’s his own choice after what happened to Zephyr. Kuzan doesn’t want to be close to anyone.”

Doflamingo’s eyebrows lowered. This didn’t make sense to him. And Tsuru had never divulged that extra tidbit before. Aokiji was afraid? “He was ready to try and kill me this morning if I so much as sneezed. He wants her that bad and yet he still chooses to be without her?”

“He chooses distance because he does care about her. You wouldn’t understand. And the only reason I’m telling you this at all is so that you don’t resent her for someone she’s not even going to have. I know how that mind of yours works. You’re the most jealous thing that ever breathed.”

He sneered a little. “Sometimes I think you lie about which devil fruit you really have. You see through everyone don’t you?”

“Not everyone. I know you commit far more crimes than I can put evidence to at this point. But if the question is just how you’ll react to something? Please, you haven’t changed at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so difficult?” He exhaled, even as that tension faded again. “What do I have to do to convince you? You talk about your daughters, but what about me? You keep telling me ‘no’ over and over, you know it only makes things worse on this side too. Let me pursue her, even if you think this will never work. Fine, I’ll walk away when I’m done. Just like Aokiji did. But if you keep blocking me, you know it just makes me want to tear right through those walls.”

“You still never answered me on how long this has been going on. You hadn’t asked me about her since you’ve been a king. Now all the sudden you’re fixated more than ever. Why?”

“It was Mariejois of course.” He confirmed. “The very moment you left her alone with me, Tsuru-san. Can’t you at least commend my patience? It only took that many years for you to think I’d forgotten about her.”

“And then Sabaody.” She said, taking her own deep breath, seeming to accept this as her mistake. Obviously she didn’t know the extent of what had happened in either instance. She only knew that his desire for you had been fully rekindled because of it.

“So, I answered you.” His voice was fully serious now. “You do the same. What do I have to do to prove to you that I can play house with her without any casualties? You never know, she might even like it enough that she decides being a queen is a better gig than being shot at by pirates all day long as a marine.”

Tsuru still scoffed. “I can’t hand her over to someone whose going to inevitably destroy her. I don’t know how more plainly I can say that. You’ll never have my blessing.”

And there was a deeper desperation that must truly be there for him to use this comparison now. “But I’ve never truly hurt you. We’ve argued, and we’ve pitted our soldiers against one another like pieces on a chessboard over and over. But I never have gone for your throat, have I? And I won’t. And you know why.”

The silence in that moment made him smile again. Aokiji had been such a prick to think he was truly lying about this this morning. “I didn’t force you into my family.” Doflamingo kept on. “All those years ago, when you took that wounded boy you so pitied into your heart willingly. So let me do the same for her. I have room for you both in what’s left of mine. Because a boy will always need his mother figure. But now this man wants his queen as well.”

“I don’t think there is a heart there anymore, Doflamingo. Even as remnants. But, I’m not going to waste more breath on what you clearly have already decided. So I’ll say this. I can’t stop her. But I will tell her the truth. Everything I know about you. And unfortunately, it doesn’t break any written protocol we have for a marine to fraternize with a warlord given your government immunity. So I can’t formally punish either of you. But as I said, it absolutely would be a social stigma that could ruin all she’s accomplished. And I’ll warn her of that too. In short, I’ll do all I can to show her the terrible choice you would really be.”

“I can accept that challenge.” Doflamingo did smile again then. This was the best it would possibly be then. He was realistic enough to know that. So honestly, it almost did feel like a victory. 

And Tsuru always had the perfect read on every situation as long as she had enough information to do so. The ‘Great Tactician’ they still called her.

So Doflamingo also believed her when she said that Aokiji would not take you back. Not fully or publicly anyway. And the warlord could live with this too. Because it meant that you’d never truly belong to Kuzan, even if he still wanted you. Because half measures weren’t enough for you. You were an all or nothing kind of woman.

And Doflamingo would now be the only one of the two of them willing to go all in.

His grin had stretched from ear to ear once more. 

He’d won.

“Well anything else to berate me with before I hang up? I think I’m actually going to sleep well for once tonight. So thank you. I do enjoy these late night chats. We should get them back on a regular schedule again shouldn’t we?”

“Mind yourself, boy. Nothing’s changed. Slip up and I’ll have some nice chains for you on your way to Impel Down.”

“Love you too, Tsuru-san.” Doflamingo laughed, that word of course sounding so unnatural just by the nature of the man it came from. But he still liked to say it to her for how much it pissed her off each and every time that he did.

And as she immediately hung up on him to prove her reaction indeed remained the same, he just smiled into his pillow as he buried his face again. There was a large weight off of him now. He’d be back to sleep very soon.

He’d actually let you sleep uninterrupted tonight as well, wherever you were. He could call you again tomorrow and start this chase all over again.

——————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

——————————

Thanks for reading!

[starilicious]

mere haath mein (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader and echo's love story from strangers to friends to lovers throughout the clone wars (a 4+1 type of story)

》 series masterlist: (please read the masterlist before continuing on!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

click here to read on AO3

》 part 4.5.2 word count: ~1.9k

》 part 4.5.2 warnings: none

》 part 4.5.2 spoilers: bad batch citadel episode

》 a/n: so sorry i disappeared! college took over my life like a storm but the semester is over now which means back to posting! i hope you all enjoyed the last season of our favs... it was such a bittersweet ending and i'm going to miss watching the show. :(( but in other news, here is the original a/n i had of this part of the fic sitting in my drafts: i lied, 4.5.2 is a longer part than i thought it would originally be LOL but enjoy!!! also, instead of fives dying, i had him disappear off the face of the galaxy. he tells anakin and rex about the chips, but he’s able to get out of that warehouse place alive because i truly despise the fact that echo is the only one left of domino squad… it makes me sad ksdfhgksdf

४.५.१ (4.5.2)

Your personal commlink crackles to life. A staticky voice comes through as you struggle to hear the message. You swiftly link it to your monitor, boosting the long-range signal the best you can.

“–stro? It’s Rex. Can you hear me? We… –und him. Come to dock...–bay six at 1600.”

The channel closes, and the static disappears into silence. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you glance at your chronometer. 0900, it reads.

After Fives disappeared, you became especially close with Rex, often accompanying him on missions where your skills as an engineer were needed. Times were getting rough and the GAR needed all the help they could get out in the field. You were first to volunteer.

For the rest of the day, you’re distracted. Even Arjun, one of the newest engineers on your team as a replacement for Prauf and Sonia, notices it. Dropping tools, tripping over supplies, forgetting your train of thought. You’re just so baffled. Rex has never done this before. And what in the galaxy could he possibly need you for right after a mission?

You’re at the hanger ten minutes early, the anxiety of just wanting to know eating away at your sanity. You tap your foot incessantly when you stand still and pace frequently from one side of the bay to another when you’re in motion, still attempting to decipher Rex’s cryptic message.

And finally (right on time, you vaguely register), two ships dock and disembark. One of them you don’t recognize as being a standard GAR ship–rather, it’s an Omicron-class attack shuttle. Is that what Rex wanted you here for? Some starship? A flash of irritation crosses through your mind as you strain to see the people getting off.

You recognize the Generals facing away from you: Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Windu. But they’re blocking your view of anyone else. You drop your gaze and see Rex’s legs in their classic blue armor as well as someone standing next to him, but you can’t tell who.

The Jedi turn to walk away and finally you can see who they were talking to. You make your way to them quickly. You don’t recognize any of the men but Rex, making you even more confused as to why he called you here.

“Rex?” you call tentatively and he turns around from his conversation to acknowledge you.

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight. The cybernetic legs instead of skin and bone, the scomp link as a replacement for a right hand, the red skull on his armor, the implants dotting his head, his face tired and haggard. His face is exactly like the clones you see everyday, but something about the recognition that lights up in his sunken eyes tells you that it’s still him.

“It’s you,” you whisper in shock, staring blatantly at the man you fell in love with during the midst of a galactic war. The man who found you, the man you lost.

The man you couldn’t save.

Echo gapes at you in surprise, clearly not expecting you to have turned up. He glances behind you at Rex in question before meeting your eyes, seemingly finding his answer.

“Hi, Astro,” he murmurs, voice deep and unused as if he just awoke from a restful night of sleep. For a moment, everything is at a standstill. No one dares to even say a word as you stand in front of each other, unsaid conversations hanging in the air. The wind breezes across your face, a gentle caress as if to say it’s okay. He’s real.

“Echo,” you breathe and throw your arms around him tightly, the shellshocked tears finally streaming down your face. You don’t give a damn about who’s watching, too wrapped in the fact that he’s home, Echo’s home, with me, in my arms.

I will never let you go again.

Echo curls his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, burying his face into your neck as he mumbles your name in what sounds like relief. You hear a choking sob, but whether it’s ripped out of you or out of Echo, you don't care.

“I’m back, I’m here. I’m here,” Echo chants it religiously, pressing his quiet promises into your searing skin and engraving it within. Whether he’s reassuring you or himself, you can’t tell. The plastoid armor cuts uncomfortably into your arms as you hug him, but the pain grounds you from cloud nine.

When Echo died, you and Fives became inseparable, always accompanying each other in quiet support. Both of you were your closest connection to Echo. And then when Fives disappeared, you felt like you lost your fragile tether completely, just floating along like broken space debris. No purpose, no happiness. Just existing within a vacuum void with no life, no resolve, no motivation.

You gently push him away then, taking his gaunt face into your hands to examine him. Your fingers hesitantly touch the implants in his head, and you let out a pained sigh at the slight frown his mouth curves into. Echo’s eyes are sullen, exhausted, but you see his determination as clear as day.

“What have they done to you, Echo?”

He doesn’t respond, instead observing you himself, noticing the darkness under your eyes and your slightly unkempt look, very unlike the prim and proper person he left behind. The brightness in your eyes has dulled, and he sees his own fatigue mirrored in your soul. Echo’s heart aches at the thought.

You take a step back from him, and he loosens his hold on you. You look behind him to see four men–clones, you realize in surprise as you peer closer.

“This is Clone Force 99,” Rex introduces you to them as Echo steps to your right to let you see them fully. “They helped rescue Echo.”

You study each one of them in curiosity as they introduce themselves to you. Clearly, there’s something different about them–you can see it in the way they carry themselves. You shake each one of their hands, reiterating your gratitude again and again.

“Thank you, all of you. I wish I could repay you in some way for rescuing him. You really don’t know how much this means to me,” you say, genuine appreciation coloring your voice. Hunter gives you a knowing smile.

“Anytime! Busting those clankers up is our speciality,” he grins and you can’t help but laugh at his happy demeanor. It kind of reminded you of Fives. A shadow of sadness passes over you, but you push it away quickly.

“Actually, there is something you may be able to do for us,” Tech pipes up. Your eyebrows raise and you gesture for him to continue, noticing Crosshair’s smirk that he makes no effort in suppressing. You weren’t exactly expecting a request at this very moment, but you don’t mind fulfilling it. It’s the least I can do. You hear Rex and Echo quietly laugh behind you.

“You’re an engineer, yes?” Tech inquires, adjusting his goggles to study you. You nod in affirmation.

“Good. I am in need of your services. We seem to be having a slight problem with the suspension support system…” he moves towards the Omicron-class attack shuttle and you follow in his footsteps, leaving the rest of Clone Force 99 and Echo and Rex slightly behind to talk amongst themselves.

You examine the blueprints on the datapad he hands you as he talks at what feels like breakneck speed. “When I pilot the Marauder–” ah, so that’s what it’s called. “–the steering feels quite sluggish and is difficult to handle when we’re in the midst of battle. I deduced it’s due to the suspension, but I can’t seem to pinpoint the exact location nor the nature of the problem even after looking over these schematics for a few hours.”

You hum in response as you scan the diagnostics before finding the issue easily in a matter of a few moments.

“Ah! Don’t worry Tech, this is a very simple fix. You need to realign the thrusters and make sure they’re properly connected to the steering shaft. I suggest taking a look at the control arms too–the thruster hinges that connect to the frame look like they’ve been through a lot, so maybe consider replacing them? I think I’ve got a couple of spare ones in my shop if you want,” you advise, handing the datapad back to him. Tech stares at you, mouth agape as he absentmindedly accepts the datapad.

You simply smile and turn around to see everyone else losing it after watching the exchange. Even Crosshair has cracked a smile, something clearly rare based on his aloof attitude. Puzzled, you ask, “What’s so funny?”

Hunter, bless him, takes mercy on you and explains dutifully. “Tech has been trying to fix that for at least two hours and you figured out the problem in thirty seconds. No one has ever been able to beat Tech at something he knows practically everything about.”

You huff out a light laugh of surprise. “Well, it is my job to fix and repair starships. It would be pretty bad if I wasn’t able to diagnose issues as soon as I got them,” you point out. Hunter nods in agreement as the laughter slowly begins to die down.

“So, I’m assuming you all are getting medals, right? I mean you’ve clearly pulled off an amazing and incredibly difficult mission,” you ask, glancing from one clone to the next, your gaze landing on Echo.

“Not… really our thing,” Tech shrugs.

“Accolades,” Crosshair concurs, mouth moving around the toothpick that seems to be permanently present.

"Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo!" Wrecker grins, pumping his fist into the air.

Hunter turns to Echo. "You sure it's… your thing?"

You steal a glance at Echo as the confusion dances across his face. "What do you mean?"

"Your path is different," Hunter elaborates before letting out a chuckle. "Like ours."

You can practically see the gears turning in Echo's head as he processes Hunter's underlying message. You stay silent.

"If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well… find us.” Hunter inclines his head to the team, and Tech, Crosshair, and Wrecker give you all a nod of goodbye. And with that, you watch Clone Force 99 retire back to their ship, leaving you, Echo, and Rex behind to watch.

“Those are some of the finest troopers I’ve ever fought alongside,” Rex states. He pauses for a moment before placing his hand on Echo’s shoulder, shaking him out of his train of thought.

“Echo.”

He turns to look at him.

“You and I go way back. If that’s where you feel your place is… then that’s where you belong,” Rex asserts, eyes roaming Echo’s conflicted face. You can’t fight the sad smile that appears on your lips. Even through all the pain he’s gone through, Rex always puts his friends–his brothers–first.

Rex rotates slightly to face you. “And if you would like to accompany him, Astro… I can make it happen.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, not believing your ears. Is he serious? You and Echo glance at each other then, an instantaneous unspoken agreement settling into the space between you. Rex pats both of your shoulders and departs.

You and Echo follow Clone Force 99’s path, each step of yours carrying you closer and closer to the unknown. You’re about to leave behind everything.

Your right hand brushes against Echo’s left one.

Well, not quite everything.

And when you all turn around to see Rex one last time and salute to him, you know that no matter what, it will be okay because Echo’s beside you. Right where he should be.

---

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 4.5.1 | part 4.5.2 📍 (you are here!) | part +1

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

[ladylooch]

Afterthoughts and Alcohol- Liv X Luca

A/N: Part 1 of Liv & Luca's LONG teased angst....

Word Count:3.5k

Stop here & here before continuing on.

Part 2| Part 3| Part 4

The timezone difference between the West coast and East coast has Livia Meier banging her head against the wall of her bathroom stall. Well, metaphorically. 

Luca and the Minnesota Wild have been on a long, road trip. Although Liv doesn’t live with Luca in Minnesota, his road trips still feel like a burden on their relationship. They talk less. He is out with the boys more. Then add in the three hour time difference and they both feel like two ships passing in the night. Liv fights the frustrated tears growing in her eyes as she fixes a smudge of her freshly applied, mauve pink lip stain. 

Heading for my nap. Text you when I’m up 😘

Liv sighs as she slowly walks out of the women’s bathroom inside UBS Arena. She looks down at the message, wanting to tell Luca how much she misses him and how distant things feel with them right now. But it is not the time. Not right before a game and when she is out with her friends for a fun night.

Instead, she sends back: ❤️💋😘

Camilla and Harper, her good friends from freshman year and now floor mates, await outside the bathroom for Liv.

“Ready?” Harper asks, sliding her arm through Liv’s. They begin to walk to the left.

“I think we missed warm ups. Will he care?” Camilla wonders. She nervously bites her lip as the girls weave arm in arm through the busy concourse to the Isles family seats. 

“No. I don’t think Ryder Hughes noticed we missed warm ups on a rivalry hockey night.” Liv laughs at the mere thought. He has the same focus and intensity as his dad, Jack. His ability to block out the rest of the world has always been admirable to Liv. 

Tonight is Girl’s Night Out sponsored by Ryder Hughes. He has been begging Liv to come watch a game to show her some “real East coast hockey” for the past several months. But class and flying to Minnesota and Devils & Rangers games, have taken up most of Liv’s time. She figured it was time to throw Ryder a bone. He has been so helpful and supportive as Liv has begun the process of starting her second book. He is constantly checking in to make sure she has eaten or has enough coffee or has taken a shower in the last three days. Only a year and a half has passed since Liv’s first book was published, but she had forgotten how difficult and stressful it can be to meet her publisher’s demanding deadlines. 

Enter Ryder Hughes as Superman.

And Luca, of course. His role is shaped more by distance than Ryder’s, but Liv tries to shelter those details from her boyfriend. She doesn’t want to make Luca feel bad for missing out on “Librarian Livy”- his nickname for her because of the blue light blocking glasses she wears while she writes.

