#this ask turned up in my email without the photos

[kedreeva]

Bonus: Kiss

oh ho-ooo he's trusting her to parasite pick! love's truest expression.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.

Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?

You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.

It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"

He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"

"Yeah."

"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."

Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."

---------------------------

After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.

It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.

But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?

You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.

It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.

Bradley,

I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.

But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.

You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.

Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos. 

You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.

"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"

You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.

"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?

After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.

"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."

The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.

"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.

The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.

You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land. 

Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.

Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.

I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you. 

Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.

-----------------------------

After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.

He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.

As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck. 

There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.

Bradley,

I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.

I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable. 

You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.

Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.

Hitting send before I can change my mind.

Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.

-----------------------------

"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.

"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.

"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."

"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.

"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.

You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.

At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of that fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.

After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?

I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually. 

Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.

You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

---------------------------

Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[gglitch1dd]

Cheating DILF Izuku

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: This is just an angst story. IT IS NOT CONFIRMED PART OF MY STORY. It is not CANON. Izuku would NEVER cheat but if he did... it would be like this. I wrote this just to watch people cry.

Warning: Child loss, grief, Infidelity, Absent parenting,

You felt him shift behind you as his alarm rang. It was early in the morning and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up and out of bed yet. There was a whole ocean of space between you and your husband. A gap that had not been crossed or touched in over six months. It felt so cold to even try and move from your side of the bed because you knew that the person you were reaching out to was just as cold and if not, colder.

You heard your husband get out of bed and move towards the bathroom to get ready for work. There was no more slow morning sex, or waking up in his arms or to kisses. Anything and everything was work or the kids. That was all it seemed your marriage became in the span of six months.

You let out a heavy breath as you slowly sat up in bed. You looked to the right over to the family photo on your side table. You, your loving husband and your five boys. Something that seemed so far away despite the portraits having been taken just a year ago.

You got up out of bed and moved to go wake up the boys. You knocked on each of their doors, making sure they would be awake to get to school. You moved to your youngest’s bedroom. The four-year-old was still very much asleep which you were glad for. You moved over to where he was asleep in bed, his eyes closed. You gave a sad smile, but you were glad he was so blissfully unaware of everything else.

You moved to head downstairs, getting bento boxes ready and also breakfast. It was the same routine but something was always different which you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

Just as you fried the eggs, your oldest sons came downstairs.

“Morning mom!” Asahi greeted as he moved to quickly kiss your cheek and immediately went to grab plates to set the table. You smiled at your eleven year old son, already dressed in his gakuran.

“Morning ma!” Another kiss went to your cheek as Hero, your seven year old came and passed by, grabbing cutlery to put at the table, seemingly already in conversation with Asahi. You smiled over at him.

Finally walking over to you, in not as much as a rush than his younger brothers was Toshinori, your eldest. He gave your shoulders a squeeze and a kiss to your cheek. “Good morning, ma.” He easily picked up on tending to the other frying pan, grabbing his apron with one hand so that he could help you. He did it without being told and yet you always felt so grateful for his help. He looked at you with kind eyes and curly green hair. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?” He asked.

You smiled over at him, so grateful you had such an attentive eldest son. “I slept fine, thank you Toshi. I hope you slept well too.” You wished as you turned off the stove you were working at and turned to finish your husband’s bento box.

“I slept well.” He told you sweetly. “Did… did any email or mail come in yet?” he asked.

You turned to Toshinori with a smile. He had been eagerly awaiting a letter from UA. You were just grateful that with everything that happened the last six months, your son managed to still train and go to the physical exam to enter UA High School. Although you were pretty sure it was a guarantee that he would enter the school, considering he had your husband’s quirk due to him being born quirkless too, Toshinori wanted a fair and equal trial just like everyone else. He wanted to be deserving of it and in every way he was. 

You turned to him shoving him gently. “Hey…” he turned to you with slightly anxious eyes. You took a deep breath and he mimicked you. You took a second before you both breathed out. You smiled. “Everything is going to be fine. I told you, you’ll be the first one to read it the moment I get it.” You promised him. He nodded his head with a smile. He opened his mouth to speak but the heavy sound of footsteps interrupted him as finally your husband descended from downstairs.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning kiddos.” Your husband let out, his voice less chirpy than it was six months ago. Midoriya Izuku walked over to where you were in the kitchen, automatically grabbing a flask of hot made coffee that you had made for him. He was in his own world again. His eyes distant but his actions were trained. The autopilot you had all been on, kicking in.

You knew you wouldn’t receive a good morning from him.

You barely got him to notice you half the time now.

You cleared your throat as you closed his bento and packed it away. “Izuku, remember Asahi’s science project at school. The viewing is at two.” You reminded him as you grabbed a can of soda and placed it with the rest of his lunch that you packed.

“Y/N, you know I can’t make it.” You heard him talk as he grabbed an apple as makeshift breakfast, not bothering to have breakfast with any of you anymore.

You looked at him with a pained expression. “Izuku, you promised you would go.”

You heard a sigh come out of him as he grabbed his bag and finally looked at you, stopping for five seconds. Your large husband felt so far away from you despite not being more than three steps away from you. “Y/N, I’m the Number One hero of this country. I don’t have time to always go to every recital and function.” He reminded you.

You felt annoyance bubble up inside you as your eyebrows furrowed. Your grip on your apron tightened as you looked up at him. That was always his excuse nowadays. “Izuku, you have been so busy with work lately. It would mean the world to him if you showed up. He’s been getting into arguments at schoo-”

“Y/N, I have a meeting in less than an hour.” He dismissed as he started to turn to leave the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try make it if I get time.” He waved it off as he headed towards the entrance hallway, leaving you and the boys alone once again.

You bit back the emotions of annoyance and disappointment as you let out a sigh and turned to do something else, ignoring the boys and their silence as they watched. That’s how mornings were like now. Either Izuku buzzing by too fast to even get more than a sentence out of him before he’s out the door, or he’s never there entirely.

It had been like this ever since your second youngest, Shoyo had passed away.

A villain had attacked his primary school as revenge against heroes including your husband. Your little boy had sacrificed himself along with Hanta and Mina’s youngest child, Sero Kimiko. It was a dark day in your group of friends to lose two six year olds, innocent and pure. It was a horrible incident, an even more horrible case. Your husband and other heroes were on the scene one minute too late.

It was a horrible time for all of you. You barely could call yourself a human after the funeral and even during the hearing of state vs the class A villain, Jigsaw. You don’t remember most of it, all you knew was that you didn’t even get to see your little boy’s body one final time before cremation, because there simply wasn’t anything to hold.

You couldn’t imagine the horrific sight your husband saw that day, but he only truly began to change once the court ruling had happened and Jigsaw was sentenced to the death penalty. Your husband had moved further and further away from you, almost as if being near you and the boys was torture.

You couldn’t understand it at all, but you always made excuses for him. Even when it was Toshinori’s fifteenth birthday and Izuku wasn’t there. You told your son everything under the moon to make him understand, and he did. Because he loved his father that much. But there was only so many excuses you could give for so long.

With all the kids at school and you having taken Koda to kindergarten, leaving you alone for a few hours, you decided to clean Izuku’s study. The grand room was filled with papers and books, his laptop monitors all on from the long night he spent in here after coming home from patrol. You didn’t even know how he kept on moving when it seemed like he barely slept in your own bed. You didn’t question the times he wouldn’t come home for days on end, always saying he spent his nights at the office.

You ignored the smell of perfume on his hero suits too.

You walked into the room, moving to clear his desk and the multiple mugs of empty coffee. You moved to clear all the clutter, moving classified documents into a pile where he could find them all. He worked hard, it was something you always admired about him. It was the reason why the crime rate had more than halved in the last six months.

You heard a message pop up on his monitor. He had long time connected his phone to his computer, he said it made it easier to access things sometimes. Izuku also had a habit of leaving things on when he wanted to get back to it but always getting so whirled up in his head that he never did get back to them sometimes.

You made the ugly mistake of looking up at the monitor, your eyes reading before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You watched as message after message popped up.

Suddenly it felt as if your entire world had fallen underneath your feet.

Izuku dragged a hand through his hair as he came in through the door. It was past eight and no doubt, dinner had already been eaten in the Midoriya household. He had gotten so caught up in work and other matters that time just washed by. But that’s just how time seemed to pass ever since…

His eyes automatically went to the photo in the entranceway that sat beside a candle that was always lit no matter the time of day. A photo of a little boy, not older than six, with the brightest green eyes and the biggest smile. Hair so big and curly it almost swallowed him up whole. Inko had told Izuku when Shoyo was born, that he looked the most like him out of every single one of the boys, with the same sparkle in his eyes and smile that reached the stars.

Looking at him now only made Izuku feel nothing but never-ending guilt.

Taking off his shoes, Izuku got into the house. It was that soft time when homework was either being done or the boys got to destress before their busy days tomorrow.

“Dad!” Izuku turned to see his eldest. Toshinori had his hands in his pockets as he walked over to his father. Every day it seemed like the boy was getting taller, although he still hadn’t hit that particular growth spurt. He’d probably get it in second year of high school, like Izuku had. Toshinori seemed a bit apprehensive, knowing how his father seemed much more rougher than he was before. But he couldn’t blame him. Something in all of them changed six months ago. “Evening.” He nodded his head.