“Where is Luca tonight?” Harper asks as they sit down in their seats. Liv can feel eyes of the WAGS on her- the Devils and Rangers and Wild and now Islanders girl? The puck bunny label practically writes it’s self across Liv’s forehead. 

“Um, he is in Seattle.” Liv clears her throat of the awkward phlegm setting in from the stares.

“Ugh, I love Seattle! It’s all moody and dreamy.” Camilla murmurs. “Do you ever visit him on the road?”

“No, the road is sacred.” Liv rolls her eyes. “It is where all the bonding and real focus on hockey happens. You know without the distraction of their loved ones.”

“I wanna be a WAG so bad!” Harper whines. “Livy, how do I get Ryder to notice me?”

“I think you need to be European….” Camilla teases, eyeing Liv from the side. 

“Stop.” Liv shakes her head. These two are good friends and always tease Liv about the “hot, hockey men” entranced by her aura.

“Livy, will you sponsor me for Swiss citizenship?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Liv laughs, bringing her mixed drink to her lips for two quick sips.

“Maybe Lio will marry me.” Harper jokes.

“He is a mess. Stay away from him.” Liv mutters. She likes Harper too much to allow her to enter Lio’s puck bunny trap. Camilla and Harper share a look, shamelessly bonding over their admiration of the oldest Meier child. 

The Islanders win the game against the Buffalo Sabres 2-1 in regulation. The girls want the experience of waiting for an NHLer and no amount of whining from Liv can get them to move along. So they wait, and wait, and wait for Ryder to poke his head out from the tunnel. He gives a wave and big grin, then climbs the stairs by twos.

“Great game!” Harper blurts immediately.

“Thanks for the tickets, Ry!” Camilla cheers as he enters the row.

“Hey ladies, thanks for coming.” He goes in for a quick hug with each one of them, ending with a longer one for Liv. “Good hockey, eh?”

“Looked similar to what I have seen.” Liv pokes his side, shrugging like she is unimpressed. He actually played well tonight. 

“Better colors though.”

“Mmm, I like green. Brings out my eyes.” She narrows them at him when he rolls his back at her. 

“Trust me, you look better in blue.” He points to her plain blue shirt with no representation of his team. “What are you up to after this?” He seems to address the group, but his attention stays on Liv. 

“I don’t know that we have decided.” Liv murmurs.

“Well, we have a green light tonight, so a bunch of the guys are heading out. You wanna tag along?”

“Yes!”

“Duh!”

Both girls chime in for Liv. She sighs, tilting her head back towards the arena roof to consider. She really didn’t write enough this week. She should go home and try to get a couple thousand more words done to feel good going into the weekend. Luca is coming into town next week and she wants to spend all her time with him, not worrying about her next check point.

“Livy, your deadline will still be there tomorrow.” Ryder winks, knowing her inner turmoil. He very dramatically juts his bottom lip out at her, then looks up towards the rafters as he bats his eyes. He looks cute and boyish, earning a smirk from her.

“Wow.” Liv snorts. “Fine, but you’re buying my drinks all night. I’m not paying.”

“Beautiful girls never pay with me.” Liv ignores the way Harper and Camilla giggle as they head down the stairs to leave in Ryder’s swanky, black Porsche. 

- - -

Inside the VIP area of some bumping club Liv has never heard of, she lays her head back on the booth and belts out the lyrics to Party in the U.S.A. Ryder is next to her, nursing his second whiskey neat as the rest of his teammates scatter through the upper area of the club. Camilla and Harper are long gone, mingling with the single members of the Islanders while Liv was sitting by herself. Ryder just came and plopped himself down after doing a lap around the level. 

“Are you glad you came?” Ryder smirks as the song finishes.

“Mhm. Thanks.” Liv says genuinely.

“I knew you would feel better if you came out. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to have fun too.”

“I do have fun.”

“Yeah, but I mean have fun here, in New York, not only when you’re jet setting off to Minnesota. You live in one of the best cities in the world and you never do anything the city has to offer.”

“Life for me here is temporary.” Liv shrugs. It is. Once she is done with school, she is going to Minnesota. She wants to build a life with Luca. 

“You’re gonna throw away a whole life here for someone else’s dream?” Ryder asks. “Kinda shitty of him to ask.”

“He didn’t ask.” Liv shrugs her shoulder slightly, feeling defensive. 

“But he also didn’t tell you to stay in the best city in the world for your career.” Liv pauses.

No, Luca didn’t tell her that.

“Maybe Mr. Perfect isn’t so perfect.” Ryder suggests.

“If I wanted to stay, he would support that.”

“Come on, Livy. You think he loves being hundreds of miles away from you for most of the year?”

“What is he supposed to do, Ry? He can’t control where he plays. You know that.”

“Sure, but I hope you know you deserve more than to only be someone’s girlfriend in some shitty, fly over state. I can’t imagine that’s what your parents want for you either.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Maybe, but at least someone here wants what is best for you.”

“So does he.” Liv finishes with a whisper. They both look away from each other, taking drinks to cool off some of the tension. Liv avoids the pull of Ryder’s gaze a few minutes later, wondering if she should head back to her apartment instead of continuing the night.

“Hey.” Ryder murmurs softly. He reaches out for her hand, giving it a squeeze. He watches his thumb brush over her fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset.” He forces a smile. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

But are you happy? An internal voice asks Liv. Are you happy with how many more months of long distance? Or the fact that you and Luca have only talked once on this five day road trip? Or how short the conversation was and the way he goes hours without responding to a text? Will this be how it is in Minnesota? Is Ryder right? Will you only be Luca’s girlfriend, a WAG, and not a published author with a bachelor’s degree and working towards a master’s?

Liv swallows down her nerves, squeezing Ryder’s hand back while pulling in a steady breath.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m fine. Great even.” She finishes, groping for her glass on the table and slamming the rest in one huge swallow.

But the rest of the night, Liv is swimming in and out of reality. She has a hard time being present with the group. The amount of alcohol she consumes doesn’t help. She gets upset when realizing Luca never texted her before he headed to the arena. She was in the bathroom, scrolling through Instagram when she saw his arrival picture posted on the Wild socials. His phone is right there in his hand, but she has no new messages from him.

How is this so easy for him? How is she sitting here spinning her wheels, waiting for any sliver of attention, and he is walking into that arena without a care in the world? Before she thinks better of it, she sends a text to him.

Going to bed. Sweet dreams.

Then she fills her Instagram story up with all the pictures she can take of every Islander and her. She takes shots with their star center, captain, and goalie. Her and Ryder snap tongue out, ultra posed pics. She shoves at Ryder’s face as he tries to hand her another shot. Camilla and Harper join in on the pictures too- sexy, pouty faces as Liv sheds her jacket and runs around the hot VIP area in her black tank top. 

Liv is catching her breath off the dance floor with a fresh tequila soda when her phone buzzes on the bar top.

Your bed looks different these days. Have fun, baby! Call me when you get home?

He is as sweet as ever, which is so annoying to Liv. 

She sees Ryder on the dance floor with Harper, who is falling all over herself at his attention. Liv scoffs. Pathetic. Harper throws her arms around his shoulders. His hands go to her hips, holding her up and in place as her upper body sways. Everything feels like it is getting sloppy. Harper pulls herself into his chest, cuddling up into his arms. He lets her, but his eyes wander up to where Liv is. He raises his eyebrows at her. Liv shrugs in response. Ryder leans down to Harper’s ear, saying something that has her nodding. 

Liv scans the crowd as they wade through to get off the dance floor and to the stairs leading to VIP. Every woman turns their head to look at Ryder as he passes. If he notices, he doesn’t let on. Liv shakes her head in awe of it. She can feel their hot gazes judging her when he stops next to her. He throws his hands on the railing she is leaning on, smiling in greeting at her.

“Another night where you have your pick of the place.” Liv cocks a brow at him. A piece of hair falls across his forehead and instinctively, Liv reaches up to brush it away. Ryder goes still with her skin on his. He closes his eyes for a moment, then slowly turns fully towards her, setting his blue eyes on her face.

“They aren’t the girl that I want.” Liv holds his gaze for three breaths, then looks away, taking a gulp of her drink. She ignores his words, unable to comprehend fully if that was insinuation or not. She can feel the way her body responds to the alcohol. She is a little unsteady on her feet, feeling her inhibitions fall away, and the anxiety dissipate until she feels completely comfortable in her skin. 

The feeling doesn’t last as Camilla and Harper get downright sideways. Camilla is in tears crying over her ex-boyfriend with a rookie who looks like he wants to run through the brick wall to get away from her. Harper is falling asleep on the bench and the bouncer is throwing his thumb over his shoulder that she has to go. Ryder helps Liv get them back into his car. 

“Are you okay to drive?” Liv wonders before getting in.

“Yes. I’m sober. Saw you three getting wild and stopped drinking so you would be safe.” The consideration touches Liv. She is contemplative as she gets into the passenger seat. Her seatbelt clicks into place then Ryder pulls out into traffic. As the car shifts, Liv feels something shifting inside of her too. A softness is growing where she felt jealous and out of control earlier. 

Camilla rushes out of Ryder’s car as soon as he puts it into park. She tosses a wave over her shoulder leaving a passed out Harper to Ryder and Liv. They each take an arm, working together to get her into her apartment. Once inside Liv helps get Harper into bed as Ryder waits in the living room.

“Livy, do you think Ryder fell in love with me tonight? Is that why he is here helping?”

“I think he cares about you, Harp, but maybe try again when you’re sober.” Liv says to her friend. Liv ignores the twisting in her stomach at the thought of Ryder interested in someone. What audacity her tummy has to be churning right now.

Liv’s boots clack down the hall as she finds Ryder by the couch. He is looking at a picture of the three girls on one of their first weekends at Columbia. He seems out of place with his big shoulders, dark hair, and masculine presence in the overly feminine living room.

“That feels like a lifetime ago.” Liv murmurs, stopping next to him. Their shoulders brush. 

“You have lived a lot since then.”

“Yeah.” Liv smiles. “Can’t believe I’m graduating in a few months. It flew by.”

“The best years do, especially when you find a safe place to spread your wings.”

“I know it’s going to be hard for you when I leave.” Liv murmurs, sensing the sad undertone to his words. They haven’t spoken about this before, but the implication has been there.

“Yeah, it will be. I’m losing my best friend.” To comfort him, Liv laces their fingers together, tugging him towards the door to leave Harper’s behind.

“Come on, knight in shining armor. No need to get sad and sappy tonight. We have months left together.”

“True. Plus, I’ve got one more drunk girl to tuck into bed.” 

“I’m not drunk.”

“Sure, but you aren’t sober.” Liv doesn’t argue about that. Ryder makes sure the door is locked to Harper’s apartment, then puts a guiding hand on Liv’s back to walk her the two doors down to her place. 

Antsy anticipation intensifies in Liv as she pulls her keys out. Her other hand is still laced in Ryder’s comfortably. His thumb brushes along her fingers and she feels butterflies sweep the walls of her stomach.

“Liv. I’m serious. I know you’re trying to change the subject and move on, but I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. You have this effect on me. I am better when you’re around. I’m scared of who I will be without you.”

Warmth and appreciation spreads out from Liv’s chest to her extremities. That feels so good to hear. She has spent so much of the day feeling like an after thought, a throw away item when other things are more pressing. Right or wrong, Ryder fills her cup right back up. She smiles softly at him.

“See? What am I going to do without that smile.” He reaches out for her face, then drops his hand, remembering what they are to each other. Remembering who she has waiting for her in San Jose or whatever West coast city Liv said he was in. 

“We will still see each other.”

“Like this?” His voice gets huskier.

“What do you mean?”

“Just me and you. Like this. Like…” He trails off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He gets bold, cupping her cheek with his hand. Liv closes her eyes and leans into his touch. “I’m trying so hard not to kiss you right now.” Her blue eyes open again at his confession. 

Liv should say goodnight. Right now. Danger signs bolt upright in her mind. Red flags whip in hurricane force winds. Alarms bang through her head like cartoon cymbals clamoring together. And yet, her eyes drift, down the bridge of his nose, over his slightly red cheeks, to the full, red flesh of his lips. Her top teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth, then she runs her gaze back up those features to his eyes again.

“Livy…” He whispers her name like a secret. 

Her eyes gravitate to Ryder’s lips again, wondering what it would feel like, for one moment, to kiss someone else. But not just anybody, him. Ryder. Loneliness whispers like a siren to feel warm skin against her mouth again. To be held for a moment, desired, not put on a shelf to be taken down when hockey or school isn’t demanding attention.

Ryder leans in, keeping his eyes open, locked on Liv. Her heartbeat blasts through her ears like a freight train as he stops at 80%. All that is left between them is a slim slice of stale apartment air. His warm breath collides with hers right in front of their noses. She tilts her chin up more, perfectly evening up their mouthes. 

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz

Liv’s phone vibrates in the back pocket of her tight jeans. Her and Ryder stare at each other. Without even checking, they both somehow know it’s Luca. She never told him she was home. Now he likely worries, three thousand miles away.

“I should go.” He sighs dismally. Liv can taste his words in her mouth, feeling the flutter of the air of them on her lips. Then he turns and walks away. 

Liv doesn’t answer Luca’s call. She couldn’t speak if she wanted to anyway. 

Guilt crawls through her veins, icing her chest and making her unsteady on her feet. Ryder disappears into the elevator. Her back hits her door as she clutches her keys to her chest. 

Why did that almost happen?

And what is that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that mirrors disappointment?

Read more Liv and Luca here.

[nicolovesutoo]

Satoru x Suguru - STARBOY

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Themes: Meeting at a nightclub, bartender Suguru and rich boy Satoru, love at first sight

FLUFF: 1,023 words ⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Suguru was a simple man with a simple routine: Shower, Eat breakfast, Attend college classes, Finish homework, and then Go to work. He has had this routine for over 2 years, it was ingrained in him. He was the type of person who needed a schedule, he couldn’t function without one. Working at Club STARLIGHT wasn’t on his bucket list, but it paid well. His friend got him the job after hearing him vent about his asshole manager at the last bar he worked at. At this job though, Suguru could wear what he wanted as long as it was all black and his hours were flexible.

Tonight at STARLIGHT, though, made him take multiple shots of espresso to the head. He had been up since 9 AM to finish a class project and went to work at noon… it was now 10 PM. He was covering a shift for Shoko because she had night classes and had covered his shift last week because he was sick. His least favorite thing to pour was beer, mostly because of the strong smell that it produced.

Dressed in black button-down and blue jeans, he poured a beer for a female patron before cleaning a wine glass. The music was blaring and the DJ was shit tonight, he looked like he was pretending to know what he was spinning. The remixes made no sense, like, “Who mixes ‘Blue’ and ‘Despacito’??” He thought, rolling his eyes and yawning before drying the wine glass. The theme for the night was ‘Christmas in São Paulo’, but he didn’t understand it either. The vote on the theme was held by his coworkers at 4 PM on Wednesday like clockwork. He tied his long black hair into a ponytail and listened to other people’s conversations.

A certain man caught his eye though, he stood out like a sore thumb but in a good way. His white hair was messy and he was dressed in a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up, black pants, and black dress shoes. He was laughing and chatting it up with the other male patrons that Suguru had seen around more than once. These men spent a lot of money in one night; their checks usually racked up to $600+. They were important businessmen who, when they were drunk enough, wanted to buy a little bit more than just a drink. But Suguru always declined and called a cab for the men, even when they weren’t bothering him.

The man with the white hair and pale skin approached the bar, sitting right in front of him. He had an expensive watch on his right arm and his tinted round glasses barely covered his bright blue eyes. The man had the smile of an angel but the appearance of a sly devil. He spoke gently to Suguru, the man was sober.

“Hi there, Mr..?” He asked, gesturing towards Suguru. They didn’t wear name tags here.

“My name is Suguru.” He answered, coming closer to the bar and leaning over to talk to the man. Surprisingly they were of equal height. “What can I do for you?”

The man looked him up and down before flashing a smile and lowering his glasses, “Well my name is Satoru, and can you make me a Hennessy on the rocks?”

Suguru nodded and turned away from him, going to make the drink. Usually, Suguru would be the one making the conversation with the patron but Satoru carried it. He talked all about his job working at this fashion company named, ‘KAIZEN.CO’, how he was the future CEO because of his father.

Suguru didn’t come from a rich family like Satoru did. Sure they were well off but not designer well off. When he handed him the drink the man’s hand lingered on his for a bit, longer than needed, before taking away the drink. Satoru took a sip from the drink and gave him a thumbs up, signaling that he did a good job. He handed him the check, the drink coming out to $20. He paid in cash, placing down a $100 bill and telling Suguru that it was his tip before winking. He wrote something down on the check before walking away to his buddies, a man with blonde hair and another with brown hair.

Suguru raised an eyebrow before picking up the check and reading what the man had written. He had written his number and told him to ‘Call him <;’. He scoffed before sticking the receipt in his back pocket and finishing his job.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

He went home at midnight, completing a 12-hour shift, and was ready to pass out. When he lay on his bed, however, he sighed and thought about the man who took an interest in him. Without consulting his friends, he took the receipt out of his back pocket and dialed the man’s number into his phone. He put it on speaker and waited anxiously for him to answer, his heart dropping a bit while it rang.

When he answered the phone, his voice sounded groggy, as if he had just woken up, “Hello..? Who’s this?” He asked with a yawn.