It took Izuku a second before mustering up a smile. “Toshi, how was school?”

Toshinori gave a look of surprise which hurt Izuku. How long had it been since he asked his son that question? “G-good!” He let out with a smile, so excited that his father asked. “It was great! Yah, Kane and I got moved into the first team for rugby! Coach said I could really get better as long as…” A soft blush went to his face as he scratched the back of his head. “As long as I learn to stop accidentally activating One for All when I get too worked up.”

Izuku let out an amused scoff but put a hand to Toshinori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I struggled with that too even now. Just practise what I’ve already taught you and find a way to box it whenever you’re playing.” He advised. Toshinori perked up, his eyes as bright as stars as he smiled, glad to receive something from his father today. When last had he checked up on Toshinori and his use of One for All? Izuku felt sick at the thought. Izuku looked up to the empty kitchen. “Where’s mom?”

“Oh! She told me to tell you to meet her in your room. She said she had to talk to you about something. I’m not sure what.” He shrugged. “Must have to do with Asahi’s fight.”

Izuku nearly had whiplash as he turned to look back at Toshinori. “Fight? What fight?”

“Asahi got into another fight at school during the showcase. Didn’t tell me what about though.” Toshinori shrugged, but underlying worry in his demeanour.

Another?

Was this a frequent thing? Since when?

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but Toshinori beat him to it. “He’s been in his room since after dinner.”

Izuku nodded. “Thanks Toshi.” He turned to head straight upstairs. Izuku moved immediately straight into his mind at all this news. Fights? Since when did his eleven year old get into fights? Why wasn’t he told? Izuku was confused as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. He needed a shower and preferably a long night’s rest, but first he had to get down to this issue on Asahi. Your husband stepped into your bedroom. “Y/N, what is this I’m hearing about Asahi-”

“Close the door.” The tone in your voice had the green haired Number One hero freezing. It was eerily calm. It was horrifying because the only times you ever spoke like that was when you were angry. His eyebrows twitched as he looked to you as you sat on the other side of the master bedroom. The fire place in your bedroom was lit, which confused him because he didn’t think it all that cold to light a fire. Your eyes remained forward, your back towards him as you stood in the otherwise dark room. “Close the door, Midoriya.”

“Midoriya?” Izuku was confused. You hadn’t called him that since before you started dating, since third year of UA actually. It was an odd thing to hear come out of your lips, especially since you were Midoriya too. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stepped forward. “Y/N, what’s going-”

“Close the door.” This time you said it a bit more firmly, but you were careful not to shout considering your door was still open.

Izuku complied, closing the door behind him, because like everyone in your family, there were rules to your household. One rule was that only under emergency circumstances was your bedroom door to be opened without knocking or permission from the both of you. Another was that your bedroom was the one neutral place where you could both talk to one another openly and freely without worry of the kids and having to be mindful parents.

Or at least it used to be.

The room was silent and tensely so. You looked down at the fire the entire time, nothing but the sound of the burning of wood was in the room as you both stood at opposite sides of the room.

“Do you remember…” Your voice started, nearly startling your husband that felt as though he could break out into a sweat in any second. “When we started dating, you used to write me letters.” You spoke softly and yet Izuku could hear every word. He noticed then that there was burnt papers in the fire place and papers in your hand still. Pages of handwritten letters, of ink and passionate love sat in your hands. “Pages upon pages of images of your thoughts and emotions of me. Each one different than the other. Nothing was the same and yet they all carried the same undeniable feeling of you… Midoriya Izuku, the man I fell in love with.” You spoke with such delicacy, almost as if that feeling of receiving them was fresh inside you. “And yet,” Your grip on the papers grew hard. “Not even more than half a year after our fourth son’s death…” You tossed the papers into the fire, not even looking back at them as they crumbled and charred under the heat.

This was the first time Izuku saw you since coming back and the image of your face is something he would have scarred into him for the rest of his life. Tears flowed from your eyes, and yet the only look he could see on you was pure anger and disgust. You looked absolutely broken and Izuku knew in that moment that you knew.

“You cheated on me.” You whispered with such anger it almost felt like that was a slap in his face entirely. “Why?”

It was a simple question, and one that Izuku didn’t have the answer to. Izuku was shaking. He was as pale as snow and fear brimmed in his eyes for the first time in a long time and yet you didn’t care. He closed his eyes and breathed. “You know how hard it’s been for me these last few months. All the headlines and everyone saying that I wasn’t fast enough to save him. I… I’ve been swallowed up with guilt and grief.”

“You don’t think we all have?” You asked coldly, making him stiffen. You stepped forward with a scowl on your face. “I stay here and take care of our home, of our boys. Our boys who have the same face as their brother and I have to fight the urge to cry at every waking moment because I see him in their faces!” You shouted pointing at the door. “I’ve been grieving!” Your hand went to your chest, painfully so but you didn’t care how hard you squeezed. It didn’t compare to the agony in your heart that only reignited. “We’ve all been grieving! I’ve been begging you to talk to me! Telling you not to listen to the headlines and talk to me! To talk in therapy! You have no excuse!”

“I was weak!” He shouted back at you, angrier at himself than he could ever be at you. “Like always! Ochaco was there just as a friend and then it felt so easy just to talk to her and unburden with her and then…” He couldn’t say it. It felt too real if he said it. It was all just a dream to him. A fantasy he could indulge in for a few hours out of the agony. It meant nothing to him, not like how you mean the world to him.

You shrugged. “And then what? You tripped and fell into her cunt? What, Izuku!”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back at you. It was silent for another moment. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He closed his eyes as he swallowed down the heavy pill.

This was it.

This was the end.

He had ruined everything all because he felt too much of a failure to face you and would have rather run to someone else than to you. His loyal and faithful wife. His loving wife. The woman that had given him everything. He felt a tear slip out of his eye as he looked down at the ground. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not when you knew. Not when you looked at him with the very thing he wanted to avoid in the first place.

He wiped his face. “Where are the divorce papers?” He asked in a whisper.

There was a beat of silence before a scoff came out of you. You folded your arms as you stood before him. “Divorce papers?” You asked almost as if it was funny. “Oh God, no.” Immediately, Izuku looked up at you in shock. You shook your head almost as if the very thought was unthinkable. “No. I’m not going to order a divorce. Do you know why?”

Izuku knew better than to give you a real answer. He decided to stay silent as he shook his head. The sound of your shoes on the floor was deafening as you walked forward to stand right in front of him.

You pointed to the picture on your bedside table. “Because of them.” You stated honestly. “Because of the four boys that we still have. That is the reason why I’m not getting the best divorce lawyer in this damn country. That is why I am not packing my bags and taking my children far away from you so that they can hate your actions just as much as I do.” You emphasised. “I love those boys more than I care for my own sanity and soul. I love those boys so much, I am painstakingly aware of the fact that I can never divorce you because I would never be able to take care of them without you. I love them so much that I know that they love you as if you hung the stars, Izuku!” You shouted at him, tears flowing down your face. A hiccup broke your voice but it didn’t stop you. “They love you so much and yet I know it would kill them to know what you’ve done! I refuse to let our sons hate you the same way you hate your father.”

That cold hard truth came crashing down on him like ice water. It chilled him to the very bone, and stirred his stomach making him feel sick.

Your jaw shivered with emotion, but you kept your head held high. “That is why I will not divorce you. I do not wish to inflict whatever more emotional trauma they could have after the last six months. So this is what is going to happen.” You folded your arms as you looked up at him. “Oh Izuku stop crying.”

He jolted as he hadn’t realised that there were tears flowing down his face. He moved a hand to his face, feeling the wetness of tears against his skin. He looked back at you. “Thank-”

“I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t care.” You cut him off quickly shutting him up. “I don’t care if you have every girl in the whole of Japan wrapped around your finger, but those women will never set a single foot into this house or into our children’s lives, do you understand me? If word gets out about this, you damn believe I will drain you dry Izuku. I will make sure that there is nothing left of your legacy that you have cultivated.” You hissed with pure intent in every word you said.

Izuku nodded his head pathetically scared of you (rightfully so). “Y/N, I promise you, I’ll never do it again! I’ll go to therapy again! We can go together. I promise I’ll change and-”

“I don’t care because you will never touch me sexually again.” You told him flat out. “We will act, we will pose, we will sing if we damn have to, to make our boys and the rest of Japan believe that we are somewhat of a functioning team at least until they are all out of the house. But Izuku know this…” You stepped forward as you looked up at him.

This was the man you had fallen in love with. A man who held your heart in the palm of his hand so easily that it was probably foolish of you to have loved him as much as you did. You loved Midoriya Izuku. You loved his smile, his muttering, his large scarred hands that held a world full of problems but still held you tenderly, you loved his laugh, you loved his heart. You loved the man standing in front of you.

“I love you.” You let out brokenly, taking the both of you by surprise. You nodded your head with a smile, a smile so broken it looked wrong on your face. “I love you, and you are the father of my children and my partner, but you will never again be my husband.”

Izuku didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t breathe. He was stuck there like a statue but you still continued.

“Now…” You brushed down your front. “I have to go give Toshinori his acceptance letter to UA. I advise you clean yourself up first before you go anywhere near my son.” You moved to walk right past him, your shoes deafening as you walked out the room closing the door behind him.

Izuku was motionless still, even without you in the room.

This was a worser fate than a divorce. Being trapped with the love of his life and never feeling her love back in return. Being married but never being your husband ever again.

“Morning mom!”

“Morning mom!”

A kiss went to your cheek as you were finishing up breakfast. Toshinori smiled at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Good morning, mom.”

You let out a chuckle, trying to fill in the void and hollow feeling inside you. You grabbed your eldest son, bringing him into a hug as he laughed. “There’s my hero!” he grabbed a hold of you, picking you up off your feet making you shout in surprise. You had forgotten that with One for All he had also inherited his father’s strength. “Toshinori!” You shouted out in surprise. “Put me down!”

He laughed and held you tight, but put you back on your feet. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved to switch off the stove and grab plates out of the cabinet. The heavy footsteps of your husband were heard as he descended from upstairs. You didn’t bother to look up at him.

Izuku looked a bit less like the mess you left him in last night. You had told him that for the night he wasn’t allowed in your bedroom, and he would stay in the office he cared about more than you in the last six months. He wore sweatpants as he kept one hand in his pockets and came down.

Asahi looked up from where he was setting the table. “Morning dad!”

“Morning buddy.” Izuku forced a smile to his face as he walked over to the table. He pulled Asahi in for a hug making his eyes go wide in surprise. The other boys looked at their father confused but didn’t say anything. “How did you sleep?”

“…fine.” He answered, glancing at you. You shrugged, acting to be oblivious. He did the same thing with Hero as well, before coming over to do the same with Toshinori.

Toshinori looked up at his father in surprise. “Morning dad… is your shift later in the day?” He asked as he noticed his father’s rather casual attire. He normally would just sleep in or rest more and let the four of you have breakfast by yourselves.

Izuku hesitated but shook his head as he moved over to grab an extra plate, noticing that the number of plates Toshinori had gotten was just for the four of you excluding him. “No.” He answered rather blankly. Izuku took his plate as well as the other plates that Toshinori was holding and went to go put them on the table. Asahi noticed the extra plate and went to go and grab more cutlery.

Breakfast was finished and so you all moved to the table. You kept notice of the time, wondering if you should wake up Koda or not. You sat next to Izuku on his right side like before, as he sat at the head of the table. Toshinori sat beside you, not wanting to sit on the other side of his father today. Your three eldest boys sat quietly, not touching their plates either as they looked between you and their father. You looked to Izuku and for a moment your husband froze.

That was the look you always gave him whenever you all used to sit at the table together. You would sit together and you would let him lead. Izuku felt horrible knowing that you were perfect. You always used to make it so important that the boys learnt from him in being a good male figure, no matter what. And yet as you looked at him now, all he saw was emptiness in your eyes. Rightfully so.

He cleared his throat and smiled. He put his hands together. “Thank you for the food.” The boys quickly followed afterwards before you all started eating. You sat posed and composed as if last night wasn’t one of the worst nights of your life. Izuku looked up at the three boys. “Actually boys…” He started.

The three of them looked up, heads of green hair perking up as they looked to their large Prohero father who sat at the head of the table. You were quiet as you let him say whatever piece he wanted to say. Whether he wanted to tell the boys or not, you wouldn’t intervene.

“I owe an apology to all of you.” He started. Toshinori’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at you with an emotionless expression but then looked back at his father. “To you and…” He motioned to the three of them before moving to look at you. You put your hand down silently allowing whatever he was doing. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it and yet you didn’t squeeze back. “And to your mother. The last six months have been…” He paused. A heavy pause that everyone felt. “Difficult for all of us and I haven’t been around as much as I should have. I’m sorry about that. And so… I’ve decided that I am taking some time off.”

All the boys whipped their heads to look at you as if asking you if it was true. You shrugged. You didn’t know either where this decision had come from, but you were glad that it seemed like he was making true to whatever dribble he had tried to sprout out last night to you.

Toshinori hesitated but looked back at his father with an optimistic look on his face. “That’s… That’s great dad.” He smiled. He looked to his brothers.

Hero and Asahi seemed more excited than you had seen them in a while. Hero nodded his head. “Yah! And just in time for break too! Maybe we can go on a road trip!” He spoke out an idea.

Izuku laughed but nodded. “I was thinking more of a vacation but whatever you boys want.”

“Oh!” Asahi perked up. “What about Australia?”

Toshinori shook his head. “Nah.” He took a bite of his toast. “Mom hates the giant spiders.”

“How about Greece?!” Hero suggested. “Mom was watching Mamma Mia two weeks ago! That place looked so cool and blue!”

You watched the boys bicker about a family vacation which brought a smile to your face. You were glad to see they were some semblances of happy for the first time in a long time.

Your eyes flicked down to where Izuku had his hand over yours still. You gripped his hand immediately taking his attention. You smiled at him as you leaned forward closer to his ear. “Good job, honey.” You said, enough that if the boys looked it would have been innocent, but Izuku knew what that was. He didn’t need it spelt out to him.

You placed a kiss to his lips, brief and to the point, making the boys gag. “Ew!”

“Mom! Please not at the table!” Asahi let out in deep exasperation.

Izuku was still for a moment, tears burning at his eyes. Your kiss was fake. Your praise was fake. Everything was a show, a play for the boys to be happy. You were still disappointed in him. You would always be disappointed in him.

He let out a shaky breath and smiled. “Hey! Leave my wife alone.” He said jokingly.

No matter what, he’d carry for the rest of his life, the fact that he had disappointed you.

-Glitch1d

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

[hecateslore]

Hello! Hello! Hello! I read your Papa Simon fics and I am nust thrilled and smitten by them. I don't know if you are taking requests but if you are then can I request for him supporting Nova in her school organization duties like if their org has a page on socmed then Simon would react or comment on it. Thank youuuu

hellooo bb!!! and thank you so much for the love 💗

*nova's like 15 here!

Papa!Simon absolutely hates the idea of social media, it's kinda of crazy the lengths he would go to make sure no one is posting personal information, or if anyone's account is public.

So when he finds out the school is posting Novalynn online without her parent's permission, he's having a blast :)

Your daughter was on her schools robotics team, and you were aware of them posting the schools progress, not that you knew what was happening half the time but you were supportive of your daughter.

Of course Nova has her Instagram, that's extremely private and that Simon makes sure to check every single follower to make sure it's his daughters friends and not some weirdo creep stalking his family, you know, regular parenting things! So when you bring up the group photo at dinner, all hell breaks loose.

"What group photo?" Simon cocks a brow, "It was for my school." your daughter says casually, stabbing at the potatoes on her plate, "You looked pretty," You smile, "Thanks," She mumbles stuffing her mouth, Simon sat at the other end next to the boys still extremely confused about the group picture. "Wait for a second.. how did you see the picture?" Simon questions you. "Instagram," You shrug, "Did they ask you?"

"Dad it's not that serious," Nova interrupts, "Hush." He shushes her and she rolls her eyes at him. "Uh no?" You say confused, "You should've," he says,"Simon it's not that deep," you chuckle, "it is, because she's fifteen."

"Bring me your phone." he demands "Why?" your daughter complains, "Just bring it to me." He says once more. "Here we go," You sigh, "I don't have pictures on my instagram." You're eldest son sighs, which comes out more sad than it should "Good. you don't need any." He affirms. You roll your eyes and turn and see you daughter waking down the steps with her bright orange phone in hand. "Show me,"

"Oh my god this is so stupid."

After dinner you sat in your home office, emailing the school's principal to get the picture taken down. "Mom this is so dumb," your daughter stands beside you watching draft up a very polite email.

"You want me doing this or your dad?" You raise a brow, She lets out a sigh, "Everyone's gonna think I'm weird." She complains, "No they won't." You try and assure her. "Yes they will," She drawls placing her forehead on your shoulder, You place a kiss the crown of her head, "Go eat some ice-cream." You pat her arm.

Nova walks out of the office passing by Simon, she makes sure to ignore him. "What a drama queen." He says approaching you. "Don't start." You say, finishing the email.

Simon watches you type and finish, "Go apologize to her," You say, He was about to start but you hold up a finger, "She already feels alienated enough, and you doing this, is making it worse." Simon lets out a sigh at your words. "Go." You scold.

Watching his tall frame begrudgingly walk out of the room exactly like his Daughter

[syoddeye]

~1.2k words. Price x gn!Reader. CW: controlling behavior, stalking/location tracking, brief sexual content

After your abrupt ‘engagement’, you argue. Refusing to unpack your things at John’s place—your place, now—you explain it’s normal for couples to discuss things like living together and marriage before they happen. John disagrees.

It’s supposed to be a surprise, sweetheart. And isn’t my place better? Bigger?

He watches you pace around his flat, a little smug when you finally set out your toiletries. Isn’t this much simpler, he whispers, rubbing your shoulders as you tearfully list your couch for sale. No more back and forth. Significantly lower bills and rent, as he insists on paying for more than half. His furniture is newer, too, though the place could use some color. He’s happy to take you shopping and let you pick new decor. 