Suguru hesitated before speaking into the phone, “It’s Suguru, the man you asked to call you..”

He could hear the man scrambling around, knocking some things over while cursing under his breath. He heard something ‘click’ before Satoru spoke again, “I was hoping you would call! If you aren’t busy tomorrow, well today, I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Suguru asked, laughing a bit while the man on the other line scrambled for words.

“W-Well yeah! If that’s what you want to call it, I mean you don’t have to that’s totally chill, like we can keep talking–”

“There’s this nice cafe on 5th street named ‘ANGELS’. Meet me there at 10 AM?” He asked him, ending the rambling.

He felt him smiling on the other end before answering, “Yes, I’d love to.”

“See you then.” He said before hanging up the phone and telling him goodnight.

(I'm also on AO3: ily__nico)

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Four - Roadkill

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - A moody car ride and muddled emotions.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.9K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, mentions of blood, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I put my soul into this chapter like I just wanted everything to be right and for things to add up. Anyway, I'm so glad to finally share it as we reveal more about their story.

Masterlist

Prev | Next

Hawkins High - English Class, Sophomore Year

The clock ticked by tauntingly slowly, five minutes feeling like an eternity in the stale classroom flooded with white and beige, each desk meticulously placed in their respective rows, all uniform and not one out of line as each student occupied their own.  A pop quiz rested in front of every anxious student, Mrs. O’Donnell being overly unfair in springing the assignment on everyone after only going over the unit one time in the span of fifteen minutes.

Only the sound of pencils gliding across paper and the ticking of the clock were evident among the prison-like room.  Just outside of the window to your right was a perfect view of the large oak tree you’d claimed as your lunch spot.  Though Steve had asked you to sit with him and his friends at lunch, you declined.  The mere idea of having to face all of those preppy and popular kids was terrifying and you’d rather enjoy your lunch in solitude.  Steve seemed like a promising friend the deeper you got into highschool but you’d settle for sitting with him in class if it meant you could avoid the jocks he hung out with.

Stomach grumbling, you only prayed that the next two class periods would go by faster than the first period had been dragging along.  It was only a week into sophomore year and you were already counting the days until summer.  You thought you’d be able to avoid Mrs. O’Donnell’s dreaded English class throughout all four years but sadly in only your second year you were cursed with her name on your schedule.  Everyone knew her class was the one to dodge if at all possible.  

Marking your answer to the last question on the quiz, you bashfully stood to set it on Mrs. O’Donnell’s desk, noting the way she glared at you before heading back to your desk as quietly as you could.  There was no pleasing the woman, she was alway miserable.  Being one of the shyest students in the class, she still made it known that not even you were safe from her wrath.  Just as you reached into your bag to retrieve your copy of Of Mice & Men which was assigned at the very beginning of the week, the classroom door swung open, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Donnell!”  A boy’s voice sang as he sauntered through the door, skateboard in hand and backpack in rough condition barely hanging onto his lanky shoulder.  It was the same boy from the ice cream social, he was wearing pretty much the same thing, black jeans with noticeable rips and a matching t-shirt with ‘Iron Maiden’ on the front.  The chain hanging from his jeans clinked as he walked and his tousled brunette curls swayed with the movement.  Eddie, as you recall.  His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a stop in front of the teacher’s desk, her face displaying a different kind of disdain for the boy in front of her, his dimples still framing his smile regardless.

“Munson, it is not polite to interrupt my class.  Where are your manners?”  The older woman seemed to gain more wrinkles just by engaging with him.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.  You get to experience another glorious year with yours truly.”  He had no fear, he was dripping confidence and from the looks of it he didn’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t having it.  You were suddenly envious of his charisma, only wishing you could absorb some of the self-assurance he was possessing in the few seconds he had walked in the door. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, you’re not on my roster.”  O’Donnell suddenly stands, her gaze would intimidate you but Eddie only sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if this wasn’t his first rodeo with her.  

“I swear, the office sent me here directly.  Call them.”  Before she could scold him, he had made his way toward the back of the room, tossing his backpack on the ground next to the empty desk just behind you and slumping into the chair while crossing his arms.  So it seemed he was in your grade.  Every other guy your age was still struggling with voice cracks and puberty mustaches but he seemed to have a grasp on things and was more mature looking than them.  Or maybe he was in another grade and just in a sophomore English class.  Whatever the case, he sat right behind you and it made you nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes you question if you tried hard enough on your appearance, wishing you would’ve taken more care in the mirror that morning.  

Who were you kidding?  Boys didn’t even look your way so what made this one any different?  He wasn’t.  You were just riling yourself up again only to let yourself down by setting unrealistic expectations.  And all within a few seconds, that dream was discarded and you came back to reality.

Only for some reason you dared to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him.  Where that sudden bravery came from, you’d never know.  But you’d never forget the way his eyelashes casted perfect shadows along his cheeks even in the annoyingly fluorescent lighting of the classroom and the way a dimple peeked out at you as he offered a boyish close mouthed smile, by far the most charming smile you’d ever seen.  It happened so quickly you started to question if you were daydreaming.

—

Present Day

There are a lot of things to focus on in Eddie’s van.  The big gulp cup in his cup holder filled a third of the way with change, food wrappers littering the floor which he must have shoved away to make room, a few cassettes among the trash—who used cassettes anymore?  There was a car parts catalog on the dashboard, a pair of headphones on top, and next to it a small box of unopened guitar strings.  Among the many things happening visually in the van, it was all very Eddie from what you currently knew about him against your will.  Even the lingering smells screamed his name, the hint of cigarettes, a little bit of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror, a tinge of skunk-like bitterness, and the spice from his cologne.  

It was silent, not even the radio he famously blared at high volumes playing, only the sound of the engine rumbling.  You didn’t dare look to your left at him, embarrassment seeping through your pores from earlier.  There was no way you would talk about being that vulnerable in front of Eddie Munson out of all people.  Hell, you weren’t even sure why you were riding in the passenger seat of his van and had you been coherent enough when he guided you to sit, you would’ve refused and walked home, paying no mind that it would’ve taken around thirty minutes.  Now you were stuck in one of the most uncomfortable positions of your life, riding shotgun in your nemesis’ car and on shaky ground with your best friends.  The more you thought about it, Steve couldn’t even look at you when you’d asked if Robin knew about his sneaky endeavors.  It was as though you were subject to isolation with no reparations in the foreseeable future.

“Pull over.”  You were surprised by how strong your voice had sounded despite how much you’d been crying before.  

A glance your way was all you received as you watched him in your peripheral.  Why was it that the most common occurrence tonight was to be unresponsive?  

“Pull over.”  You repeated a bit louder.  

Still, he ignored you.

“Pull over or I’m going to jump out.”  

The threat was lost on him, earning you no reaction however you took him by surprise when you reached for the handle, pulling and cracking the door open as the pavement beneath zoomed past and the wind sucked the breath out of your lungs, the crisp fall air felt like a punch to the face in contrast to the warm cabin of the van.  

“What the fuck!?  Do you have a death wish or something!?”  Eddie kept a hand on the wheel while simultaneously stretching his arm across you as he reached for the handle to pull it closed but failing in his first attempt.  “Shut the damn door!”  Unsure of what you were trying to gain from this, you tugged the door toward you with a scoff, Eddie shifting his eyes between you and the road.  What would be your next move?  You hurl yourself out of a moving van and end up roadkill?  It wasn’t a very well thought out plan.

“Just pull over.”  You couldn’t stand being trapped within the confines of his van much longer.

Everyone and everything you knew was turning out to be a lie, straight to your face and the pressure was only building up inside.  And it all boiled down to one person who happened to be sitting just to your left.  “Dammit!  Just pull over!  I wanna walk!”  You shifted, now turned toward him, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned, complete displeasure written on his face.  

“Would you quit being such a fucking brat!?”  There he was.  This is the Eddie you knew of, a complete contrast to the one that had emerged earlier.  He was unrecognizable as he played the part of the neutral party between you and Steve.  And he had no right either, you would be sure he knew that.  

“Then fucking pull over!”  

“We’re almost there, then you can do whatever the hell you want.  See if I give a shit.”  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, a pinky tapping against it as he seemed to try and keep himself calm.

“You don’t even know where I live.  Let me out.  Right here, pull over.”  It was a constant battle, neither of you having the slightest urge to just give it up although it looked like you were going to win when the brakes screeched, the van halting to a stop in the middle of the road.  You were at a bend with nothing but forest on either side so you could either step out with your pride, also bearing the possibility of becoming a news headline in the morning: ‘Girl found dead on side of the road’, or you could let him win this one and make it home in one piece.  

“Go on then.  You wanted to walk?  Have at it.”  Eddie gestures to the open road, very clearly unwalkable from this point.  You remained silent, contemplating your options.  “What?  I give you what you want and it's still not enough?”  He huffs in annoyance, head shaking.

“You did that on purpose.”  You mumble, barely audible but he catches it anyway.

“Did what?  Drive you home so you wouldn’t strangle Harrington?”  He was very clearly trying to push your buttons and he was going to end up being the one strangled if he kept it up.  

“You know what?”  The sound of your seatbelt clicking alerted him that you were about to hop out, your hand reaching for the door.  “You want me to be roadkill so bad?  Fine.”  And with that you stepped out into the crisp fall air, a light sprinkling of rain painting your skin as you stomped down the road.  

The van’s engine didn’t rumble which told you he hadn’t sped off yet, most likely watching in victory as you began your trek home.  The frigid air started to bite at your skin, your cheeks and nose beginning to hurt and lose feeling.  You didn’t get very far when you began to regret leaving the warmth of the van, you just had to pick this battle and now it seemed you lost in the end anyway.

It still hadn’t zoomed past you like you envisioned, only the sound of someone running behind you was heard which in all honesty only freaked you out even more.  This was the worst case scenario for how the night was supposed to end.  Maybe some serial killer had gotten Eddie and now you were their next victim.  A new headline flashed in your brain, something along the lines of ‘Young couple found murdered near the woods in Hawkins, Indiana’ and you nearly puked as you began sprinting, the downpour of rain becoming heavier as you did.  Lungs on fire, you forced yourself to keep going no matter how ridiculous the thoughts racing through your mind were.  Maybe it was the quickest way to get home after all, to imagine you were being hunted for sport the whole time.  The nightmare you conjured up quickly came to an end when you slammed into something firm, almost being knocked to the ground only to be stabilized by two hands gripping your arms.  Your eyes were shut tight, avoiding whatever fate was awaiting you.  Were you being dramatic?  Yes, however it couldn’t be helped especially being just next to the woods in nearly pitch black.  The basis for a classic horror film.

“Are you crazy!?  Get back in the van!  You’re gonna get killed out here, you can’t see shit.”  Much to your relief just this once, you were happy to open your eyes and find Eddie, out of breath with his curls dripping, a few sticking to his face.  

His eyes were more doe like than ever, staring down at you, the headlights from the van barely reaching the two of you allowing you to make out his features.  His stare flickered between you and the road urgently.  “If a car comes around the corner we’re fucked, LETS GO!”  If he had any remaining patience, it was gone because suddenly his arms wrapped around your legs and waist, throwing you over his shoulder without struggle, jogging back to the van as you were left breathless.  Ending up tossed over Eddie Munson’s shoulder was the last possible outcome you’d imagined tonight and yet here you were.

“Put me down!”  You still protested, delivering a firm smack to his shoulder blade.  If he obeyed, you had no plan so you weren’t sure what your motive was here however he continued on without so much as a flinch.

“Oh yeah, look what happened the last time I listened to you.  Had to fuckin’ chase you down.”  The passenger door was left open from when you took off as you glanced over Eddie’s shoulder.  

“You didn’t have to!  I could’ve made it home perfectly fine!”  You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that but you could sell the lie.  In your defense, he took a completely different route than what you had originally walked earlier in the day since you had to stop by the Byers’.

Suddenly you were placed in the passenger seat again, and not very gently either.  Eddie’s intense gaze only egged you on, returning the favor as you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.  

“Yeah?  You sure about that Roadkill?”  

You’d had it and there was very little if any fight left in you.  Teeth chattering and hair wet, you came to the realization that your clothes were almost completely soaked and before you could huddle in on yourself for warmth, a leather jacket was tossed at you before the passenger door was slammed shut, Eddie quickly returning to the driver’s side, a displeased expression remaining on his features as he shifted into drive.

–

Rain dotted the windshield and other than that and the squeaking of the wipers against the glass, it had been silent.  Five minutes had passed but it was easy to mistake it for five hours with how tense the air in the van was.  Eddie released a heavy and dramatic breath every so often and if he was searching for a reaction in you, you weren’t interested in partaking.  Home wasn’t far, you only needed to endure a couple more minutes in the stuffy but thankfully, warm confines of the vehicle.  

Maybe you were delirious, your brain muddled in the events of tonight because Eddie had finally been silent that full five minutes and you stupidly took it upon yourself to engage in further conversation.

“Roadkill?  Really?”  

The green traffic lights overhead created a glow around him, painting him almost like a picture, a renaissance painting you might even say.  If a renaissance painting could include a grumpy metalhead adorned in rings, tattoos, and a demonic t-shirt.  So no, not a renaissance painting and yet, you couldn’t find another way to phrase it in your mind.  Why?

“Roadkill.  That’s all you have to say?”  Offense lingered in his tone, his eyes glancing to you briefly.

Your body turned toward the door, even more than it already had been as you watched the scenery race by, deciding to go mute again.  There was no civil conversation with him, only snarky comments and full blown arguments.  

“Better than Socks.”  A smirk graces his lips when you turn to look back over at him and there was no way to tell if it was playful or cynical.  

Should you bite and comment back or should you remain ignorant?  You’d started it after all.  This time he wasn’t the one breaking silence to torture you, it was the other way around and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you yearned to instigate.

“I will not be called ‘Roadkill’ if that’s what you’re getting at.”  It was said cruelly however just beneath the surface, if he was intelligent enough to pull at the corners of your gaze with his, he may find a seed planted deep within your depths.  

Could it have been that the way he stepped in earlier was in some regard an olive branch?  Extended with the means to mend what was previously shattered beyond repair, an intention.  No.  It couldn’t be, not even in the slightest.  Because he was Eddie and you were you, this is how your stories were written and engraved into the margins of the universe.  That didn’t mean you didn’t wonder why he had been so tangled up in the ball of yarn that was your life for so long if not to infinitely cause an ache from wounds slashed into your soul years ago.

“I think you’ve definitely been upgraded from Socks to Roadkill.”  Though he was snarky there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Hell no.  If I’m Roadkill then what are you?”  Arms crossed, you shifted to turn your body further toward him, brow raised in expectancy.

“I don’t do nicknames.”  It was a short and simple answer and it simply wouldn’t do.

“You can’t just go by Munson, you need some kind of…some kind of earned name for some dumb shit you would do—or have done!”  You snap your fingers at him, a smile playing at your lips and he swears he hasn’t seen that kind of smile directed his way in years.  It’s enough to bring a flush of pink to his cheeks that he hopes is hidden by the darkness and won’t become evident under the street lights passing by.

“What, like running into the open road in the pitch black during the rain—at a bend in the road, might I add?”  

“Well…don’t—don’t even pretend I’ve done even half of the dumb shit you’ve done!”  That smile still pulls at your lips uncontrollably and he’s not sure if you’ve given up trying to hold it back or if you’re so beyond tired and delusional that you’ve forgotten who you were talking to.  Either way this moment would be burned into his memory, even if it would be the last time you’d offer him the upturn of your lips, even if you were sleep deprived and not in your right mind.  

You continue to ramble, searching your brain as he admires to the best of his ability while driving, eyes drifting from you to the road and back.  “Like—like the raccoon thing!  Yeah you’re Racoon Boy!”  

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “Really?  Racoon Boy?  That’s the best you can come up with?  Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Roadkill.”  

His criticism earned a glare from you but not the kind of glare he was so used to receiving from you.  This one held some kind of spark if he lingered long enough, large eyes beaming at you if you cared to notice.

“Okay well, a raccoon becomes Roadkill, right?.  If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  You decide.

Eddie doesn’t know why he has butterflies, all he knows is that the way you incorporated him into the phrase is making his palms sweat, just like when he was sixteen.  And the fact that you had even put his jacket on was something he never imagined in his wildest dreams.  Nevertheless, he keeps his cool.

“And you think I’m gonna stand for being called Roadkill?  You’re out of your mind.  Try again.”  His head shakes in disapproval.

“Oh please, would you rather be called Liar?”  Just like that everything reverted back to the way it was, as it intended to be.  

“Or Friend Fucker?”

He knew it was too good to be true, the way your eyes crinkled as you grinned just seconds ago, how you teetered on the brink of giggling as you attempted to conjure up a nickname for him, the sole fact that you were even trying to give him a nickname.  It was all a facade put on to deliver a blow of karma that he rightfully deserved and though it may not have been a facade on your part, he knew somehow the puppet strings controlled by the universe created this moment to torture him.  The air turned eerie, sour almost.  

Disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Because you didn’t know how wrong you were about him and yet he kept further providing reasons for you to keep believing it.

Suddenly he’s seventeen in the stairwell of the Harrington’s basement regretting every move made that night.  And you were sixteen trying to make sense of it all, asking yourself, why?