It’s not the couch you’re upset about. It’s the loss of your own space. Again, you attempt to explain. John shushes and comforts you in his favorite way, on your back, buried deep in a slow grind. He holds you at the knife point of pleasure, at the very edge, and asks if you really hate his place so much or miss your lumpy, old furniture. Guilts it out of you, withholding, until you concede you don’t hate it and please please please—

The first week runs long. He bends you over in the kitchen, joins you in the shower, and pushes you against the door when you get home from work. Where you once complained of not having enough of his attention, you find yourself barraged. You stop by a new bookstore at lunch on a Friday, and he calls, voice tight, the jingling of his keys louder than any bullet. Where are you? Who are you with? A bookstore? Lovely, send a selfie. You nearly die of embarrassment when an employee catches you awkwardly holding up your phone in the romance section and scuttle out.

It happens whenever you go somewhere without him. A coworker’s birthday happy hour. A short visit to meet a friend’s new puppy. A long walk at the park. Even when he is occupied, John finds time to badger you. After he hounds you at a work dinner, demanding a photo with your boss, you decide enough is enough. The mystery app needs to go.

Through careful fishing and research, you learn your coworker's girlfriend's best friend knows a tech guy. You set up a dummy email, exchange a few messages, and agree to meet at the coffee shop across the street from the office. It's not the most brilliant location, but it's believable enough when you mention to John that you're treating a coworker to lattes that afternoon. He squeezes your thigh when he drops you off and wishes you a good day.

The man—no names, for everyone's safety—is overcharging you, but it's worth it if it works. You don't want to think about what will happen if it doesn't. He meets you at a table with a small toolkit. He's fidgety and quiet, but polite and more interested in the puzzle of the app than the circumstances. The fewer questions, the better. He asks you to order drinks while he gets to work. You order, pay, chat with the barista about their handmade earrings, and when you turn to check his progress...He's gone. Phone and all.

You panic. 

John. 

John will know. He will call and text. Your mind leapfrogs to the worst scenario—what if he follows the thief, thinking it's you? How could you be so stupid. You abandon the coffee, barely hold off the waterworks, and sprint back to your office. Shoving into your manager's office, you beg to use their landline. It's an emergency.

For the first time in weeks, John doesn't pick up the phone. You try twice before your boss's worried side eye forces you back to your desk, tail tucked between your legs; so much for an emergency. You think of borrowing a coworker's phone to at least call the police and report the theft, but you know it'll make things worse with John. Your only option is to wait until five o'clock.

Like always, John waits out front. You force a smile and slip into the passenger seat with a knot in place of your heart. Your chest has never felt tighter.

He's on the phone and shoots you an apologetic smile, then points at the digital display. Laswell. Work. You suppose it gives you more time to find the words to explain what happened.

John misses the first turn on the usual route home. Then another. Your eyes dart to him, but he's absorbed in the drive and his phone call. They're talking about Urzikstan, his words clipped and terse as they typically are on calls when you're present. You grip the edges of your seat, your stomach turning over when he gets on the road leading out of town and into the hills. You rake your memory, thinking of where he could possibly be taking you.

Eventually, forty-five minutes into the drive, the town far behind you, he ends the call. He drops his phone into the console and pats your knee. The jolt from his palm prompts you to blurt out the lie you concocted, not wanting to give him a chance to become upset over your errant location.

You tell him: It all happened so fast, John. At the cafe with your coworker and set your phone down on the corner of the table. As a man left the shop, he grabbed it on the way out and ran off. You tried calling, upset he didn't answer, and you didn't know what to do.

John hums, his expression unreadable in the dimming light of day. He answers your frantic confession by pulling off the road onto an overlook and telling you you've arrived with a small smile.

It's a little chilly, but he tucks you into his side and marvels at the view of the valley. He still hasn't addressed the 'theft'. It worries you, thinking of his festering anger. He glides his hand down your back, squeezes your waist, and then quietly tells you to quit your job.

I don’t think that place is good for you.

You look up and find John staring, smiling, but you’ve seen those eyes before.

Those people are a bad influence. You’ve never been careless like that. I make more than enough for the both of us, anyway.

Before you think of a response, he drops to one knee, and pulls a ring from his jacket. In front of the sunset, he professes his love for you in a real proposal.

Make me the happiest man in the world, and I will do everything in my power to keep you happy.

You're unsure if you imagine the emphasis on 'keep', but you are suddenly quite aware of how far away you are from civilization, without a phone, with a man trained to kill. Tears slip down your cheeks, and when you accept, the words shudder out of you on the exhale. He kisses the rest of the air out of your lungs. Despite the open sky above you, it's suffocating.

See? You like surprises, sweetheart.

Deep breaths. Smile and nod.

Will you get the champagne out of the boot?

The weight of the engagement ring on your finger feels like an anchor. You stare at it, glinting in the fading sunlight, and wordlessly open the rear door to find a picnic basket. Champagne, chocolates, flowers—and nestled in the center, your phone.

[spookysteddie]

Call It What You Want

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

18+ Minors DNI

part two

cw: unsupportive parents, hint at mentally abusive mother, negative media attention, talk of sex tape, food mentions (they go on a dinner date), reader is in therapy. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 2.8k

a/n: I've decided to make this a series that is loosely based off of reputation by Taylor swift. It literally all came to me in a dream last night lmao. If anyone has requests for these two and wants me to create lore pleeeeaaaseee request it. This is so fun for me!

...

Do not disturb was the best thing that could’ve ever been added to phones. Specifically because, without it, you would’ve gotten less sleep than you did (thanks to Eddie). 

Your phone is filled with messages, emails from the press asking for comments and messages from your parents. You’re barely awake before checking the tabloids and, as expected, you and Eddie are the top headlines. Everyone has something to say about your escapades last night, videos of you at the concert, photos of you getting out of the car with him and videos from the club. 

Social media influencer and rockstar Eddie Muson seen out together since miss Asher confessed her love for him

Good girl y/n Asher and Bad Boy Eddie Muson spotted together 

Is y/n Asher going down a dark path?

Social Media influencer shedding her good girl image as she parties with Corroded Coffin

You knew there would be some drama associated with you partying with the band. You knew there would be fans who would be disappointed in you. You also knew there was a high possibility someone would have photos of you around little white lines, leading to some assumptions about you. 

You didn’t care. 

You check your parents texts next and your stomach drops.

Momma: What are you doing out with that man?! Do you know his reputation? 

Papa: The last thing you need is your reputation being ruined! You will ruin your future if you continue with him.

The phone is taken out of your hand before you can respond to them, Eddie locking it and placing it behind you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving light kisses on your bare skin. 

“You shouldn’t read what those pricks have to say.” He continues to leave kisses along your skin, “most of them talk out of their asses and don’t understand.” 

He’s right, of course you know that. You’ve had the most misogynistic shit written about you that you knew they would never write about the man behind you. You could smile weird and all of a sudden you’re the biggest cunt ever. You can never win. 

You sigh, settling into his hold. It’s not that you care about your reputation, shit like that changes faster than the weather and it’s not worth it to stress about it. But also, this is your job and the last thing you need is to lose sponsorships because you’re fucking Eddie. 

“I know. It’s just annoying cause no one is writing mean shit about you. It’s always about me and my life.” 

He hums, “nothing like good old fashion misogyny.” He says it with a shit load of sarcasm, knowing misogyny is not a good thing at all. But it makes you giggle all the same. 

“Wait!” You sit up, almost smacking him in the face with your head, “the poll! I wanna see it.” 

He grins as he hands you your phone. You ignore your parents, deciding you’ll deal with them later, and open up instagram. You win by a landslide, 86% of your followers voted you as prettier. 

Eddie laughs behind you. You turn to look at him, a huge grin on your face, “you owe me a date, Munson.” 

His eyes fall to your lips, making you lean in a little closer, “hows tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” you whisper as you close the gap and kiss him. 

… 

You can’t avoid your parents by the time you get home. They’ve been calling you for hours (hours you spent tangled up with Eddie in his bed). You know for a fact that it’ll be worse if you continue to ignore them. 

They answer within the first ring, “About time you called us back. We’ve been calling you for hours!” 

“Yes, momma, I know. I was busy with Case and Anna.” 

You hear her exasperated sigh from your mother, “yeah? For what? Cleaning up the mess you made last night?”

You’re trying to keep your composure, not wanting to yell at your mother, no matter how many times she made you feel horrible about any little decision you made. She was still your mother. 

“Case and Anna knew about all of that. Ran it by them first like I’m supposed to do.” 

Your mothers attitude only grows, “so what they just approved of you running around with someone known to do drugs? Are you doing drugs? So help me God, y/n, if I find out your doing drugs, I will fly out th-” 

“Mom, I am not doing drugs. I went to his show, somewhere I’ve been before by the way, and then we went to a club. Which is something I do on the weekends anyway. I don’t see the big deal.” 

You hear her huff, “don’t you dare give me attitude, little girl.” You hate when she calls you that. It’s been her little tool your entire life. She's done it to make you feel small, to make you feel insignificant and, try as you might, it gets to you. 

“You better not be seen with him again, got it?” 

You can feel the anger getting to you, “mom, I am 25 years old. I don’t need you to tell me who I can and cannot date. He was very respectful actually. Didn’t pressure me to do anything. Now, I have some things to film before tonight.” You hang up before she can say anything else, throwing your phone onto your vanity and running your hands down your face.  

Hana clears her throat from where she’s leaning against the door frame. You know she heard that entire conversation. You’d told her when you got home everything, including your parents non-stop calling.

She hands you a coffee, made just how you like, “how was that?” 

You take a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, “same old mom. Thinks I’m ruining my life and my reputation.” 

“Well, do you think you’re ruining your life and reputation?” 

This is one thing you love about Hana is she doesn’t baby you. Ever. She always allows you room to feel your feelings before she gives you her opinion. But she also makes sure you are able to give a name to what you’re feeling. And right now, you’re feeling frustrated. 

“No. Hana, he was amazing. He was respectful and he always asked what I wanted. And god the sex was fantastic,” you sigh wistfully. “And we’re going out on a date tomorrow. Just him and I. And I was really excited but of course my mother likes to ruin everything.” 

Hana sits on the chair next to the vanity, taking your hand, “Listen to me, if you have a good feelin’ about it, I say go for it. I didn’t get any strange feelings or vibes last night, the opposite really. Also, fuck a reputation. Taylor Swift’s was six feet in the ground and look at her now. Do what makes you happy.” 

You can feel the tightness in your chest, backs of your eyes burning. All you can do is pull her into a bone crushing hug.

… 

You’re pretty much over your mothers comments by the next night. Of course your therapist heard all the details and said, basically, exactly what Hana did. She also told me that I am an adult and I am more than able to make my own choices when it comes to things like drugs and alcohol.

She’s right of course. 

And so, because of this realization that isn’t a realization, you keep the date with Eddie. In fact you’re more than excited to go. To see him again. You filmed all your content, posting the other nights ‘spend the day with me’ video you made.

You’ve even gained a shit ton of followers as well, most of them fans of the bands. Now, don’t get it twisted, the uptick in followers also means an uptick in hate comments and unfollows. You don’t care. Those people are entitled to follow whoever they want and the mean people clearly just have a lot going on in life. It comes with the territory. 

Eddie, however, has texted you non stop and follows every single social media account you have. Even commenting on the videos and photos you posted. That got the press talking more and birthed a shit ton more butterflies into your belly. 

Eddie didn’t give you much information on what this date would be. All he told you was to dress nice and bring a jacket because it’s ‘getting chilly and you can’t catch a cold.’ You tried explaining that’s not how colds work but he wasn’t having it. And so, you pick out one of your favorite dresses, short and black that makes your tits look killer, with stockings that snap onto a garter hidden under your dress. Of course you added a long trench coat just to keep you warm. 

Eddie picks you up at 7pm on the dot, not a second later. Again, the bar is in hell because the fact that he is on time makes you want to kick your feet like a little girl. He looks delicious, dressed in his black jeans and a black button up. He grins when you open the door, the chilly night air tickling your legs.

“Give me a spin, Miss Asher,” he smiles. 

He takes your hand, spinning you around a few times. Once semi quickly and once very slowly, drinking you in like he’s been in the desert for years. It’s kindling to the fire inside your heart, warming you from the inside out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He kisses your cheek, never letting go of your hand. 

You can feel your entire body heat, a shudder wracking through you. “You’re beautiful too. So, so, pretty.” 

You watch a blush tinge his cheeks, “no one has ever called me pretty to my face… and meant it.” 

He opens the door to his car as he speaks, making sure you don’t hit your head getting in before running around to the other side and settling in the driver's seat.

“Well, for the record, I do mean it. I mean, who in the hell looks that gorgeous first thing in the morning?” You giggle as you say it, fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it twice, “you.” 

That makes you smile the entire way to the restaurant. 

… 

This is the most beautiful date you’ve ever been on. 

Eddie had it all planned out perfectly. There was no press standing outside, waiting to take candid shots. He rented out the entire restaurant so that there would be no interruptions, just you and him and the small waitstaff. Flowers litter the floor, a small walkway leading to the table, a bottle of your favorite wine sitting in ice. 

You smile, looking up at him with hearts in your eyes. He can feel his heart racing, scared you aren’t going to like it or it’s too much or he’s scared you away. It feels like it’s forever before you answer him. “This is beautiful, Eddie. You didn’t… you didn’t have to do all this. But it’s so appreciated.” 

He gives you a swift kiss, his heart feeling like it’s going to burst, “you deserve it. You deserve to feel appreciated and cared for.” 

“Well, that is exactly how I feel right now.”  

Eddie pulls out your chair, letting you sit before he takes his own. The candles on the table flicker, casting Eddie in the most beautiful glow ever. He’s radiant, beautiful, and you don’t know how anyone could hate him. You felt like you could see his soul when he looks at you, kind, sweet, angelic. 

The waiter interrupts your thoughts, introducing himself and pouring the wine. And once all the food is ordered, it’s just you and Eddie. Suddenly, you’re nervous. 

“Did you have a good day yesterday?” You cringe slightly at the generic question. You’d talked to him all day yesterday between filming and his studio time. Releasing a new album takes a lot of time, more time than more people would think. 

“It was good. I feel like we finally have the sound we’re going for nailed down. S’gonna be similar to what we always do, of course. But I felt like, based off the songs we wrote, we needed a more,” he sipped his wine, thinking about how to describe the sound. “... sensual sound. Sexy if you will.” 

You giggle a little, “so you basically wrote about your groupies.” You’re joking, of course, not really caring about the people who came before you. Kind of. 

He raises his brows, shaking his head, “no. I actually spent most of yesterday rewriting the songs I wrote. Not all of them, but a good few.” 

“Oh! So did you record at all yesterday?” Again, it’s a generic question, but you’re genuinely interested in the process and how his mind works. 

He nods, “we did! It’s fucking thrilling to get what’s in my brain into actual art. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job.” 

Eddie's eyes practically sparkle as he talks about how exciting his job is. You love to see it, honestly. It’s the same look he gets when he’s on stage, fans screaming and singing the songs he wrote back to him. You can imagine that’ll get someone real high. 

He interrupts your thoughts, “can I ask you a question?”

You freeze, stomach falling to your ass. It’s never good when someone starts off like that. You grab your wine trying to hide your shaking hands, “yes of course!” 

“To me, it feels like there is something missing in a few of the songs. I’m pretty sure it’s y-your voice,” his stutter makes you feel a little better inside. He’s nervous. “So I was wondering if you’d wanna record some things with me?”

“Eddie, I can’t sing.” 

He smirks because you didn’t say no. “You don’t have to. I just need your voice. For the record, when I say record some things with me I don’t mean like sex videos… unless you’re into that.” You both laugh at how ridiculous he is, but a small pulse between your thighs tells you that you might be into making a little movie for just you and him. 

“While sex videos could be fun, that shit is so scary. Anyone can hack into whatever we use and boom… careers over. As for my voice, absolutely. I’m honored actually.” And you are. To have your voice be on something forever is so fucking cool. Of course, the internet is forever, but to you, it’s different when it’s music. 

“One more question…” 

You nod, motioning for him to continue. 

“Can I use your moans in a song?” 

You nearly choke on your wine, eyes going wide. “My-my moans? Like from when we have sex?” 

“Mhm. They are so fucking beautiful, baby. As much as I want to keep every part of you for myself, your moans would fit perfectly in this one song I have.” 

You have to be 50 shades of fucked up because you’re actually fucking touched that he thinks that part of you is pretty enough to put in his music. No one has to know if they’re real or not. And you don’t even have to answer the questions if anyone asks if it’s you. 

You laugh, shaking your head, “you, Eddie Munson, are crazy. I’m here for it but do you think your fans will like it? I don’t want you to do this just because we fucked the other night. I like you and you don’t have to put my anything in songs to get me to stick around. I don’t just like you because you make music.” 

He looks a little stunned, almost like he doesn’t believe you. “I… you don’t have to lie, baby. I mean, fuck, I’m not trying to call you a liar. I just am not used to people liking me as me. Usually they just want me because then it’s like a bragging thing. Not that, that’s what you are here for. Fuck, I am really fucking this up.” He rubs the back of his neck, his other hand clenched. 

You grab that hand, forcing yours into it and rubbing your thumb on his wrist, “I understand what you mean, Eddie. I’m not offended. But I mean what I said. I’m not here to further my career. I’m here because I’ve had a sickening crush on you for years. My poor friends have had to listen to me go on and on about it.” You laugh, feeling your face heat as you confess all this to him. 

“Really?” He looks like a boy, big, brown puppy eyes staring up at you. 

You nod, “really. Hana was ready to throw me a party because I finally got a date with you.”  

He laughs, the sound loud and from his belly. 

You decide right then that you will do whatever it takes to keep him forever.

[alicerosejensen]

Find me pt.1

Warning: kidnapping, mention of blood, two-person narrative (Leon v reader), castle with bioweapons, angst, trauma, dark, forced relationships, hints of sexual violence.

Summary: half a year. That’s exactly how long it took Leon to get on your trail and try to find you. He is ready to do anything to get you back, but hope fades every day.

A/N: I'll probably still post this when I get inspired. The warnings will vary depending on each chapter. You can think of this story as a big reference to another Capcom game.

I apologize for any mistakes because English is not my native language.

Feedback is welcome, but no insults please.

Prologue here.

His eyes closed by themselves from lack of sleep when Leon looked at the received data, which for him is now equal to the treasure, or more precisely, the key to the treasure is to you. Ingrid said that this could turn out to be a false trail, the threads that he had been looking for for so long turned out to be either a waste of time, or led to a dead end stopping the whole thing. And only now, six months later, a single clue that appeared literally out of nowhere makes you drop everything and try to find you.