And now you were still begging the question, why?  Why did Steve have to ruin everything?  Why was Eddie still causing destruction even now?  After all, he played just as big of a part when you’d seen them both leaving the van, so why did you offer him the courtesy of bestowing a nickname upon him as if you were old friends?  As if he hadn’t taken your heart, played with it, made it beat for him all those years ago only to take a dagger to it and leave you bleeding and devoid of the ability to beat for anyone else.

Your apartment came into view, an escape from the toxic atmosphere that you’d tricked yourself into breathing in, under the illusion of sleep deprivation and wounded feelings.  This wasn’t some redemption arc for Eddie as you’d begun to imagine in your deliriousness, this was you caving in at a moment of fragility and venturing to the nearest soul in hopes to cling onto some of your sanity.  But what you failed to realize in your misconception was that there was not one soul to sympathize with in your agony.  As the van came to a stop, you dared to glance over once more.  His eyes looked almost black, the absence of sunlight keeping every brown hue hidden in the shadows which only further fed into the idea that he was cold and heartless.  And as you exhaled a final time into the void created between two opposing forces, you were hoping that would be the end of it, that he wouldn’t do as he normally did and fabricate a reason to fuel a never ending war.  But then again you never had faith in him in the first place.

“I’ve told you.  I’m not a liar.”  His nostrils flared, ringed hand tightly gripping the steering wheel once again.

“You’re not a liar?”

“Did I stutter?”

“What do you call it then when someone withholds the truth from you?  You’re saying that doesn’t make them a liar?”

Your name was muttered under his breath as if it were a curse.  “Dammit!  When will you just let it go!?”  His face contorted in anger, brows furrowed in misery.  “Why do you have to fucking hold on to this thing that happened ages ago!?  I never once lied to you and you keep trying to throw it back in my face!”

“Never once lied to me, right.”  You laughed, however there was no humor behind it.

“Do you know how many times we’ve had this argument?  Do you ever think maybe I keep fighting back because you’re wrong?”  

“Oh, I’m wrong!?  Was I wrong when I caught you and Steve just now in the parking lot?  Was I wrong about that too?  Was it my imagination when you planted one on Steve?  At least I’m not a fucking liar!”  Tears welled up in your eyes and you’d never forgive yourself for it but it was inevitable, the anger demanded to be poured from your eyes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I have never once lied to you.”  He sucked back his lip as if trying to hold himself back, fist now clenched in his lap.

“Another lie!”  You tried to stop them, oh how you tried but the tears began to trail down your cheeks one by one, sucking them back only did so much due to the overflow already gracing your waterline.  

Eddie debated digging up the old box in his heart that he locked up and swore off forever, promising to never let another soul touch it.  But he was Eddie and he didn’t know how to let others open him up, only knew how to push everything deeper until it was forgotten about and collecting dust.  All he could do was what he did best.  Shut down and push back.  He regretted inheriting even a sliver of the temper his father held.

“Get out.”  The demand was met with your wet eyes burning into him as he faced forward, gaze set straight ahead with no sign of meeting yours.  His jaw clenched, you could see him swallow.  Before you could offer any further comments, he caught you off guard.  “Get out.  Get the hell out.”  His arm was suddenly reaching over you to open the door, his damp curls tickling your cheek briefly until he was scowling at you from the driver’s side once again.  You remained sitting, not because you wanted to but because your brain simply refused to cooperate, leaving you staring dumbly at the floor of his van.  “Well, I’m not lying this time am I!?  Get out!”  

The way his voice raised made you wince and you had that gnawing feeling settling in your stomach and your chest.  Hands trembling, that random pang of anxiety began to take over and you wanted so badly to run and find some sense of comfort in your little apartment just upstairs but you were frozen.  The energy of the confrontation just endured shocked your nervous system and though you’d argued with Eddie before many times, it had to have been the build up throughout the night, the betrayal you’d experienced only adding that much more strain.  Everything was spiraling and it was as though a weight too heavy for anyone to carry was placed on your shoulders.  And you were left to bear it alone.  

Eddie stared expectantly, brow raised though he couldn’t catch your line of sight even if he tried, you were too in your head by this point and it seemed that the contents of the trashed floor was far more interesting however he was able to lower his head to catch the trace of fear—or maybe it wasn’t fear maybe it was loneliness topped off with uneasiness—either way he was able to detect it among your features and the way you were absent from the van, your mouth ajar and hands shaking in fists balled up at your sides.  Maybe he’d gone too far?  Or at least that was his initial conclusion but it didn’t make much sense seeing as you’d mouthed off to each other several times before and you’d both said things far worse.  Whatever the case, he knew he’d be laying on his lumpy mattress tonight wondering what he could’ve done differently.

“Shit.”  He mumbles while putting the van in park, undoing his seatbelt and inching the slightest bit closer to you.  “You still with me?”  It came out shakier than he’d intended, not really having the knowledge of what to do.  Sure he knew what he’d need to do for himself for the most part if it were him but comforting others was not something he specialized in.  Was it even comfort you needed?  He didn’t know, but there was something wrong and your body language was telling him that you were stuck in some kind of a panic.  

But before he could even make a decision on how to proceed, you’d snapped out of it right before his eyes, a wobbly breath escaping you before your eyes darted up to his wide ones.  He was too close for your liking, and far too close for someone who had just yelled at you to get the hell out.  It was frigid, the air from outside stinging your cheeks as the door remained open.  In the blink of an eye you were gone, your feet carrying you up the cement stairs of the complex and away from him, his jacket still engulfing your frame, sleeves falling over your hands and slapping against your legs as you scurried.  You hadn’t bothered to shut the door in your quick departure, raindrops finding their way onto the fabric of the seat and covering the interior.  At the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you momentarily with your head in your hands before you rounded the corner and disappeared.  If he never saw his jacket again because it provided you with warmth, well he figured that would be just fine.  

“If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  He muttered with his eyes glued to the ceiling.

—

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Munson, did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, what’re you looking to buy?”

“What?  You brought everything?”

“Just about, what’s your poison?”

Eddie rummaged through the little black metal box full of various substances, naming each one aloud to the jock that had spotted him across the living room, the music bumping as he shouted over it.  Was his name Ben?  Brady?  Eddie couldn’t recall and if he’s honest, he didn’t really care.  The only time the guy acknowledged his existence was to buy from him at whatever party they happened to be at.  This time it was Steve Harrington’s ugly Christmas sweater party, the second one in the making of an annual event.  Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those nasty sweaters with bells and tinsel but he certainly had no problem with making money off of the spoiled rich kids who would pay out the ass to pop a pill and let loose for the night.  And so he found himself lingering in the dark corner of the living room, awaiting those who would recognize him, giving them their fix in exchange for a fat stack of cash.  They seemed pathetic in his eyes, all decorated in their multi patterned sweaters with all kinds of crap dangling off of them, fiending for a high as they kept their interaction with him as minimal as possible.  It wasn’t his business though, his business was to sell and collect until his supply ran out and if he thought hard enough about it, both parties were doing the same song and dance of quick exchanges with not a smidge of regard for the other’s presence once the deal was done.  That’s just how it was and he wasn’t going to complain so long as he got paid.

So he sold Ben–whatever his name was, a few grams of weed and some ecstasy.  That guy would forget Eddie’s existence until the next party.  That or until he wanted to buy some more weed from him at school.  The guy was relatively mellow with Eddie when alone but once other senior jocks were in the equation they threw every name in the book at him and tried to make his life hell.  Key word, tried.  Eddie was tough and a few names were nothing, hell even the few times he’d been jumped by them in the school parking lot didn’t phase him.  You learn to pick your battles when your dad is the antagonist of your life.  That didn’t mean he didn’t lash out every now and then at them, cause he did.  He just knew which fights were worth a black eye and bloody knuckles and which ones to surrender on, let them shove him around a little bit, maybe take a kick to the ribs and then move on.  The less he struggled against them, the quicker they would get bored and call him a slur before marching off with their chests puffed out.  

It was only nine, the night was still young and he had already made enough to sneak a good amount into his Uncle Wayne’s wallet with enough leftover to pay for the week’s groceries.  He’d sooner just put the money into his own bank account and transfer it to Wayne’s but his old man was old fashioned and stuck mainly to cash.  That cash would usually go toward utilities if Eddie already handled the groceries.  By the end of the night he should have made enough of a profit to buy that new part for the van he was fixing up.  He’d made a deal with the guy at the junkyard that if he could get it working and get it the hell off his lot that it was his.  Sure it was an older model, a little rusty with a funky smell clinging to the interior but he could make anything work and he’d rather drive that than keep borrowing his uncle's pickup truck or hitch a ride with someone.  It just wasn’t reliable and he had his own agenda though he’d never tell Wayne exactly what that agenda was.  As far as he knew, Eddie was working odd jobs around town, repairing the neighbor’s sink, mowing lawns, fixing cars.  It wasn’t a lie–it was just that according to Wayne it generated a suspiciously large income.  Eddie always insisted his charm was a contributing factor and the moms up in the fancy neighborhoods would pay him extra for being ‘so sweet’.  Which wasn’t a lie either.  Those moms knew of his reputation but were reaching the point of their mid-life crisis and it seemed they were willing to do anything for a smidge of excitement while their boring husbands left for a business trip every other week.  He never entertained them past telling them how wonderful they looked.  But he would never admit outright to his uncle that he had been in contact with Rick who his dad had been involved with before going to prison.  Now it seemed at only seventeen he was following the same path however it was to keep food on the table and the strain of all of the financials off of Wayne’s aching back.  ‘This is different.’  He’d keep telling himself that but sometimes he’d look in the mirror and his father would be staring right back at him.

Becoming bored with the clientele of the living room corner, he made the decision to migrate to the hall just near the basement door.  There was heavy foot traffic and a possibility that he could sell out the rest of his supply in minutes to those desperate enough for a good time.  Leaning against the wall, he heard shouts from the basement, a beer pong game with high stakes no doubt.  A younger kid, most definitely a freshman shuffled by with six unopened beers clinking together in his arms and without drawing any attention to himself, Eddie snatched the one that was just seconds away from toppling over onto the floor.  It went unnoticed as the freshman continued down the hall toward the back door, a satisfying crisp snap filling his ears as he opened the stolen beer.  As the fizzy ale met his lips, he was grateful it was cold with condensation collecting on the glass since the house was stuffy and hot despite the contrasting weather outside.

In about ten minutes he’d sold almost everything, people were drawn to him like a moth to flame, knowing he was the go to for anything good.  It always sucked trying to get rid of the last of it, which made the night even longer since he just wanted to be done and leave.  Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and a dip in the Harrington’s pool seemed like heaven right about now even in the freezing cold snow.  He was just about ready to give up and head down to the basement to start marketing his product to the rowdy football boys so he could get out of the muggy hallway when he caught someone’s gaze from the opposite end of the hall.  The only person he really hoped to see at this dumb party and he was intuitive enough to know that she would show up due to her friendship with King Steve.  Before he knew it she was making her way toward him, dodging other teenagers.

You kept your eyes on him throughout the several people in the way, reaching him being your only goal for the moment while Nancy and Robin–the new girl with the pretty blue eyes and freckles–rolled their eyes at your gawking and patiently waited while you wandered away.  It was loud but you tuned out everything as you took in his curls, longer than they were last year when you’d first noticed him.  He still seemed to be growing it out, brunette locks now covering his ears and a few hanging in his eyes as he bowed his head but still kept his focus on you.  You’d seen him just last week at school but you were only now noticing the progress on his hair growth, usually too enamored in his molasses pools of eyes.  He wore his standard getup, a black leather jacket, black jeans with a few holes, and some black boots.  Maybe it was the single shot you’d taken with Nancy and Robin back in the kitchen but he was looking especially handsome and you feared your heart was going to leap out of your chest right in front of him.

“Thought you swore off parties.”  You shouted over the bass vibrating the house.

Shaking the little metal box he held at you, you understood that he was ‘working’.  

“Parties are my biggest sellers so I couldn’t really keep my word on that one.”  

“Fair enough.”  You leaned your shoulder against the same wall he leaned his back on, turned toward him with all of your attention solely on him right now.

“Was just about to get outta here though.  I got roughly enough for one last sale, just need to find someone to bite.”  Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced around for any takers but still found no success.

“Well, what do you have?”  Your innocent eyes stared up at him, your ridiculous Christmas sweater being the only one he actually liked out of the hundreds he had seen that night.  

“I don’t sell to children.”  He teases.  You were only a year younger after all.

“I am not a child!  You’re a year older, c’mon!  What do you have?”  You whined, bouncing on your toes.

“No way, sweetheart.  I have the right to refuse service and I’m refusing yours.”  A smirk graced his lips as he turned his body toward you, mirroring your stance as you each leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Munson-”

“Nope, closed for business.”  Tucking the little metal box under his leather jacket as if to hide it from your view, you playfully shoved at his shoulder.  

“I guess I’ll just have to get my weed from some other sketchy guy.”  You sighed dramatically.

“Whoa whoa, are you calling me sketchy?  I’ll have you know I am probably the least sketchy drug dealer you could hope for.”  He showed fake offense in the knitting of his brows and a hand thrown over his chest.

“I dunno, that sounds like something a sketchy drug dealer would say.”  

His eyes squinted at you in thought and he was definitely not going to sell you drugs however he could extend you an offer.

“How about…I keep a joint with your name on it on supply and you come get me when you wanna smoke?”  

Before you were able to answer, a group of jocks came tumbling into the hallway, one of them bumping into you particularly hard in his drunken state.  Eddie had already intervened before you could tell him that it was okay and that you were sure it was an accident.  

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!”  

His hand shoved the muscular guy back with no problem and had that guy not been completely wasted, a fight would’ve broken out but it seemed he couldn't register what was going on as he began roughhousing with one of his friends once again, thankfully making their way into the basement.  

“I-uh-how–how much?”  You stuttered, ignoring the interruption.

His plush lips tightened before his tongue darted out, one of his nervous habits.

“Share it with me and we’ll call it good.”  Your heart fluttered, face heating.

It was flirting.  It was in your face, outright, one hundred percent flirting and yet you couldn’t let yourself believe it.  He was just being friendly.  Because boys didn’t like you like that, they never have and they probably never will.  Especially the one in front of you who everyone warned you against associating yourself with.  It never stopped you from talking with him in the classes you shared or waving to him in the halls, him always returning the favor.  Your experiences clearly indicated that he wasn’t always rough around the edges like everyone said, he was actually a sweetheart with a lot of nerdy tendencies.  At least that's what you learned from your shared time at school.  There were select occasions outside of school such as previous parties where he’d sell that you would approach him with a shy smile and he would be as charming as always.  And there were times where he led you to think that maybe, just maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.  But you’d never act on it, having never even had a boyfriend before so what experience was there to guide you?  He was one of the only boys to offer you that kind of attention but it was never expected of you to cross a boundary and he let you take the lead, accounting for your bashfulness and fully realizing that he couldn’t just hook up with you and leave it at that.  Because there was something else there and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was.  

“Well, I have to pay.  Seriously, how much?”

His arm was braced against the wall as he leaned toward you, breath fanning over your cheek, you didn’t even mind the smell of beer filling your nose.  

“Your money’s no good here.”  His dimples had you hypnotized.

“That’s not fair.”  You breathed, your eyes sparkling while looking up at him. 

“No?”

“No.”

“Alright Munson, quit hitting on my friend.  You got any weed left or are you done here?”  

Steve Harrington was going to get a mouthful from you later.

–

Present Day

You’d never existed in that van if anyone were to ask, not that they would.  It had been the shittiest night you’d experienced in a good while.  The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even call Robin or Steve to rant to them about how shitty of a night it was because they were part of the reason.  Loneliness was the most debilitating illness and it was conquering you from the inside out.  Sure you could probably confide in Jonathan but your brain was screaming at you to suffer alone.  No one else needed to be bothered by your whining when they had their own lives to live.  This was now between you and yourself.  

Living in a small town had never been such an issue.  Working in the same coffee shop as your best friends as well as your biggest enemy was proving to be a stupid idea but you were in no position to change jobs, not when you could barely make rent and no other jobs would have the flexibility to keep you around with your class schedule.  Plus no one was even hiring, they’d already secured their seasonal hires.  So back to the drawing board you went.  No more arriving at work early, minimizing the chance of interaction with Steve and Robin and keeping to yourself your entire shift as a means to tune Eddie out no matter how hard he would try and press your buttons.  It was going to be hell but what other option did you have at this point in time?  There was always the choice to drop out of college but then that’d be a waste of a scholarship you’d received based on your low income in combination with a well written essay your senior year.  Senior year you would punch you in the face if you dropped out all because of the poorly thought out actions of others.  All that hard work down the drain for a couple of dumbasses?  Absolutely not.  

No.  You were not going to alter your life just because of them.  Although it felt you were being somewhat dramatic, you weren’t going to let this go.  It was as if they’d isolated you and laughed about it behind your back.  Left you in the dark and giggled to each other about how pathetic you were.  No one should ever have to endure this pain, especially not at the hands of the people who you’d thought mattered to you most but seemingly proved that they were just like everyone else.  You figured you still had the kids but then quickly remembered whose house they mainly hung out at and it left you defeated.  At least you could always stop in at the Byers, that much you knew.  Even so, you didn’t want to bother them with the sudden friendship politics, it seemed childish on your part and Will definitely didn’t need to hear you complain about the other two people he looked up to.  That was not a road you were willing to go down, he’d had enough of seeing adults bicker to last several lifetimes and you already vowed to shield him from any more of it.