Hannigan looks at the audio file trying to determine whether it is a fake or not. She runs it through a lot of programs trying to make sure that it's not gluing while Leon is standing next to her, clutching the back of the chair she was sitting at.

"Tell me this is a real recording," the tone of his voice was almost pleading and at the same time scared as he heard your recorded crying over and over again.

"Yeah." Hannigan's hesitant voice made Leon lower his head and look at the woman who continued to click her fingers on the keyboard.

"Hannigan?"

"We don't know when this recording was made…Maybe it's a trap. Another false trail that will lead nowhere. We've checked everything Leon! We found a car with DNA traces, but the trail ended. There were no witnesses, no recordings from the cameras, it was as if she had fallen through the ground."

Leon froze. The arguments were weighty, but what does he have besides this record?

"What's the point of being trapped after six months?" He sees Ingrid biting her lip trying to squeeze out as much data as possible. "If this was a kidnapping for ransom or luring me out, they would immediately get in touch, but nothing. So it wasn't me or the money that was needed, but my wife."

"However, we have not been able to find a motive. I checked all the documents, passport, parents, records from the hospital where y/n was born - there is nothing that could give us a tip. It's all clear."

"Or we don't see something," he sighed.

Leon was sure that something was missing. But it was not on the surface, but somewhere in the depths, which is not so easy to get to. When he was informed about the shots in his house and found a mess with a syringe lying on the floor, he really had hope that he would be contacted very soon. He waited a week, then a second without leaving the search, because with the current level of technology it is impossible to completely cover up all traces so that they lead nowhere, and in the end Ingrid quickly found a car with traces of your hair and drops of blood on the back seat, but that was it. You became one of those who mysteriously went missing.

But no one asked for money, no one sent any extortionate emails or calls. At one point, Hannigan even put forward the theory that you could have initiated your abduction yourself, but he refused to believe it. Why would you leave like that if you could just break up with him, even though on the day you left, Leon was ready to swear that everything was fine between you.

So it just didn't make sense.

Leon speaks softly. He is pacing the room, waiting for additional information, at least from where this recording was sent to him. The sound of the keys echoes in his head and Leon rubs his face tiredly, stopping his gaze at your photo.

"There was a drug in the syringe, there was her blood on the needle and on the floor, in total two shots were fired from the Matilda, one into the closet and the other into the ceiling... traces of a struggle..." Leon quietly wondered out loud, trying to understand what he could have missed, but it seems more there was nothing left that he could grab onto.

"Leon?" Ingrid suddenly called and Leon was next to her in one sharp movement. “I think I found it!”

A map and tracked coordinates appeared on the screen, presumably from the place where the recording with your request for help was sent.

"This..."

“Not low beam”

Leon twitched anxiously, seeing the designated forest area, looking meaningfully at Hannigan, who rested her chin on her hand, not believing what she found. At one time, intelligence discovered Ashley in a godforsaken Spanish village, but she was kidnapped with the aim of infecting her with a plaga and sending her to Graham, and what Leon saw on the map defied any logic. How did you end up in a mountain range in another country?

“This is Leon’s mistake. There is nothing there, mountains and forest, another mistake, someone made a cruel joke.”

“Not if there is any hint of civilization there.”

It was an unnecessary risk. Hannigan is still trying to find at least some information about the nearest village in these places. On the one hand, it’s an ideal place to hide a person, but on the other hand, there are no guarantees that you will end up there and that Leon won’t go to hell in a meaningless search. Suddenly you have been dead for a long time, although Ingrid’s female intuition tells her that until he finds your body or at least clear evidence of your death, Leon will continue to sniff out the trail of his beloved, like a devoted bloodhound, even if there are no traces left.

You are not the daughter of the president, only the forces of Leon and Hannigan are sent to search for you, the latter helps him only out of the kindness of her heart, and no one will send reconnaissance to find at least something that indicates that you were even really in this place. But Leon worked as an agent for too long, he saw the underside of this world and in theory assumed that there might be a house or village in which you are being kept for some unknown reason, but even if it’s all a trap and you are bait, then Leon is ready to go there.

"Nothing, Leon," Hannigan's annoyed voice must cut off hope. He himself sees no signs of human life on the screen. “No one even reports missing people in populated areas”

“I don’t have anything else anyway, right?” he answers confidently, taking his phone to get the exact coordinates “The fact that there is nothing on the map and no one reported missing tourists means nothing. There are places that someone hides very well.”

“This is your personal mission… I won't be able to help you there. I can book tickets, find someone to help with the weapons, but no outside support. You'll be on your own there.” Ingrid drawled sadly, hoping that he would come to his senses or at least weigh everything again before taking an unjustified risk, "You don't know what awaits you there, perhaps there is nothing there except trees, wild animals and mountains. Let's check it out again?!"

"For six months!" he exclaimed, "I've been trying for six months as a bloodhound to find at least something that can shed light on the kidnapping of my fiancee. I have the coordinates and her message for help, which you yourself confirmed was not falsified. Even if I can't find anything, I'll at least try. She wasn't taken away for money or to get back at me… there's something else there, and if she's there…" Leon poked his finger at the monitor, "then she's completely alone there. Defenseless and vulnerable to any danger if they want to harm her."

There was an oppressive silence. It was useless to convince Leon to wait at least a little longer before rushing headlong for a single straw, but she had already delayed him enough. All Hannigan could do for him was squeeze out any crumbs of information about the area, record it, and help with the equipment. At least the technical component. And if they both believed in God, they could pray for a successful return.

"Allright, have it your way." she spread her hands in surrender.

The awakening was painful and difficult. However, between brief glimpses of wakefulness that quickly ended with another dream, you could feel Leon's gentle touches all over your body. His breath on your neck and lips was like an apologetic kiss. You tried to dodge, as you usually did in the morning when you were still asleep, but he was persistent, after which you vaguely heard laughter through the veil… Heavy, broken, unlike Leon's usual laugh. Random images flashed before your eyes, and the last thing that made you fully wake up was the bang of your head on the floor and the sound of a gunshot, after which you abruptly opened your eyes, looking straight at the dark ceiling, trying to figure out what happened.

Tick tock tick tock

The sound of the clock ticking filled the space, remaining for a while the only thing your mind could focus on. Your head was pounding painfully as you stared madly at the dial, standing a few meters away from you, barely discerning what time it was. The lump on your forehead throbbed unpleasantly and may have caused a concussion after that bastard hit your head on the floor with all his might so that you lost consciousness. Feeling with your fingers the place where the skin painfully swelled, you painfully hissed down immediately removing your hand, stopping it and tried to breathe deeply trying to put the latest events in chronological order.

However, nausea rolled in waves, forcing you to squeeze the bedclothes in your hands and finally realize that the environment in which you are unfamiliar.

A dark room lit by a single fireplace in which a fire was still burning warmed the space making it less frightening, but the pouring moonlight from the window made the soul shrink from the horror of the unknown. You slowly looked around realizing that you were lying on a huge bed with a giant canopy of a delicate green shade on silk bedding of the same color. Everything seemed so unreal. As if it were a nightmare and now someone will jump out from around the corner at you and you will wake up realizing that nothing terrible really happened, but after sitting on the bed in one position for several minutes without moving in the hope of waking up, in the end you realized that you were no longer sleeping.

Your eyes involuntarily began to look at paintings by unknown artists. A portrait of a woman sitting at a small table with a human skull on it, an aristocrat with noble features as if carved out of stone, ordinary landscapes… You put your feet down on the cold stone floor, immediately shuddering and slowly wandered to the window to understand your location, but all you saw outside was an endless forest area without a hint of roads.

Listening to other sounds besides the annoying knocking of the clock and the fire, you hugged yourself by the shoulders, thinking that it was definitely not worth shouting just yet. The room you were in was clearly made in the Gothic style and in the current situation it only caused discomfort, given the fact that upon closer examination of the paintings you were able to understand that in front of you were originals and not reproductions. Old Varnish should have been removed a long time ago, perhaps it made these stories less dark, but this is clearly not something that should be thought about now. Turning around in search of some kind of closet to throw on something warm, you could see clothes neatly laid out on a dusty chair: a white shirt with wide cuffs tapered at the wrist, which was probably worn with a short tapered floral pink vest without sleeves, reminiscent of a corset with lacing on the chest, dark trousers and elegant boots next to them that look like they are made of real leather. The sole is small but looks comfortable and is just your size.

Examining the clothes in his hands, it was impossible not to notice the quality of the fabric, for the shirt was clearly silk, and besides, next to it, on an elegant carved table, someone had carefully left a metal box with decoration and a fresh red rose, which until recently seemed , bloomed in some garden, filling the air with its aroma.

You lowered your hands, taking the box in your hands, carefully opening it, as if a spider or other crawling crap might jump out of it, which always filled you with uncontrollable horror, but nothing catastrophic happened. Inside was a cameo brooch, decorated along the edge with fifty small stones resembling diamonds, and at the bottom hung a drop of pearls. Leon once gave you something similar, but it was in no way comparable to what was now in your hands. It was clearly worth your year's salary. It’s not like you had a choice… in the corner of the room, of course, there was a chest of drawers, but you couldn’t find anything in it except snow-white sheets, and you didn’t really want to walk around in negligence. Considering the fact that you were given no choice and that at least the clothes looked comfortable, you decided to comply, scared by the fact that everything fit perfectly as if it was tailor-made for you. You even caught the brooch on your vest because someone probably left it here on the table on purpose.

“Well, at least I feel a little better,” you thought, sighing as you found the mirror. The lack of light made it difficult to judge how bad the bump on his forehead was, but perhaps that was for the best. There were still no footsteps or sounds in the room behind the wooden door, but so you quickly put your hair in a not-so-neat bun so that it wouldn't get in the way while you explored the area and tried to figure out what happened to you after you were attacked and left here.

Perhaps you should find a phone and contact Leon or the police directly… There must be some connection, right? Looking back again, trying not to pay attention to the slight dizziness and nausea, your gaze lingered on a metal plate hanging directly above the fireplace with some kind of inscription engraved on it, but you did not look at it or at other objects in the room. . Not now… all that mattered at that moment was to find someone or something that would help you navigate and call for help.

With a soft tread, almost quietly like a cat, you pushed the door forward and it gave way, making a slight creak, forcing only to pray that it would not attract unnecessary attention, your head poked out looking around. Cold stone walls like in a medieval castle pressed down on consciousness, the wind blew down the gloomy corridor so that even clothes did not save too much and you wanted to throw some kind of jacket on top, but you took a step forward rejoicing that there are familiar lamps here, even if they shine a little badly, but it was better than if there were candles here.

However, the candelabra here were also really empty. When you were completely out in the hallway, you couldn't figure out which way to go to the right or to the left. It was too dark on the left and you wanted to go there the least, so you wandered in the direction where the wind was blowing, listening carefully to everything, trying not to fall off any stairs, although it was not very bright here, but still your eyes could distinguish the situation well and in the end you went down somewhere to a single door. Pulling the handle, it turned out that the door was closed on the other side and except for the old junk lying under the stairs, overgrown with cobwebs in places, there was nothing, which obviously made you turn around and go upstairs again, turning into that dark corridor where you initially did not want to go, but it seems that the choice was small.

Of course, you could go back to the bedroom and wait for a miracle or trouble, the latter seemed like a more obvious scenario, but still you can't leave everything on its own, even if you find yourself in the most non-standard of all situations. Eventually, after passing through the already familiar room again, you breathed a sigh of relief when you realized that the corridor was not at all as long as it initially seemed, and the door at the end was fortunately unlocked and led you to some long well-lit balcony. Your heart was beating wildly from fear of the unknown, but you still walked forward with your hand on your chest, walking to the other end, passing by some more locked rooms, stopping only at the moment when you clearly noticed a bright scarlet stripe on the floor as if something was being dragged… … like a corpse, and the red streak seems to be blood. Your feet were rooted to the ground as you looked around in a panic, looking for potential danger. Despite the disgusting silence, no one was nearby or someone simply did not want to be noticed earlier than expected, so at your own risk you decided to follow the bloody trail that ended abruptly. There were stains on the floor as if someone had tried to wash them earlier, perhaps they didn’t have time to do it or… Well, Leon always said that you have a rich imagination, which no one from your family ever argued with, so you decided not to give it free rein just yet because that otherwise it will drive you crazy.

It was all just disgusting. You realized for sure that you were in some kind of castle or giant mansion that clearly needed cleaning in places, and the worst thing was that all the rooms here practically remained locked. After an hour of wandering through the dark corners, you were damn cold and lost in addition, despite the fact that you found nothing and could not go anywhere except a couple of chambers, although mice ran through there a couple of times and spiders wove a web in the corners, which horrified you, forcing you to quickly slam the door and scream several times. No one really showed up. On the one hand, it was calming, but on the other it was aggravating.

You need at least some kind of map to figure out which part of the building you're in at all, but all you've found is useless trash and increased anxiety. Breathing exercises generally helped, which was why you were on the verge of hysteria. There must be at least a landline phone here! Panic was rolling in and my eyes started to water, I just wanted to call Leon and beg him to take you away from here because every rustle or shadow made you jump on the spot. And if someone really chases you? Where to run to? You don't have a mountain of muscles like Chris Redfield and you're not even Leon's equal. Your brain was clearly no longer trying to think of any plan, and it was at this moment that somewhere in the distance you heard a clock tinkling. It was dark outside, you couldn't see a thing, which made you think it might be midnight.

Startled, you looked around again and still decided to follow the sounds, hoping that they would not lead to your death. Another dark corridor gave way to a lighter one, which led you to a wide oak carved door, which made you even momentarily happy as you entered the wide hall with snow-white marble columns and an almost mirrored floor where a mosaic in the shape of a sun was laid out in the middle of the hall. Everything was luxurious and at the same time forgotten, but the clock that brought you here with a loud blow really showed midnight and it was a real antique! You were ready to swear to God that such a miracle could only be bought by a wealthy well-connected collector. Nearby there were several tables similar to those in your room, and although they were very dusty, in the vases that stood on them smelled sweetly of fresh flowers.

It wasn’t so gloomy here anymore, which helped relax a little. With sincere curiosity, you looked at everything that lay on the tables, and would like to turn the porcelain figurines of animals in your hands, something like this always caught you, causing memories to come flooding back against your will, how during your travels Leon could not tear you away from the souvenir shop where you emptied his card with great generosity, but this was not the case. And although you kept your eyes glued to everything you saw, your feet carefully walked down the steps until you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard loud clapping of hands.

You looked up at the source of the sound but didn't see anyone, however…

"So you've already woken up, my dear?"

[intoxicated-chan]

𝟎𝟎𝟏 *ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @/cafekitsune for the divider!!

Series’ Masterlist // Wattpad Vers.

Word Count ➳❥ 2k

(A/n) ➳❥ PLEASE READ! I’ve decided to add Olivia Octavius because I love her character. I am asking you all for your thoughts and opinions. Anyways, enjoy reading!

Content Warnings ➳❥ Swearing, manipulation, emotional blackmail, thoughts of violence…

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ 002 ⊰

Clickety clack! Clickety clack! Clickety clack! Clickety clack!

The sounds of your keyboard were the only thing heard in your freezing room, not like you could tell with your blasting headphones.

You shivered for the hundredth time. Your legs become sore from remaining crossed, your neck ached at your hunched over posture. In turn, you sat up. You let out a strained moan as you stretched your limbs. Your laptop was set to the side as you stood to stretch even more. The headphones were moved to be around your neck, rubbing your ears as some kind of relief.

As much as you’re determined to get your work turned in on time, your mind was distracted. The nervous pit in your stomach grew by the hour, part of it was relieved and the other, saddened. You have a scheduled meeting with your counselor in a half hour.

It’s just a half hour, no need to get all worked up. But you grew impatient, you felt like time was moving purposely slow just to screw with your emotions.

Like before, you were distracted. You couldn’t get your piece turned in on time if your own head hates you.

You changed into appropriate clothing or the weather. It was chilly out but not too cold. Just some simple sweats, sneakers and a hoodie. You brought your necessary items with you in a small bag and headed out, making sure you locked your door. Then, out You went to the campus.

You put your headphones back where they belong, and played your music. You took your usual path to the counselors office, walking random floors until you arrived on time. You arrived at their office and knocked on the door.

“You can come in, (Y/n).” You open and quietly shut the door, seeing your counselor sitting at their desk. They typed a few more words before turning their attention to you, “I noticed on your application that you’re open to internships. Are you still interested in them?”

You slip your headphones off and take a seat, “Still not sure if I am.” You admit, “I don’t think I can do work without getting paid.”

“Well, you’re just in luck.” The counselor types a few more things into their computer and turns the monitor to your direction, “Alchemax is a multinational chemical corporation. The CEO is willing to hire an intern.”

You lift an eyebrow, “A Chemical corporation? But I’m a writer.”

“I know you are but the CEO has high connections all over the place. Every student who has worked with the CEO or even worked a simple job in Alchemax now is making lots of money doing what they love. Their majors were completely different.”

You look back at the monitor, then to your counselor, “...I’m not sure if I want to do an internship with Alchemax.”

Your counselor sighs, “You do understand that Mr. O’Hara is one of the major donors. He’s the only reason that the community college is still up and running. It would be a tragedy if he stops donating money.”

Money. Of fucking course. It’s always about the money.

Your head hangs low, “This may be the chance to push your writing career forward. In the future, when you look back, you’ll be filled with guilt knowing that you had a chance. So, what will it be?”

“...I’ll do the internship.”

“That’s the spirit! Write up an email, have me as your referral, and then send it to Mr. O’Hara. I’ll write down his email.” They began writing down on a post it note, “You’re making the right choice and it’s like I told you in the beginning of your first year, I know you will become a great writer.”

You paced around your room. This feeling wasn’t nervousness, it was pure panic. Why did you let your counselor convince you that Alchemax was good enough? No, it wasn’t! You knew nothing about chemicals!

And the research wasn’t enough. There was no way a learning writer could ever work with a company with the complete opposite!

You paced around your room. This feeling wasn’t nervousness, it was pure panic. Why did you let your counselor convince you that Alchemax was good enough? No, it wasn’t! You knew nothing about chemicals!

Your email was finished, ready to be sent off. But you couldn’t. How could you not? This was your dream, to become a writer. Yet you didn’t want to become one where all eyes were on you, you wanted to be a simple writer, nothing all.