That night was honestly even more awful the second your back hit your shitty mattress.  Sobs racked your body and it was nearly enough to make you throw up.  Nearly.  You held it down but still dry heaved, curled up in a ball like a loser while everyone else seemed fine.  The cherry on top was the way Eddie clawed at old wounds, your guts may as well have left a bloody trail from the street where he dropped you off all the way up the stairs to your apartment.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that he yelled at you to get out of his van that was inducing the vomit rising in the back of your throat.  It certainly contributed but what brought the taste of bile to your tongue was the way that you’d bantered for a split second just like in high school—when there was a chance.  When you were naive and sadly mistaken.  A love sick puppy for a boy who had only misled you and mistreated you.  You suppose some of the blame could’ve been on you, letting yourself fall harder and harder each time you’d seen his contagious smile in the halls and in class.  You know how they say some people peak in high school?  Well you could say that you hit rock bottom which to be honest, felt far more embarrassing than peaking.  All because of a stupid boy.  

Was this really what you’d become?  A sorry excuse of a woman muffling sobs into your pillow over some mistakenly split open feelings for a boy—now a man still taunting your everyday life?  Why did he have this power over you all of the sudden?  For the past few years you had felt nothing but disgust for him and now it felt like you were dealing with the heartbreak all over again, as if that night happened just hours ago.  

And Steve had practically spit on the heartbreak that he’d witnessed before his eyes.  That he’d helped nurse you through, drying your tears with countless tissues, lending his shoulder to cry on.  That version of him was flushed down the drain the minute he stepped out of that damn van.  Where you used to see kind and caring brown eyes with that sympathetic wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, you now saw betrayal in human form.  

—

The smudged mirror of the public bathroom in Hawkins Community did little to enhance any beauty you may have held at some point.  It only added to your dark under eyes, hues of purple beneath the skin along with a puffy redness from non stop crying.  To sum it up, you looked swollen and you were sorry to anyone that had to witness the sight.  The cool water you splashed on your face from the sputtering faucet didn’t do as much as the internet said it would.  If anything you only looked worse but now your nerves were shocked from the temperature change.  You had to get over yourself eventually, just suck it up and go to work.  

With one last wipe of a gritty paper towel, your nose raw from constantly wiping snot away, you gave up the pity party and forced yourself out of the depressing, poorly lit bathroom.  A push of the germy door with your shoulder has you moving on to brave the rest of the day—the hard part of the day.  The part that you’d dreaded and played out in your mind like a projector on a screen.  Every scenario laid out before you like a deck of cards and so unsure of which one would become your fate.  

The sky looked an eerie gray, more rain expected to accompany that morning's light drizzle, casting the hallways in a darker light than they usually led on.  It was beyond you that you kept leaving your umbrella at home when rain was almost always on the forecast these days.  You suppose the sky reflected your mood and that was fair enough.  

Stepping outside as the metal door slammed shut behind you, your skin erupted in goosebumps, wind swirling in your hair as mother nature declared its fury in thunderous echoes in the sky.  It was only a fifteen minute walk, just endure the unusually strong winds and keep on, that’s what you told yourself.  Things can’t get any shittier, they just can’t.  

—

Slowly The Under-Ground came into view as did the downtown square where not one person lingered due to the weather.  Each bench was devoid of its regular users and it seemed like a ghost town more than anything.  The faint smell of chimney smoke crossed your senses and it only made you wish you’d be able to just cozy up next to a fire and forget this cursed timeline you were in.  You could just imagine the families in their homes just a few blocks over, probably preparing for dinner in their well manicured kitchens while their kids enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and watched a wholesome movie.  What you’d give to be in their position again.  Young and free of responsibility.  

Fat rain drops began to paint the pavement and you thanked whatever higher power that it had waited until you arrived at work to unleash the beginnings of what seemed to be a storm.  You now only bargained with Mother Nature that it would be kind enough to let up by the time your shift ended.  The Fall rain seemed to be treating Hawkins extra cruelly this year.  

You’d scurried as fast as you could to the front French doors of the shop, swinging one open as the bell chimes above and a blanket of warmth cocoons you, allowing you to take in the rich, chocolatey smell of a recently warmed brownie mixed with notes of espresso.  It was 4:55 PM, just five minutes shy of when your shift was supposed to start, aiming to keep it as close as possible to avoid Steve and Robin the best you could.

There wasn’t a single customer in sight, a brief whiff of bleach filling your nose as you walked by a ‘Caution Wet’ sign propped in the middle of the floor.  You didn’t even give whoever was behind the counter so much as a glance as you kept your focus on the floor, making your way toward the back to hopefully avoid everyone so you could set your things in your locker and prepare yourself for your shift.  The typical jazzy music played over the speakers and you could just barely hear a whisper of what had to be Robin’s voice directed at Steve.  Something along the lines of ‘fix it, right now’.  If she was referencing what you suspected, she was naive to think that Steve could just ‘fix it’ right here right now.  In your eyes she was practically telling him to slap a band-aid onto a bloody gash that would actually require a severe amount of stitches.  

Your gaze remained glued to the dark tiled floor, the grout interesting you more than the hushed conversation between two traitors.  The hope was to ignore any and all attempts to make amends at this point in time on Steve’s part.  And to dodge any reasoning Robin tried to sprinkle on top.  But hopes are often lost and before you could reach the back, Steve’s scuffed Adidas forced their way into your line of sight.  Your name fell from his tongue like an apology that you were far from accepting.

“Listen, can we-can we talk?”  He sounded as if he was begging for his life and you were too mad to look into his eyes to further read him.  

All you offered was a scoff as you tried to push past him however he stood in your way, a bold move for someone on such thin ice.  

“Please?”  His head ducked down in an effort to meet your eyes, succeeding for a mere second where you caught that stupid sympathetic wrinkle in between his eyebrows and his apologetic stare.  It didn’t work this time.

“Move.”  You were stern as you bit your lip to keep from showing any kind of emotion.

“We have to talk about it—“

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”  You snapped bitterly.

Robin seemed to understand to keep her mouth shut in this instance, she knew this wasn’t some dumb disagreement that you’d end up laughing about at the end of the day.  This was grounds for a possible severed bond.  So there she stood, wide eyed as she pretended to clean the already sparkling countertop, blue polish chipping from her nails as she gripped the rag with apprehension. 

And Steve seemed to know his place as he stepped aside, comprehending that he would not make much progress with you right now and that you may not even forgive him ever.  It terrified him but what could he do?  He fucked up and he was suffering the damages, a far greater loss than his selfish needs were worth.  Respecting your boundaries was the most he could do right now and it gutted him from the inside out.

You were lucky that only a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheek, your skilled ability to not cry in public proving very useful in the moment.  Wiping it away with dignity, you proceeded to the back room, only wishing to have a minute alone to recover before having to put on a facade.  Your locker was your only target but you’d fumbled as your mind worked quicker than your legs, bag flying off of your shoulder and spilling out a tube of mascara, a half eaten bag of chips, and a few papers from an assignment you’d tried to work on last night to take your mind away from the endless sobbing.  It felt as though the dark clouds outside were following you and wreaking more havoc than could handle.  Quickly, you scooped up each item and shoved them back in your bag, a few curses uttered under your breath and when you were about to push yourself up off the sticky ground, you were met with a pair of abyss-like brown eyes.  

He was tying his decked out apron around his waist, looking down at you with concern.  You hadn’t even seen him upon first walking in, his presence residing in the corner of the room where it seemed he placed his helmet on the window sill farthest from the door.  He was early.  And he was never early.  Without a word between you, his hands were up in surrender as he spun back around towards the window, back facing you as he pulled a pen from the apron and seemed to scribble on something.  The interaction seemed strange as he didn’t offer some insult about how clumsy you were.  And you didn’t snap at him the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seeing him still made you beyond upset but the tension in the air carried something far more complicated that you couldn’t distinguish.  So you left it, swinging open your locker and snatching your apron before shoving your bag inside, the metal clanking noisily as you did.  A breeze brushed past you while you secured your apron to your satisfaction and when you finally glanced behind you, Eddie was no longer in the room.  

Patting at your pockets dumbly for your phone before departing out to the front, you were having trouble locating the device.  You double checked your bag but no success, even feeling around the inside of the locker just in case.  It wasn’t until you turned around that you realized you must have abandoned it on the foldable break room table in your uncoordinated walk earlier.  And there it was sitting atop the table—with a steaming to-go cup next to it?  Surely that wasn’t there before, you would have definitely knocked it over with how close it was to your phone and how ungraceful you were in your movements.  You were starting to question how insane you were going with everything swirling around in your brain since last night, did you make yourself a coffee in the midst of Steve trying to coax you into a conversation?  That must have been it.

Except as you further inspected, there was some kind of writing on the side of the cup.  Scribbled in black sharpie was a single word.  And realization hits you like a train when you read it.  

“Roadkill”

~end~

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Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface

[imaginary-things-nothing-else]

Masterpost of Finished Fanfics, Current WIPs and Future WIPs

Everything listed here is a (mostly) fully formed story with at least some kind of plot going on. I have many, many story concepts in my head that could turn into actual stories, but for the moment, these are the fully formed ones that are most prominently bopping around in my head. 

Current Work in Progress (CWIP) = The story I am currently posting or working on as my main wip.

Future Work in Progress (FWIP) = The story I hope to work on next.

I will be separating these by fandom under the cut.

Dadneto/XMCU

1. Pictures In My Head [Currently being updated weekly]: Erik arrives at the school for the first time since he left after X-Men Apocalypse. Peter struggles with becoming comfortable around his father and with the idea of telling him that he’s his son. Also there’s a new Brotherhood that’s formed in the meantime.  2. We don’t talk about Erik (FWIP): Loosely based on Encanto’s “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” song. Not a songfic. It takes a look at Peter and Wanda and their relationship with the concept of their father when they were young. Featuring a much bigger Maximoff family with uncles, aunts and cousins.  3. Untitled Dadneto fanfics: Three different fanfics, each focusing on Peter, Wanda and Lorna and their relationships with Erik. Set in the far future where Peter is married to Crystal and Luna is 5 years old.  4. you’re the one I wanna go through time with (CrySilver Romance): A prequel to the above three fanfics focusing on Peter and Crystal’s relationship going from their initial meetings to their marriage and having Luna. It also includes Wanda’s introduction into the XMCU. (Disclaimer: Crystal is much different than her comic book counterpart, and Wanda is not MCU Wanda, she is my own character more based of her comics version.) 5. Untitled Lorna and Peter fanfic: When Lorna shows up at the mansion revealing that Erik is her father, Peter is shocked to find someone in the same situation as him and is glad to have a sister again. Will Lorna be able to convince him to also come clean to Erik? Focuses a lot on Lorna and Peter’s relationship. Wanda is dead rip 6. Untitled First Class AU: What if Erik knew about Peter and Wanda and had to babysit them for a day at the mansion while the X-Men are training in First Class? 7. Father and Son: A Dadneto Anthology: This is just a bunch of Dadneto reveals. I have so many different ideas for reveals and I figured I could just put them all in one place since not all of them have turned into fully fledged fanfics.

Miraculous Ladybug

1. The Color of Your Eyes [COMPLETED]: Marinette writes a letter about her date with Adrien to Chat Noir late at night. A songfic. Originally posted on my main blog. 2. A Kitten for Chat Noir: Chat Noir feels lonely and finds himself bonding with an abandoned kitten one snowy night.  3. 20 Questions: Ladybug and Chat Noir decide to reveal their identities and start by playing 20 questions. 

Marvel Comics

I do have another sideblog @just-a-local-lunatic​ where I will be posting most of these first since that is my Marvel Comics sideblog, but I will be reblogging them here.

1. Untitled FrankLuna series: All of the fics listed below are part of this story. Basically it is a long series that will follow Franklin Richards and Luna Maximoff and how they develop and fall in love. 2. Kidnapped...Again [COMPLETED]: Franklin Richards and Luna Maximoff get kidnapped...again. Posted originally on my FrankLuna sideblog.  3. Of Siblings and Sea Monsters: When the Fantastic Four are taken by a sea monster, Franklin and Valeria must enlist the help of Namor the Sub-Mariner.  4. Home Alone: Franklin, Valeria and the Future Foundation get left home alone. Disaster strikes. Obviously.  5. Of Latveria and Libraries: Franklin and his first crush, Sara Jessen, do a school report on Latverian history. 

Miscellaneous

1. burning stars: A Narnia/Silver Chair fanfic about Prince Rilian adjusting to life after being rescued by Jill and Eustace and learning how to live and love again.  2. Untitled Jeyna fanfic: A story where Reyna fights Death to get Jason back from the Underworld based on the concepts of myth of Alcestis.  3. Untitled Post TROS Reylo fanfic : Rey goes on a long quest to find a way to bring Ben Solo, the other half of her soul, back to life. Along the way she makes new friends and runs into old ones. Not a retcon of The Rise of Skywalker, mainly canon compliant.  4. In Which Megan Comes To Ingary: Set in the Howl’s Moving Castle book universe and set after the third book, House of Many Ways. About Megan and Howl’s relationship, their past and their future as siblings. Also a bit of mystery around who their father was. 

Side Note:

I also have a writing account on Instagram where I write my original stories if you’re interested. Here is a link for it. And here is a link to my AO3. 

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So if there is a certain story you’d like to ask me about or that you’d like me to write next, please use the ask box! I would love to hear from you!

With all that done, currently, I am in the process of posting pictures in my head and working on drafting We Don’t Talk About Erik.  

[beelmons]

Escapade 5

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex, reader drinks a bit of alcohol. Summary: The case gets stuck, but Spencer is by your side to keep you going. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: this one doesn't have as much action ifykwim, mostly plot building, but bear with me, lots of action coming. Tag list: @punkndisorderrly @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @amywright

Ever heard the expression ‘do not speak ill of the dead’? One of the most misunderstood sayings in the english language, if you were to say so yourself. Through the many years of working in law enforcement, you had come to realize that all it took for the most heinous, horrendous, and evil crimes to go away in the minds of the people was no other than dying.

The interviews didn’t take you anywhere. Every agent was a god-sent angel in the eyes of their loved ones. No criminal record, no wrong-doings, model citizens if someone were to ask you. No additional disappearances or deaths, either, the UnSub had gone dormant, which meant two things: first, the good news, it indicated the possibility that your friend and the HR clerk were probably still alive. Second, for the bad part, without any more victims, getting new leads would be difficult, and the risk of the case going cold was greater.

—We need to go back to victimology. —Emily pointed out.

—If we go over victimology one more time, I will hand in my resignation. —Morgan answered— we have two bodies, no forensic evidence, no clear M.O. other than the deaths being sloppily staged as a suicide, and the only thing linking these people so far, it’s that they were all part of the same FBI academy class. 

—Okay, what about the profile? —JJ asked.

—We can only have a draft for now, the information we’ve got is not enough. —Rossi responded— We know it’s gotta be someone who is reckless or imbalanced, hence why he got kicked out of the academy, but smart enough to be admitted as a trainee in the first place. He has criminology knowledge, yet that can be easily explained by his time as a trainee. 25 to 35 years old. Underachiever. Narcissistic. Mission oriented…

—So, our average weirdo. —Penelope interrupted him, and Rossi nodded in disappointment.

Everyone’s spirit seemed to be down. Empty containers of chinese food laid on top of the round table mixed with files and gruesome crime scenes pictures. No one was paying attention anymore. Hotch decided to look at the time, it was close to midnight. It had been the third night in a row the team had put in the extra hours, not that it was anything out of the ordinary, but the burn out was evident.

—Alright, everyone, let’s go home. —the boss commanded.

—Hotch, we’re not any closer to finding these men. —the muscular man mentioned.

—We’re not doing ourselves any favors by exhausting our energy. Unfortunately, we won’t have much to go on until…

—Until another victim turns up? —you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

—I understand it’s hard, but that’s usually how profiling works. —everyone shot you a look at his words, mostly trying to make sure you still felt okay. You simply sighed and shrugged the question off. Aaron kept staring to figure out your emotions, but given the time, and the fact that you were also exhausted, he decided it was better to not profile you— We’ll come in at 10, make sure to rest well, we’ll start fresh tomorrow and, hopefully, we’ll be able to see something new.

The team began to gather their belongings, and one by one gave you a reassuring pat on the back before they exited the building. Hotch and Reid were the only ones left while you were still on your desk, reluctantly putting your stuff in your bag to go home.

—Are you going down? —your boss asked, his briefcase already dangling from his hand, your best friend standing next to him.

—Uh, you can go ahead —you replied— I have to do something, but I’ll be right down. —with that said, you stood up and directed yourself to the bathroom. The two men exchanged puzzled glances and sighed in defeat.

You took your time staring at your own reflection. You looked like hell, gently put. You hadn’t slept much. Mixed feelings and thoughts haunting the possibility of unconsciousness every night since his disappearance. You knew it was their job, but the truth was that your team was working extra-hard to help you through it, and you hadn’t been exactly the most pleasant companion during the investigation. Your hostility towards Hotch was unfunded, his patience with you even more so, and you knew you would have to apologize later.

There was no use beating yourself over it now, but you just couldn’t go and rest while your friend’s body could turn up at any minute. You threw some cold water over your face to scare off the drowsiness and decided to head back to the round table. To your surprise, a familiar shape was already sitting on his usual spot during morning meetings.

—What are you still doing here, Reid? —you asked. His head immediately raised to meet your eyes with a faint smile.

—I knew you would stay behind. Figured you could use some company.

—Well, you could use some sleep.

—I had a very heavy dinner, the kitchen’s coffee pot is filled to the brim with espresso, and if I need a nap, I’ll just take Morgan’s couch. —his talking was fast, not allowing for you to interrupt him at any second, and once he was done, he signaled to the chair next to him which already had an open file before it.

You rolled your eyes at his persistence. However, you knew that deep down you were just trying to deflect the warmth that it spread to your chest, but at last you decided to obey his command. Within seconds, both of your heads were buried in FBI files. You decided to go back to victimology, and after an hour of rolling over it, you had come to the same conclusions as earlier that week. Frustrated, you threw the folder on the table, letting it shut close, and you leaned back on your chair, a loud huff leaving your lips as you stared at the ceiling.

—This was dumb, we’re not getting anywhere. Let’s just call it a night. —you spurted out in disappointment.

—Come on, we can still crack something new. —Spencer said without looking up from the paper he was reading.

—Perhaps these were just victims of opportunity. Nothing about this makes sense. The only person who sticks out is Conrad, and even so, he was just a DC police desk clerk, who would have a problem with him? —you continued to complain, part of it was directed to yourself, still angered that you hadn’t been able to figure it out. After seconds of silence, you realized Spencer hadn’t added anything to the conversation, and so you turned to look at him. To your surprise, he was already intently looking at your expression with pity written on his face, which took you aback— What?

—Nothing. It’s just… —he made a quick pause— I know you’re fond of him, but during the entire investigation you haven’t really mentioned him much.

He was right. You had refrained yourself from saying his name. You figured, maybe, if you held to the same hope the families did, if you kept him frozen in your memories, if you remembered him as your old friend, and not as a victim, he would remain as such, and the next day he would be safe and sound, like he had been years ago. Your brows furrowed and your hands went back to the table.

—You don’t expect doctors to get sick, right? What kind of agent am I if I can’t keep safe the very people I wanted to protect in the first place? —you said, pain vibrating in your voice. 

—Only that doctors do get sick.

—Yeah, I guess you are right. —your tone dropped at his observation, sadness taking over you instead.

—Can I ask you something rather personal? —Reid inquired once he realized the emotions he had stirred. You raised your eyebrows curiously, but nodded in agreement anyways— How come you hadn’t contacted him in so long? I mean, I know this job can get in the way of many things, but not even a phone call?

Yes, Spencer was bad at fixing unfortunate comments. Yet, he wasn’t wrong. There were many reasons to not look back at your old pal, to not seek him after, but just as one shall not speak ill of the dead, you had refused to go over the bad memories that would taint the image you had of him. Nonetheless, there was no fooling Spencer, not only because he was a human lie detector, but because he knew you better than anyone else.

—Have you ever looked back and realized you didn’t really like the person you were? —your elbow propped on the table and your cheek rested on your palm to be looking at Spencer. You watched as he took a quick glance at his forearm, and he cleared his throat before he nodded; reality hit you that he was probably remembering the time he struggled with addiction, and you felt a wave of guilt in you, paired with intense pride. He had overcome it almost by himself, but before you allowed your mind to sink deep into the marvelous being Spencer Reid was, you continued your story. —He guided me through my first days of the academy, I was new to Virginia, everything was scary. He became my best friend, I trusted him, during tactical missions, during exams, he had my back, I had his.

—Then what happened? —he asked once you stopped to gather your breath.

—He was holding me back. —you admitted out loud for the first time in your life, him being the first person you have ever told this to— Gideon was teaching a mental disorders assessment class back then, and I got really into it, and so did Conrad, but I was the one who formed rapport with Jason, a friendship really, and so he would help me outside of class, show me additional techniques and cases, he introduced me to Hotch, all while Conrad was struggling to pass his S.W.A.T certifications.

—We met around that time. —he pointed out, smiling a bit to himself. 

—Right, I was doing research for a class and Gideon showed me around the office, and he ended up introducing us. I met Morgan as well, and Elle was still here. —you smiled as you recalled your first time within these walls— See? I was going places, I was trying to start my career, I really wanted to be hired as a Special Agent, and so did Conrad, no matter what it took. Before the final tactical exam, we had to take the mental disorders assessment test. He was already engaged back then, you know? And I knew he was having problems with his fiancé, he came to me, he said he was feeling depressed, and he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t turn up on his assessment, that it was temporary until things got better. He asked me to make a mock test from him, since I surely had access to the test beforehand.

—Because we, the BAU, were the ones who made the questions. —Spencer mentioned in a sudden realization, and you nodded ashamedly.

—I had already taken mine, and so I told Gideon I wanted to quote it for my research, and he gave me a copy. Conrad took it, I went over his answers, and I taught him what to change in order to pass the evaluation.

—Did you ever tell Gideon?

—No. —you shook your head— I knew him enough to understand he would have ended my career then and there, and if anyone were to find out now, I could have my badge taken away. 

—What were the results? —he asked with genuine curiosity, although disapprovingly shaking his head.

—Lack of social skills, narcissistic tendencies, present sociopathy-related traits. He would have never gotten a badge; he wouldn’t have even been allowed to do the final tactical exam if it weren’t for me.

—You put a lot at risk for him. —he paused as if he was trying to find the right way to phrase his next question— Why?

—He was my partner, I felt like I had a duty to protect him. —you reached over to land a hand on his shoulder— Like I have protected you, and will continue to protect you. 

—Yeah, but I would never ask you to do anything like that. I wouldn’t jeopardize your dreams for my own sake. 

—I know. —you said sincerely— It was stupid and reckless. But it made me realize something important; that it didn’t matter how much I cared for Conrad, he needed me more than I needed him, I was going to be okay on my own. After he got married, I figured, well, he’s someone else’s problem now, you know?

Your latter sentence felt a lot more relaxed, and you said it in a half-heartedly joking manner. You realized, however, that Spencer had stopped paying attention somewhere along the way, his lips were parted open, and he had that dissociated look in his eyes.

—Needed him more…—he mumbled as he reached out for Conrad’s file—That’s it!

—What’s it? —you asked as you watched him stand up away from your reach and toward the board.

—Think about it, you’re an Unsub, if your purpose is to kill, why would you keep someone around?

—Well, —you took a second to rack your brain— if they were the object of my rage, I would torture them first.

—But there’s no record of sadism, in fact, both deaths so far have been rather painless. He hasn’t killed Carlos or Conrad because he needs them to get to the real object of his rage. —he began to speak faster by the second— We know he’s targeting FBI employees that have some connection to his time in the academy, but even administrative clerks have their files protected by the FBI database encryption system, hence why he needs Carlos, he’s a Human Resources clerk at Quantico, he has access to the files, addresses, phone numbers, anything so employees can be localized. However, if his end game is to kill an SSA or a higher rank, their files would be far more complicated to obtain. You need to put in a requisition and it has to be approved by other HR superiors and then accessed with your own password, so he would need to keep Carlos alive until he got the approval. 

—But why would he need Conrad then?

—This is just a theory, but there were no signs of forced entry in any of the victims’ houses, which suggests they either knew the UnSub or he presented as non-threatening. Both murders were late at night and in not exactly the safest areas. Who do you open the door for, without hesitation, in the middle of the night and in the heart of a big metropolitan city?

—The police. —you said with certain disbelief.

—Smith was put on desk duty, but he was hired as a cop, he was never demoted, just moved, which means he gets to keep his badge, and that his badge number is still active. —he pointed at the information on the file— I don’t know how, but I think he’s using officer Smith to have access to the houses, and Carlos to get their locations. 

—There’s one problem, though, how did he get the locations for the first two employees? He didn’t have access to Carlos yet, he was only reported missing after the first two bodies appeared. 

Your observation put Reid back into deep thought, he stared at the timeline drawn on the board again, and suddenly, an idea popped into his head, or so you could notice by the way he fumbled with his phone, quickly dialing a known number. 

—Hi, Garcia?—he began talking into the speaker—Yes, I know it’s 2 am, and I’m very sorry, but I really need you to check something for me. Do you have access to the HR databases from your home computer? —he waited a second for her to respond— I don’t really need anything deep right now, I just want to confirm if Carlos Gonzalez was actively working during the two weeks prior to his disappearance. We might have caught a break, but I want to confirm a theory before I call everyone in again. Okay, contact me back if you have something. —with said words, he hung up the phone and turned to look at you. 

—You’re thinking Carlos disappeared way before he was reported missing, aren’t you? —you inquired as you watched him move some things up on the board

—If I’m right, it means he’s had Carlos help him all along. 

—As hostage or partner? —you asked him, but he simply shook his head, unsure of what the real answer was. He fell quiet, and his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, it was obvious he was nervous about something. Your eyebrows raised questioningly, it would be so much easier if he just spoke up his mind whenever he got a new thought— What now? 

—It would also confirm that you’re part of the suspect pool. 

—Well, if he has my file, he’ll know that I was the best tactical in my class, so good luck. —your eyes had traveled back to the board, your arms crossed over your chest as you examined the evidence hung from it. Out of the corner of your eye, you were able to spot Spencer dropping his head, and you turned to confirm he was alright; instead, you heard him sniffle. Panic took over you, and you reached closer to cup his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. —Hey, hey, what’s going on? 

—I just… —he started, struggling to find the right words— Garcia has been shot, Foyet got to Haley, Gideon couldn’t stop Frank, —he made a small pause to swallow a particularly thick knot on his throat— and doctors can get sick. 

—Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Spencer. You hear me? —you said resolutely. You didn’t realize when, but his arms had wrapped around your middle, and slowly your arms began to circle the area of his neck. —You’re not getting rid of me that easily. 

He still seemed unable to speak. His head simply leaned forward, forehead falling on yours. His eyes fluttered closed, and you allowed yourself to do so as well. After seconds of complete silence, an eternal moment of enjoying each other’s presence, you felt his hands explore further up, he caressed up your clothed back until one of them finally reached your hair. His fingers tangled on your locks and he finally pushed your head toward him, letting his lips fall on yours in a deep kiss. 

This one was different from the ones you had shared before during sex, it was deep, but slow, your lips moved so gently because his were also taking their time. He was savoring you, and you could tell. Your breaths were loud, every so often gasping for air, mouths unable, and unwilling, to pull apart. The ringing of his phone reminded you briefly of where you were and who was kissing you, but firm hands against your cheeks kept your head in place before you could pull away. He had the utter intention to ignore it, but right before the last tone rang he seemed to remember that he was, indeed, waiting for a call. 

—It’s Garcia. —he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away and rushed to get the device from the table, hitting the speaker button right away— Hey, Penelope, you are on speaker. 

—For a second I thought you weren’t going to pick up, and I swear to God, Reid, if you had woken me up from my beauty slumber, in which Ricky Martin was swearing eternal devotion to me, solely so you could fall asleep right away, the punishment I’d have landed upon you would have made those medieval torture instruments documentaries, that you like so much, look like the hairspray movie, and yes, I do mean the one with John Travolta. —Spencer and you exchanged horrified glances, unable to form a sentence to answer her— Anyways, I can’t access the files from my house network, I’d have to come into the office to connect through LAN to get them without being flagged as a national threat, again. But catch this, your boy Carlos bought a complete package deal on GayEuropeanTours.com, and I mean the whole package, Madrid, Milan, Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels, like the party capitals. His plane was supposed to arrive in Barcelona one week before the first murder and the entire tour was supposed to last about three weeks. 

—Is there any way to confirm that he wasn’t on that plane? —you asked on the phone. 

—I can’t have access to airline databases from here, this info I got from a facebook post he made two months ago. However, check this out, no one would pay so much money for a trip without posting pictures to brag a bit, right? His instagram has quite the few of them on it. 

—So he did go on the trip. —Reid muttered disappointed. 

—Tonight we finally have proof of who’s the smartest blond in the office, my dear braniac. —Penelope bragged, and Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion— Social media can say a lot about a person, Reid, Carlos would often post pictures of himself, his outfits, selfies, he was all about that self-love, but the europe ones include only food and places, beautiful architecture by the way, yet his face nowhere to be seen, I reverse-searched some of them and found out they were taken off the internet; and it doesn’t end there, I also looked at the metadata of the pictures, they were all posted at the same time, one per day, and through what seems to be an automated third party service to schedule posts. 

—Can we get a location? —he asked 

—My tracking software is at the office, but I’m packing my things as we speak. 

—Penelope, call Morgan and Prentiss, Spencer get Hotch and brief him on what we deduced so far, I’ll get JJ and Rossi, if we can track a location tonight, we might still be able to find Conrad alive. —you ordered the two of them and heard the line go dead at the end of your sentence. 

Spencer hurried to get his phone to dial Hotch’s number as fast as he could, and you stuck to your own orders, getting Rossi on the line almost right away. It felt good, the hope invading your body once again, it beamed, it felt warm and cold at the same time. There was a chance, a chance to save him. A chance for things to go back to what they were.

—Hotch? Listen, we figured out something important, we need everyone back as soon as- —you heard him stop mid-sentence while you waited for the call to connect to Jennifer’s number, but before you heard her voice, Spencer turned in your direction, his voice sounding concerned and surprised— What?

—What is it? — you rushed to ask, his concern quickly rubbing on you. 

—They just found another body that might be connected to our unsub. 

—But we never got a missing person’s report. —you pointed out with disbelief. 

Spencer’s saddened eyes gave you the answer you were avoiding to find. No one else had been reported, so the body could belong to any of the two current missing people. Either Carlos Gonzalez, or Conrad Smith. 

[noiriarti]

The Arrangement: Armitage Hux x Reader (College AU) Ch. 5

Summary: A cuddle-buddies-to-lovers college AU.

AN: second to last chapter!! i was activated like a sleeper agent and wrote this in a fugue state at 2 am. it is also 3.5k words. hope you like it! i am going to put this man through a juicer like he's an orange!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, [Ch. 5], Ch. 6

Chapter 5: Yogurt

After his revelation, Armitage started feeling guilty. It was in the rules, wasn't it, that you had to be honest with one another? That he had to come clean? But if he told you, you might pull away. Stop staying over. Or, worse, stop being his friend. That was unthinkable, so he kept his mouth shut. Meanwhile, you were thinking the same thing.

He was everything you wanted: proud, smart, reliable, strong, and, beneath it all, kind. Sweet. You'd pick him in a room of the hottest men on the planet a million times over. When you'd started your arrangement, you'd known him, sure, but you hadn't known him. What made him tick. What he wanted out of life. Watching him talk about how much he loved doing research in a neurochem lab, describing his experiments and the machines he used, you had slowly started peeling back the layers of his shell.

You just hadn't expected some of your discoveries to be so sad. Behind the facade of the dry humor and the insults he could hurl at Kylo in a heartbeat, he was so soft and delicate that it made your heart ache. You heard a bit about his father, when he would let some story slip. He told you once, when he was drifting off and let his guard down, that his father always found him lacking. That he could never be good enough. Useless and pathetic. Brendol Hux was a neurosurgeon with a god complex almost as large as his bank account, and he wasn't afraid of reminding Armitage exactly how he had misstepped that week. You suspected Brendol was physically abusive too, but you didn't want to ask Armitage. Not when he was so reticent to bring him up in the first place. The rest of his home life was bleak too. His stepmother, Maratelle, was calm, but distant. Armitage wasn't hers, as far as she was concerned. If she did speak to him, it was some remark about what he was eating, or his posture.

He was so proper, so deeply self-controlled, in every aspect of his day. His daily calendar was exacting, and often so overstuffed you felt anxious just looking at it. He did everything when he was supposed to do it, like clockwork. You could practically set your watch by his breakfast routine or his study sessions. That self-control was probably why  he never did anything that was vaguely sexual or romantic during your sessions, more than the inherent romance of how much contact you had. He never tried to kiss you, and, oddly, you found yourself hoping for it. The irony that this whole arrangement started precisely from your desire for no kissing or groping during cuddling wasn't lost on you, but it was different with Armitage.

Lately, though, you had seen a change in him. As he told you about his meetings with his advisors, he brought up a new idea. Clinical psychiatry. He could do research, and explore how brain chemistry worked in the real human body. Evaluate medicines. Really help people, not just now, but in the future. He could help make people better. Or, he could also make new medicines, but he'd need a PhD in chemistry for that. Either way, he was reconsidering his future, and the first person he wanted to tell was you.

A week after her bombshell, seeing no movement in your situation, Gwen casually mentioned one of your neighbors and friends, Finn, was having a party that Friday. That he told her to invite her roommates. You knew Finn from your Intro Compsci class, and he was great. Really sweet, lived with his boyfriend Poe and their friends Rey and Rose. You said you and Armitage would be there, not noticing that you had begun speaking for the two of you as a collective in the past month. After a hard semester, it was time to let loose. To chill a bit. Maybe forget about how much you wanted Armitage. You knew exactly what you would wear, too. 

On Thursday night, you heard raised voices in his room, just for a minute. After he yelled something indistinct, you heard a smash and then silence. Concerned, you knocked on his door. Tap tap tap tap. You didn't bother waiting for him to open the door. Those kinds of boundaries had been crossed a long time ago.

Armitage was on his bed, his head in his hands, shaking in rage. His phone was on the floor against the room, and you realized he had thrown it in anger. Worry clouded you, and you immediately rushed to him, sitting next to him in the dark room. Only the lamp by his bed shone, like it always did when he was expecting you.

"What's wrong?" You asked as you draped your arms over his shaking shoulders, trying in vain to calm him down.

"My father--he. We fought," he choked out. He wasn't crying, but his voice was thick with emotion.

"I'm so sorry. Want to talk about it?" You offered. He hesitated for a moment, but nodded. Millie was hiding under the bed, but peeked her head out at the softness of his voice.

"I brought up my idea to try chemistry--a PhD instead of an MD. Or, at least, to do psychiatry instead of surgery. He didn't like it," he whispered, his voice breaking. A sob bubbled up in his chest, but he kept it pressed deep down. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't.

"He's an asshole. You should be able to do what you want," you told him, rubbing up and down on his arm. Millie crawled into his lap, looking up at him with her large, green eyes. 

"Hey, girl," he whispered to her under his breath, scratching behind her ears, before turning his attention back to you. "It doesn't work like that in my family. If I don't do what he wants, he'll be disappointed and--I don't know." You pulled him down onto the bed so that he was facing the wall, and you were behind him. He hid himself in the wall, curling up until he felt tiny in the space. Like he did when his father yelled at him when he was little. You snaked your free hand over him, pulling him closer and pressing your chest into his back. The exact opposite of what you did the first night you were together.

You laid there for a couple of minutes, just holding him as he processed. In a tiny, tiny voice, so silent you wouldn't have caught it if the room wasn't dead quiet, he asked you something.

"Do you think I'll ever stop wanting him to like me?" You crumbled. He was so precious, so sweet. I like you. I love you. You don't need him, your mind echoed. You wanted nothing more than to keep him like this, wrapped up in your arms, until he understood how much he meant to you.

"Armitage, he's your dad. Of course you want him to like you. But he's controlling, and if you spend your whole life chasing what he wants, how will you ever have space for what you want? All your friends know how amazing you are. We know you, who you are, and we love you for it. You would be an excellent psychiatrist, or chemist, or, hell, even a surgeon. What your father wants is irrelevant. What you want should be all that matters." He nodded, but stayed quiet. When he'd had fights like this with his father as a child, they rocked him to his core. He'd hole up in his room for hours, even days, hoping that someone would come looking. That someone would find him and tell him he was okay. That they weren't mad at him. With you, with Gwen, hell, even with Kylo in his life, it felt like there was someone there. Someone to help him keep going when his family was hard. Hearing your words, for the first time after a fight with his father, he started getting angry, but the emotion was short-lived. 

Armitage was trying and failing to ignore he way his body lit up when you said you (all) loved him. He knew it was a general, collective statement, but he let himself believe, just for tonight, that you meant it the way he desperately wanted you to. That you were holding him not as his... whatever this was, but as his girlfriend. The arms of a lover, the embrace of his girl. Tonight, somewhere between the rage at his father and the pain of rejection, he could let himself believe it. It soothed him, and he imagined life with you. Waking up and having cereal, kissing you tenderly over the kitchen table. That would happen when he woke up, he told himself. Because you loved him. Tonight, just tonight, you loved him. He felt so safe in your arms, so happy in his temporary delusion, that he fell asleep almost instantly, but not before he had one final thought. I love you too.

As you felt his arm and body go slack, finally asleep, you drew in closer, resting your head on his back. Gently, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, and hoped he would have sweet dreams, ones where he did what made him happy.

In the morning, he woke before you, as usual, and felt horrendously embarrassed. He should have just told you last night that he needed to study, and that you could see each other tomorrow. Instead, he had shown you something he didn't want to. Did you think less of him? In the harsh light of the morning, his bullheaded, hopeful belief that that you loved him seemed laughable. Silly, even. Pathetic. The anger toward his father was all that was left in his heart, the sadness having morphed into something vengeful overnight.

Not to mention the fact that he was definitely in breach of your arrangement. He was not being honest with you about how he felt, and it was time to talk to you about ending this, for both your sakes. You rooming situation was complicated enough as it was, he didn't need to add his stupid crush into the mix. What if it made you uncomfortable? How could he justify his presence in your arms every night when his motive was something sinister. To get in your pants, like some freak. Pathetic. He shook away his father's voice. But he had to tell you how he felt, before one of you got hurt.

He extricated himself from you as best he could and dragged his sorry ass into the kitchen. Even though she was usually across campus at this time, Gwen stood in the kitchen, eating some pizza directly from the fridge. He threw her a greeting and pulled out his tub of Greek yogurt, which he instantly noticed was too light. It was nearly empty, and he hadn't bought a new one. Useless. He tossed the container in the garbage with unnecessary force, startling Gwen on the other side of the kitchen.

Sheepishly, he picked it out of the garbage. It was a recyclable. As he dutifully washed it out, his anger grew. The scalding water burned his hands, but the bite of it focused him. Whatever his failings last night, he had drawn one correct conclusion. He couldn't let his father dictate his every move. He could get what he wanted from him, and then leave his father alone the way he had done to Armitage for so many years. Once he had tossed out the container, he texted his father. I have decided I would like to pursue medical school. He didn't expect a response, really. But he knew that his father would read it. All that really mattered was his father paying for his education. After that, Brendol couldn't control his specialty, or residencies. He was going to be a clinical neurochemist, damnit, and his father couldn't stop him. His father probably wouldn't even notice.

Not that he didn't still fear his father, or that he suddenly stopped yearning for a "I'm proud of you, son," from him. But, he accepted with a resigned bitterness, that would probably never come. And when he wanted that approval, or affection, or anything, he had you. And Gwen and Kylo. And Millie. And that was enough, for now. But it really meant he couldn't fuck it up with you. If he lost you, and then his other roommates got weirded out, he wasn't sure where he'd turn. The guilt would eat him alive for ruining something so precious by thinking with his dick.

"You good?" Gwen asked him, noticing his outwardly unhinged behavior.

"Yeah, just. Parents," he mustered, and she nodded.

"I get it. I'm here, if you want to talk." He was touched, and nodded at her. Maybe he could really do this, rely on his little circle. They lapsed into silence again.

"You know, you should really do something about your feelings," Gwen remarked as she took a bite of her pizza. She knew him well enough to read the moment of panic that was covered by a schooled look of calm.

"What are you talking about?" Casual. Smooth. Unbothered.

"Your feelings. You know. Just tell her. Please. You are taking years off my life," she said as she rolled her eyes and stalked out of the kitchen. He was left standing there, letting his jaw drop when she turned her back. Shit, he needed to end the arrangement. If he was being this obvious, and you noticed, you'd surely feel betrayed that he didn't tell you. That he withheld something like that from you for months when you both explicitly agreed not to. He needed to talk to you, stat.

The only problem was that there was a party that night. He saw Gwen in leather pants and a silver top, and he instantly connected the dots. It was Friday. Shit. He threw on a button up, which he rolled up to his elbows, and passable slacks. Whatever. He didn't intend to stay longer than an hour, and then he had to find you and talk to you. When he left his room, Kylo was next to Gwen, wearing an oversized black bomber jacket over a black shirt and black jeans. The guy certainly had a look, Armitage had to give him that.

"Okay, I'm ready!" You called from the hallway.

The dress hugged your curves in ways that made his mouth water, accentuating all the parts of you that he tried to deny existed. He traced the expanse of your legs with his gaze, all the way from your heels up to the hem of your skirt. Before looking you in the eye, he stopped and admired your collarbone, and the faintest bit of glitter you had rubbed on it. And the curve of your neck. Gods, he could write a book about it. You had pinned your hair back in some way that he found baffling, but managed to make your features sharper, more dangerous.

So, basically, he thought you looked hot. The dress, in truth, was a bit too small. It rode up on the bottom, and the top kept slipping down whenever you lifted your arms. But no one, even you, could deny that you looked like a total smokeshow in it.

Gwen gave Armitage three seconds to process and internally drool before she started ushering you and Kylo through the door and down the hall to Finn's place. Outside your room, the bass from the party echoed through the walls, and the air was just a bit muggy from the swarm of people inside their living room. You and Gwen dashed off to greet Finn, leaving Kylo and Armitage, God help him, to mingle. Kylo made eye contact with him, and they both instantly headed to the drinks. Armitage fought his way through the crowd, feeling the pulse of the beat and the sweat in the air. After bumping into a couple almost making out, he murmured an apology and kept winding his way to his goal. Kylo just barreled through the dancing bodies, not even apologizing for almost knocking over a rather tipsy girl and her friend. Finally, they reached the kitchenette, which gave them a decent view of the entire living room, crammed full of drunk people. Armitage immediately searched the room for you, ready to find you and tell you that, actually, this was a mistake, and he wanted to go home now please. After about a minute (and a shot that Kylo had shoved in his face), he found you, with Gwen, talking to Finn. And then, oh joy of joys. 

Who would join you guys but Mitaka? Little Dopheld with his little crush on you? Armitage sneered in his direction. Not that he had any right to be possessive, he admitted. But still. Armitage was not leaving any time soon. He'd stay here until you left. Mitaka approached you, waving as the three of you added him into the conversation. Kylo had gone off to hang out with one of his acquaintances from the swim team--some tall girl with brown hair and freckles--leaving Armitage alone to seethe in the kitchen. He watched as you and Gwen laughed at something hilarious Mitaka had said. Awesome. Great. Then, the four of you turned to one of the bedrooms, and slipped into it. You lagged behind, searching the room for something. When you spotted Armitage, you waved at him, beckoning him across the oppressively loud room with a hand. He dove back into the crowd, pushing past groups of friends and couples and strangers as he found his way back to you. You cast him a smile that made the anger gripping him loosen just a bit. When you grabbed his hand and started dragging him into the bedroom, he melted, leaving his frustration behind.

The room had its floor cleared, with all the people in the room sitting in a large circle, or, rather, a lopsided oval. He wasn't quite sure why, or what was going on (Cult intiation? Drinking game?), but you sat down next to Gwen, pulling Armitage next to you. He dug his fingers into the thin, scratchy carpet when Mitaka and Gwen switched places, putting Mitaka directly to your left. Perfect. He shot a murderous look at Gwen, who had on a shit-eating grin. She knew what she was doing, and Armitage vowed to crush all her protein bars and unscrew her showerhead the next morning. Across the circle, he heard Kylo's distinct chuckle, and turned to give him the same violent look.

It appeared that they were playing some game, the exact rules of which weren't explained. Was it spin the bottle? A handsome man, Poe, he surmised from the way Finn was looking at him, spun the bottle, and it landed on Kylo. Kylo then crawled into the center and spun it. Anticipation filled the room as the light glinted over the edges of the bottle once, twice, thrice. It slowed, landing on that girl from the swimming team. Rey something. Would they kiss? That'd mean this was spin the bottle. Armitage wondered absently, his eyes still focused on you and Mitaka. Instead of just a chaste kiss, Kylo stood up and pulled Rey into the walk-in closet with a devilish grin. Ah. Seven minutes in heaven. Classic.

But fuck, you were playing. Which meant you could get into a closet with any one of these random people. Or, with a probability of 1/13, you could get him. That thought made his skin flush. You and him, in a dark closet. He imagined your hands trailing everywhere, exploring the parts of each other that your arrangement prohibited. Your skin, warm under his as he kissed along your neck. A series of cheers interrupted his fantasy, as he watched Kylo and Rey stumble out of the closet with matched blown pupils and dazed smiles. He whispered something to her, and she smiled. The pair made their exit when the crowd's cheers died down, and their attention had been drawn by the next victims. Armitage realized that the probability that you would kiss him, or do anything else except stand there awkwardly, if you were chosen, was so slim it was laughable. Pathetic, a voice echoed. Poe spun the bottle again, and Armitage started to wonder how many more spins it would take for you to get bored and finally leave so that the two of you could go home. Another spin, another couple. Mitaka whispered something to you which made you grin wolfishly, some piece of gossip that lit up your eyes. Armitage bristled. Just one more spin, and then he'd suggest leaving. Poe's hand spun the bottle, and Armitage was too busy looking at you and trying to estimate whether Mitaka was closer to you than he was, when the bottle made its choice.

It was you. You looked up at Poe, seeming to have forgotten the fact that you were playing in the first place. You glanced at Armitage, your features tightly drawn in nervousness, as you crawled to the center of the floor and spun the bottle. The bottle's glass made soft noises as it brushed against the carpet. Shk shk shk shk shk. Armitage counted the spins, 5 so far, and mentally calculated that 1/13 meant a 7.7% chance it would land on him, odds that he realized he probably wouldn't beat. Behind his back, he crossed his fingers, with one hand at first, but then with both hands. Shk shk shk. The bottle was slowing, creeping around the circle. He found himself praying. To whom, he wasn't sure. But he was praying. Shk shk. The bottle was barely turning, and, to his delight, it was turning toward him. Slowly, but surely, he was looking down the neck of the bottle. But then it kept going. Right past him, right past you.

And it landed on Mitaka.

Motherfucker.

[dinodivider]

Making my way through the X-Men movies for the first time with some friends and the few things I have to say are as follows:

1. Last Stand is bad. Worse than bad. I could go on for so long about how badly written this movie is and I would be mad the whole time. Shame on the writers of that movie

2. Origins Wolverine is also bad but at least it’s fun. The shot with the gun coming into frame at the end should be framed in a museum

3. I liked First Class WAY more than I thought I would. I love those two stupid kids so much.

4. Erik and Charles are boyfriends

[archivallyfound09]

Something In-Between, pt. 5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (f), Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader (f) (no y/n)

Summary: Something old, something new- reader's stuck between two men who look damn good in Navy blue(s).

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), drinking, potentially some suggestive situations in the future (none here). Everything I write is Mature- read at your own risk.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The door creaked ever so slightly as it opened in the almost completely darkened room. You turned towards the offending noise, aggravated, without being fully conscious yet.

"So, listen," his voice was shaky and you were barely awake, eyes blearily trying to focus on the man standing in your doorway. You heard him sigh and you reached for your glasses, wanting to better understand why you were up at...dear god, the crack of fucking dawn.

"Bradshaw..." your voice was low and the comment was issued as a warning. He held up a hand and leaned on the doorframe sighing again.

"I know. I'm an asshole. And I embarrassed you and I guess...I guess what I'm trying to figure out how to-"

"Spit it out Bradshaw, I want to get some decent sleep before tod-"

"Just let me okay?" you could hear the annoyance and the fear in his voice. "I need to admit this. I've been acting like an asshole and everything with Hangman because...I think I'm in love with you."

It was a statement of fact that hung in the early morning and sucked all the air out of the room and out of Bradley's lungs. You sat up a bit in bed, not sure if you had heard him entirely correct. Sure, it was fairly obvious there were feelings between you two, but they had always been on your end. What you were surprised by was his ability to admit these feelings...

It had been one night at UVA, all the "kids" in your friend group had scampered off to some nightclub, leaving you alone at a large booth sipping a drink. You had spotted Bradley across the way at the bar, quietly looking completely unphased by everything happening in a college bar on a Friday night. He suddenly caught your eye as he scanned the room and you offered him a slight smile and raised your glass to him. He raised his beer bottle in reciprocation and then you tilted your head to the empty seats beside you.

You and Bradley had closed down the bar in that booth. You covered every topic you could think of: family, friends, classes, life, dream jobs, childhood pets. Bradley had told you about his parents and the Navy- which was something he always intentionally avoided when first meeting someone. You were different. The two of you walked out of the bar, attached at the hip. It was that night that you knew, he had fallen in love with you.

"I knew in college, Bradley. I'm just not exactly sure what to do about it." You saw his face drop as he nodded. He was afraid of this scenario, but being stuck in purgatory where he didn't know if you even knew of his feelings was a far worse outcome. You offered him a sleepy smile.

"Can we maybe talk about this some time when I'm not half asleep?" That got a chuckle and another nod from Bradley as he stepped towards you in bed.

"You bet. Love ya, kid." he places a quick peck on the top of your head and you smiled, breathing in his cologne. You started sinking back under the covers for a few more hours of sleep as he headed towards the door.

"Love ya too, Bradshaw."

--------

"Hey there, darlin'," the southern voice drawled through the receiver, "how'd I get so lucky to win a phone call from you?" You stifled a giggle, the alcohol clouding every part of your brain. You swayed a bit, holding the phone tightly against your cheek, a big, stupid grin plastered on your face.

"Uh, sweetheart?"

You gasped at his voice, half forgetting that you were on the phone.

"Shit, sorry. I uh- I...fuck, I honestly don't know why I called you. I'm sorry...." The words rambled out with only a bit of slurring. You were more embarrassed than drunk and that part of your brain was suddenly working just fine.

"It's all good darlin', I'm here if you just want to talk. You in a safe place?" You nodded and then realized there was no way Jake could hear your nod. You gave him the affirmative and he hummed back. Suddenly, loud music filled the reciever.

"Jake, where are you? Oh god- you're out, I'm so fucking sor-"

You heard a slightly annoyed sigh from Jake on the other end. You weren't sure if it was your call or the obnoxiously loud karaoke that had just started up. You heard him shuffling outside and then suddenly on the ocean waves could be heard in the background.

"Stop apologizing for calling me. You okay? Do you want-"

"-I want you to come over."

The unasked question melded with your response and Jake couldn't help the flip that his stomach did when you admitted you wanted him there. His heart started pounding a bit more as he bit the corner of his lip.

"I'll be there in 10 sweetheart. Want me to bring anything?" His brain started wracking though all the things that could happen tonight (beer, wine, vodka, whiskey, weed, coke, condoms...he only knew where to get a few things and wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but wanted to be prepared nonetheless). Your shaky and still tipsy voice crackled in his ear and brought him out of his 50 yard stare.

"I...I don't think I want to be alone right now, that's all."

Jake refused to hang up the phone even when a dial tone rung in his ear, signalling that you had probably moved onto another drink. He walked pointedly out of the bar, his vision tunnelling as he walked swiftly out the front doors to his car.

Both Phoenix and Coyote saw the whole thing happen. The phone call that was answered too quickly. The nicknames that flew out of Hangman's mouth. The walking outside. The run to get to the parking lot. Phoenix rolled her eyes and looked over at Bradley, completely engrossed in a song at the piano, a variety of cadets and officers singing and clapping him on the back.

Poor bastard, she thought, he has no idea.

---------

You couldn't tell if it had been 10 minutes or 10 hours. You were splayed out, halfway on the floor, a glass precariously perched in your hand. You knew this was catastrophic. You knew it was immature. You also knew what Bradley's admission meant this morning: all those years you had pined for him and supported him and loved him, he had loved you back. But he had left you anyway.

Another sound knock at the door lurched you up onto your feet as you stumbled to grasp the cool handle in your palm. You tried to regain some control as you unlocked and opened the door, but you seemed to lose all resolve when you were met with the stunningly handsome blond aviator in front of you.

"Hey..." you ventured awkwardly, unsure of exactly what 20 minutes ago drunk you were thinking.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Mind if I come in? Assess the damage?" You laughed and stepped to the side, a smirk covering Jake's face when he noticed the half empty liquor bottle on the kitchen table.

"You've been busy," he commented, the smirk growing. You shrugged. "Something going on?" You shook your head, unwilling to give up any more information. You were drunk, but you weren't stupid. You didn't want Jake knowing about Bradley and his feelings and...

"It's Bradshaw, isn't it?"

You froze, halfway back to the couch. You let out a deep sigh and then turned slowly like a caught child. Well, so much for keeping that cat in the bag.

"He loves me," Jake froze, unsure of the intrepid waters that he just crossed into. "I loved him for years, Jake, years," you emphasized and he nodded, crossing the room to sit next to your on the couch. "He called me his sister. He dated around. He...he left me." You willed yourself not to cry. The feeling of Jake's warm hand on your thigh helped calm you down a bit.

"It fuckin sucks, man," you said through a few lose tears, a laugh bubbling up at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Jake nodded and let out a small breathless laugh.

"I hear ya, darlin. How about we take your mind off it okay?" Before you could answer he was already heading to the kitchen, two glasses in hand. "Nothing a little drinking game can't fix."

---------

About 2 am you thought your sides were going to burst from all the laughter. You weren't even sure what had happened to get you from literal tears to a giggling mess halfway into Jake's arms. You realized he was laughing just as hard as you were, the empty bottle of tequila was no doubt the culprit in all this.

"Jake, I have to go to bed now..." you weren't sure if you were trying to be seductive or just make a point that if you laughed anymore, you very well may throw up. Jake calmed his chuckles and started to stand up. "I know where my own bedroom is..."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that darlin'? I'm just trying to be a gentleman here and make sure you get home safely." You swatted at his chest, earning another laugh. You took his arm and led him towards your bedroom.

"See? Safe and sou-" you turned to look at your bed and when you turned back around to Jake, his lips collided with yours. You froze. It was everything you thought a kiss with Jake Seresin would be, except it was way more clouded than you would've liked. He kept it short and simple, not apologetic look on his face.

"I want you to know exactly where I stand with you, princess. I don't want to miss out on something because you're not sure of my feelings."

--------

"Hey Hangman? Get the FUCK out of my living room!"

You blinked through the fog of an impending hangover, cursing whatever idiot part of you let you drink tequila last night. You looked at your phone. 4.32am. Goddammit. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, pulling on pajama pants that were lying on the floor and quickly made your way out to the living room.

You were anticipating a brawl. What you found was Jake standing, hands up in mock apology, head down, with Bradley practically snarling at him, his voice seething.

"I said GET THE FUCK-"

"BRADLEY." Both men turned to look at you. You were a sight. Backwards PJ pants, wrinkled oversized shirt, hair sticking up in a variety of directions, glasses slightly crooked on your nose.

"He's drunk. He can't drive home. I won't allow it. And how the FUCK did you get home like this?"

He gave you a sheepish look, refusing to answer directly, but rather mumbling something about Bob and Coyote and Phoenix's car. You rolled your eyes, your head already pounding and your mouth impeccably dry.

"Okay. Here's how this is going to work. I'm getting water for all three of us," you walked towards the kitchen. "Bradley, go to bed. Jake, go back to bed. I'm going to contemplate whether or not I want to die from this hangover and we're all going to leave each other alone, okay?" The two tired slightly intoxicated nods you received almost made you laugh. Almost.

You handed Bradley his water without a word. He gave you a crooked smile and headed off to his room. When you placed the glass down next to Jake on the coffee table, he looked up at you, gratefully.

"Thanks beautiful. I appreciate it."

You nodded, not trusting your words and headed back to bed, water glass gripped tightly in your grasp. You laid down in bed, not completely fathoming what had just happened. Jake and Bradley were mere feet away from you (and from each other).

"Jesus fucking Christ."

----------

PART 6

A/N: I'm not saying something vaguely like this happened in college that one time...but I'm also not saying that it didn't. I'm still stuck between the two- let me know who you all like more!

---

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[yanderes-galore]

Fandoms

All the fandoms I'm doing and taking a break from. Always up to date, check often :)

Last Edited: 6/25/24

Bold -> Written Before

Not Bold -> Hasn't been written before.

🔪Fandoms I am currently writing for🔪

Movies/Shows

- Adventure Time

- Arcane

- Assassination Classroom

- Attack on Titan

- Avatar (Movies)

- Beastars (Season 1 + 2 of the anime)

- Bionicle: The Journey To One

- Black Clover

- Blue Exorcist

- The Boys

- Carmen Sandiego (Netflix show)

- Death Note

- The Devil is a Part-Timer!

- Ducktales 2017

- Gravity Falls

- Fire Force

- Halo RvB/Red vs Blue (All seasons)

- Happy Tree Friends (Anthro Animals or Hybrids/Humans [Like my OCs])

- Haikyu!

- Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

- How To Train Your Dragon

- Monkie Kid (Lego)

- Invader Zim (Original series and Enter the Florpus)

- My Hero Academia

- My Little Pony (FiM and a New Generation)

- Murder Drones

- Naruto

- Ninjago

- Noragami

- One Piece

- One Punch Man

- Pirates of the Caribbean

- Puss in Boots

- Rick & Morty

- Saiki K

- Spooky Month

- Star Wars (Movies + Clone Wars)

- Steven Universe

- Solar Opposites

- Terminator (All movies)

- Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Media (2003, 2007 movie, 2012, 2014/Bayverse, 2018/ROTTMNT)

- Tokyo Ghoul

- Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

- Treasure Planet

- Trigun Stampede

- Umbrella Academy

- Voltron: Legendary Defender

- Walking Dead

- Watchmen

- Wednesday

- The Witcher (Show)

- X-men Evolution

Games

- Apex Legends

- Arknights

- Assassin's Creed

- Bendy and the Ink Machine

- Bioshock (All games)

- Borderlands (Including 1, 2, Pre-sequel, and 3)

- Cookie Run

- Call of Duty

- Cult of The Lamb

- Danganronpa (Games only)

- Dauntless (Creatures will all be pet-like)

- Darksiders

- Dark Deception

- Dark Souls/Souls-Like games

- Dead By Daylight (All Survivors and Killers along with costumes)

- Dead Space (1-3)

- Detroit: Become Human

- Devil May Cry

- Deltarune (Both Chapters)

- Disney Mirrorverse

- Don’t Starve (All Survivors and Costumes)

- DOOM

- Dying Light

- Evil Within

- Evolve (Creatures will all be pet-like)

- Fallout

- Far Cry

- Fear and Hunger

- Five Nights at Freddy’s (All Games, Books, Fluffy AU) (Animatronic or Android)

- Friday Night Funkin (Base game)(?)

- Final Fantasy (Primarily anything past 7)

- Gears/Gears of War (Yandere Fics)

- Genshin Impact

- God of War

- Half-Life

- Halo (Reach, CE, 2, 3, 3 ODST, 4, 5, Infinite, Wars 1+2)

- Hollow Knight

- Identity V (All Survivors/Killers and their costumes except Hastur and younger characters are depicted as Platonic)

- Honkai Impact

- Killer Frequency

- The Last of Us

- League of Legends

- Left 4 Dead (1 and 2)

- Legend of Zelda

- Lobotomy Corporation

- Mario Franchise

- Metal Gear Solid (All games, although I like Revengeance the most)

- Mortal Kombat (9 through 11)

- Metroid

- Mystic Messenger

- No More Heroes

- No Straight Roads

- Obey Me!

- OFF

- Outlast

- The Outer Worlds

- Overwatch (All characters/Costumes)

- Payday 2

- Persona (3-5)

- Portal (1 and 2)

- Ratchet and Clank

- Pokemon (Just Trainers Right Now) (All games)

- Rainbow Six Siege

- Resident Evil (All Games)

- Silent Hill

- Red Dead Redemption (Mostly 2)

- Skyrim

- Street Fighter

- Team Fortress 2 (All Classes and characters like Miss Pauling and Saxton Hale)

- Twisted Wonderland

- Ultrakill

- Undertale

- Warframe

- We Happy Few

- Xcom

Books

- Halo Books (Fall of Reach, The Flood, Contact Harvest, The Cole Protocol, First Strike, Ghosts of Onyx, Cryptum, Broken Circle, Hunters In The Dark, Last Light, New Blood, Envoy, Retribution, Smoke and Shadow, Bad Blood, Renegade, Point of Light, Divine Wind)

Fits in more than one category

- Black Butler

- Alien vs Predator (Just Alien movies or Predator movies are also included. Also books and games.)

- A Song of Ice and Fire/House of The Dragon/Game of Thrones

- Creepypasta/Gaming Creepypasta (Not everyone, it depends)

- Bungou Stray Dogs

- Cuphead (Game/Show)

- Cyberpunk 2077 (Anime/Game)

- DC Comics (Comics, Games, Movies) [Injustice and Arkhamverse mainly, but let's discuss]

- Demon Slayer

- Hiveswap

- Jujutsu Kaisen

- Homestuck

- Madness Combat (Game and Series)

- Marvel Cinematic Universe (Up to Endgame)/Marvel Comic Universe (SPECIFY WHAT COMIC PLEASE-)

- SCP (Not everyone, it depends)

- Slashers/Horror in general (Please say what movie your slasher is from)

- Sonic (All games + The Paramount Movies + IDW Comics. All characters are aged up except characters Classic! Tails, Movie! Tails, Cream the Rabbit, Ray the Flying Squirrel, and Classic Amy, which are Platonic as I can't see them as aged up.)

- Splatoon (Manga/Games)

- Transformers (Animated, Cyberverse, Earthspark, Generation 1, IDW comics, Prime, Robots In Disguise, War for Cybertron)

- Yandere OCs I have (Look at this list)

~~💜~~

🚫Fandoms I am taking a break from🚫

- South Park (All aged up of course, Show and games)

[cupidsbed]

Ceviche Inspired Salad with X-Men First Class

I woke up today seriously craving salad. It's all I've been thinking about since I woke up this morning. Big problem? A few of my roommates absolutely loathe traditional salad, so I have to get creative. This recipe is heavily inspired by Mexican ceviche and I essentially turned it into a dish you can eat as a full meal rather than a topping! I paired the salad with some spice rubbed chicken and I think I ascended to the heavens. This recipe feeds around four people comfortably, or two particularly high people.

RECIPE

INGREDIENTS

For the Salad

1 can sweet corn, drained

2/3 can black beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 a small red onion

2 cups cherry tomatoes

3 large avocados

1 pinch tajin

1/2tsp basil

1/4tsp black pepper (white also works!)

1/4tsp dried dill

1/4tsp salt

1tbs salt (for the tomatoes)

1/2 lime

For the Chicken

2 chicken breasts

1/2 lime

1tsp tajin

1/4tsp cumin

1/2tsp paprika

1/4tsp cayenne pepper

1/2tsp black pepper

Hefty pinch of red pepper

1 tablespoon of cooking oil (I used olive)

Directions

Dump your drained sweet corn, and rinsed black beans into a large bowl.

Thinly slice your red onion and dump them into that same bowl.

Quarter your tomatoes and put them into a smaller bowl. Sprinkle your salt onto your tomatoes as evenly as you can and set them aside to allow the salt to soak up some excess moisture.

Dice your avocados and scoop them into the larger bowl. Mix up your bowl with a spoon or a fork, squishing the avocado slightly so it can stick to the other ingredients. I found this makes the texture a bit smoother and more cum in mouth worthy.

Add in your tomatoes and spices and mix again. Congrations! Your salad is done; now for the chicken!

Mix your spices for the chicken into a small bowl and set aside.

Slice your chicken into strips (size is your preference I like them fairly fat) and rub the spices onto both sides. You will have some left over that you can absolutely save and use later.

Line your pan with your cooking oil and cook your strips on a medium heat for about 4 minutes on each side or until cooked all the way through. Please keep in mind, I live in the mountains at about 5,000 feet in elevation. My chicken will cook a lot slower than someone at sea level or a lower elevation. Chicken becomes safe to eat at 165F (73.9C) if you have a temperature gauge please please please be sure to utilize it.

Plate the salad into a bowl, and place the chicken on top. Squeeze some lime on top and ta-da! You done it! You have completed your dish :)

A couple of notes before we move onto the nerd shit. You can very easily replace the chicken for something plant based instead. One of my roommates is vegan and I made this dish in a way that everyone in my household can enjoy. I cut him up a Morning Star Chicken Patty and cooked that in a separate pan and used the same spices (different mixture!! That one's contaminated!!). It'll give the same affect without leaving anyone out!!

I decided to pair this dish with X-men First Class. I've been pretty heavily hyperfixated on the X-men the past week or so after watching X-men 97' and I decided to start rewatching the entire series. I'm on the fifth movie in the series and I have been waiting for this one. First class is probably one of my all time favorites in this series. You can tell whoever wrote this script they grew up watching the cartoon or reading the comics. Obviously the writers and directors had their own take but I think it's such an amazing refresh from the nitty gritty of the first three (and the trash pile which was Origins).

During this time there was a lot of focus on World War II in superhero movies. And by a lot I mean the first Captain America came out the same year. I think it was very much needed. I don't even know how to put into words how horrific the Holocaust was and as a Jew seeing someone not only survive that, but rise and do incredible things means the world to me. Magneto endured horror beyond words, and he will always be a hero in my heart. He's the type of villain that has become the hero we needed because, in the words of 97', Magneto was right. We cannot expect acceptance without resistance. There is no assimilating into modern society. We are different, and we should celebrate those differences. In my case: I'm a bisexual trans jewish man and I'm so proud of who I am. I'm proud of my differences, I wear my yarmulke, my pride flags to show I will not fold in a society that is increasingly hostile against who I am on a fundamental level. I love the X-men series because it's not just a silly little super hero comic; it's a series that's full of diversity that's meant to empower the individual.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings, and please let me know how you like the food!

[in-my-loki-feels]

10 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

35

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

461,252

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now: Lokius, but in the past I've written: MDZS/The Untamed, Assassin's Creed, X-Men: First Class, Captain America, Overwatch, and a few anime. (Only counting things I've shared.)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my absolute best to! Sometimes I fall behind but a few months ago I chained myself to my desk to get caught up and now I'm trying not to let them go unanswered for too long.

I do it because I really appreciate when someone takes the time out to tell me what they liked, or just that they did like what I wrote! Also, I love talking about my fics! So sometimes I may respond with more information than you expected when you left a simple comment about one line you liked. 😆

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not, but I have had someone put my fics on GoodReads which I DO NOT WANT. Please, please, please do not list fanfic on GoodReads or any similar site.

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Depends on how we're defining "co-written". I've never split writing between myself and another author, but I have done an event fic that was extremely collaborative and I think the artist deserved credit for helping to come up with many of the ideas used.

7. What's your all-time favourite ship?

An impossible question! It's usually whichever I'm focused on at the moment, which is Lokius in this case, but if I have to make a top three Nope. I realized as I was writing those words that that is also impossible!

8. What are your writing strengths?

I know I answered this in a different game and can't remember what I said. 😅 Let's go with soft, sappy moments and porn with feelings. (Get you a writer who can do both, as they say.😂)

9. What are your writing weaknesses?

World building and sometimes scene setting. When I'm picturing a scene, I don't really think much about what's surrounding the characters, so those are details I have to consciously add in after the first draft.

10. First fandom you wrote for?

I honestly can't remember if it was Star Wars (original trilogy) or X-Files because it was so long ago. Probably like circa 1995?