“It would be a tragedy if he stops donating money.”

You hated it. The feeling where everything was put on your shoulders and it counted on you. You couldn’t afford it if Mr. O’Hara does stop donating. You fucking hated it. You clicked send and began beating yourself up on how weak you are.

Alchemax Building // 12:50 PM

It’s almost been an hour. Where is this O’Hara guy?!

Your leg bounces up and down, as you continue to look back at your phone only for time to slowly move by. You sat here for over an hour after the receptionist told you it would only be a few minutes. A FEW MINUTES.

Why did you say yes to this again?

When you thought about leaving, the evaluator pinged and the doors opened. It revealed a disheveled and annoyed man who kept his eyes focused on the doors.

You take a deep breath as you stand, “Um, excuse me?” But he walks right by you, “Excuse me!” You say, louder this time.

The man responds with a heavy sigh, “Yes?”

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n), I’m a student at the (only) community college and I sent an email about an open internship.”

“Lyla.” He said and a woman appeared next to his head, “Were there any emails about the internships?”

“Well yeah, I read them all to you.”

“A heads up could’ve been nice.”

“Yeah yeah, I gotta check in on the R&D before they blow out another window.” She disappears.

“Right. This way.” He leads you to his office, opening the door and letting himself in first. You enter behind him, the door closing.

“As you know, I’m Miguel O’Hara, CEO of Alchemax.”

“I’m aware.”

Mr. O’Hara sits down with a heavy huff, “And then you must be aware that there is no need for an intern.”

You freeze in place, “I’m sorry?”

“If I remember correctly, you’re a writer applying to Alchemax.”

“I understand that but-”

“What purpose does a writer have in Alchemax? What purpose can you provide to the company?” He lifts an eyebrow, clearly trying to piss you off and sadly, it was working.

It was amusing to him. You could see the cocky smirk on his face as he waited for a response.

“The company was given to you. You then became the leader in rebuilding structures and in general, Earth. after numerous incidents (which is strange). But there have been gray areas in your company’s past which people like to bring up. You are thriving for change, and but at the same time, you hate change. I want to help you towards your goal and you don’t like people helping because you know you could do it yourself. The reason why the public kinda… hates you.” You now mumble, your head hanging low in embarrassment.

Shit! I said too much!

“What was your name again?”

“...(Y/n) (L/n).”

“I give you two weeks.” He sighs, “If you don’t screw anything up in those two weeks then you have a job here.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. O’Hara-”

“But if you do, then you go back to your community college and don’t even bother to try to come back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.” Mr. O’Hara leans back and opens his laptop, “Lyla is down at the Research and Development Department, make sure the insights are correct. She’ll explain it to you.”

“Um, of course.”

“Tenth floor.” He said before you walk out the doors of his office.

Did you forget that your heart was racing the entire time? Or that you wanted to punch him in his face?

R&D Department // 5:22 PM

“Here at the Research Department, we keep the company competitive. We stay up to date on any new material and we’re always trying to improve. But we also keep an eye on the market, any incidents.”

“Incidents?”

“I thought you told it to Miguel. Alchemax rebuilds anything after an incident dealing with whether it be a building or someone doing something stupid, Alchemax is always to the rescue!”

“I need you to pass these to Dr. Octavius and put a rush on them. She’s been asking for them non-stop.” The man shoves the stack of papers into your hands and returns to his desk.

You held back the urge to sigh and curse at the man. But you have no standing here. You were a simple unpaid intern for two weeks. If you screwed up your chance, then you can kiss your dreams goodbye.

Did I tell you how much I hate it here?

“Of course I can.”

If I know where her office is.

After minutes of looking at name plates, you finally find her office. You transfer the papers to one arm and knock on the door.

“Those better be the reports I’ve asked for.” You hear.

“Yes, they are.” You respond.

“Then come on in!”

You carefully enter her office and see that it was more of a lab than office. A strong smell immediately hits your nose and you try to keep yourself composed to make it to where the lady seemed to be looking through a microscope.

“Don’t be shy.” She said, still not looking away, “Come on over.”

You reach her desk, setting the files down, “Is that all?”

Finally, she looks up, eyeing you up and down, “A new employee? Wow, it’s a surprise that Miguel finally got his head out of his butt.”

“I’m sorry-? No, no, I’m just an intern… For two weeks.” You correct her.

“Ah! The classic two week deal.”

“He’s done this before?”

Dr. Octavius nods with a smile, “He’s done it to most of the new employees here. Me especially. He never did like my drive and focus on science.” She uses her leg to pull up a rolling chair next to her.

You sit, mainly because you didn’t want to go back onto that floor, “I’m listening.”

“The press was all over one incident when I blew up a room after I came up with another idea. Who would’ve thought a collider would explode and so he put the two weeks rule, if any of us does something stupid, we’re done for. No excuses.”

“And there is no excuse for this.”

You jump out of your seat and turn around, Mr. O’Hara stood at the door, “You have around three more hours before you have a break. Care to explain?”

You open your mouth to speak but Olivia stands and places a hand on your shoulder, “I asked her for her opinion on some new tests and if she could hand these results to you.” Handing you a thin file.

You walk over to him and hand them to you, “Leave.” He tells you, “And go home.”

You hurry out the door and not look back.

“What are you trying to do Olivia?” He asks.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She pulls off her glasses and starts to clean them.

“This isn’t the first intern that you asked for an opinion. You do understand that they are interns, interns. They have no say, they have no experience in whatever they are doing.”

Olivia puts them on and lets out a playful sigh, “And you do know that I have to warn the interns that a simple mistake ruins your mood. Everything ruins your mood.”

“They can drag the company to the ground.”

“Is that what you’re angry about?”

“She’s my intern.”

“Then shouldn’t you be teaching her?”

Mr. O’Hara shakes his head and walks out, slamming the door on the way.

“Now that is a man with issues.”

Taglist // @neteyamsbulletwound ,

[sapphos-ode]

Little Cat

Part 16

Larissa Weems part 15 | part 17 | ao3

(4.2k)

~

“Take a seat Miss. Sinclair,”

Enid does as she’s told. Gingerly perching herself on the edge of the leather chair, she could feel the coolness of the material through her tights. Maybe if she doesn’t settle down entirely then meeting will be brief and she can leave. Alas it’s just her wishful thinking.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you in,” Larissa’s eyes jump from her laptop to Enid’s before going back to the screen. She has the blog up on her browser.

The lycan goes to answer but her breath catches in her throat. She has to swallow before trying to speak again, “Am I- am I in trouble?” Her brows are furled and her bottom lip wobbles.

Larissa regards her for a moment, “No.”

Enid relaxes just the slightest, but she’s still on high alert. Her gaze flies around the room as she takes in the decor — hoping to ground herself. The high ceilings and the patterned wallpaper only make her head start spin.

“But something has come to my attention which I must address,” the principal pauses. “As I’m sure you’re aware, everyone knows about your blog, and whilst I do love the community it creates within the school. Taking photos and videos of staff without their consent is highly inappropriate, not to mention publishing them to a public account.

“I’m sure it was all in good faith, however I’m going to ask that you remove them once you return to your dorm.” Larissa left no room for argument. Her word was final.

“I’m sorry Principal Weems,” Enid murmurs with glossy eyes. Her heart pounding.

“Apology accepted,” Larissa bows her head. “And going forth, please take into consideration others’ privacy, some people prefer to keep their personal lives off of social media,”

“I will, and I will delete them! But…” Enid searches the principal’s intense gaze, “just to make sure, you are talking about the video of Miss. Karnstein feeding you on your date at the Harvest festival?”

Larissa’s face falls slack as it takes on a red hue that matches the lipstick she wears.

“And then the one with a picture of you and Miss. Karnstein holding hands, and of Miss. Hansen and Ms. Thornhill dancing in the greenhouse, with the poll?”

With a tired sigh Larissa nods slowly, her eyebrows pinched together. She was hoping the elephant in the room wouldn’t be addressed so directly.

“Yes, those are the posts in question, and any others that you may have posted in the past that include any other staff member,” Larissa clarified, ensuring to prevent any miscommunication, “or fellow pupils,”

“I’ll do that right away, I’m so sorry! It’s just you guys are supes cute! I didn’t think it through!”

“It’s quite alright, just remember to give it some thought in the future, thank you, Enid. You can go now,” Larissa says in defeat.

Enid’s all too eager in jumping out of her seat and rushing to the door. She’s halfway out of it when she stops and turns back to face the older woman.

“Oh! By the way Principal Weems, you and Miss. Karnstein are still winning the poll!” She flashes a smile before slipping away.

She didn’t have detention, and that was the best outcome really. It was a shame she had to delete the posts though, they were beginning to get a lot of traction, and would have increased her blog’s reach significantly if she was allowed to keep them up.

Larissa runs her hand over her face and slumps in her chair. The silence in her office felt heavy and oppressive.

~

She’s busy wrapping up the last few emails for the day when her phone buzzes. The screen lighting up. Larissa’s eyes flick over to it — giving it nothing more than a cursory glance. She does a double take when she sees your name at the top of the notification. The email is forgotten in its entirety as she picks up the phone to read your message.

Atikah: Hey, just come over whenever you’re ready. If you haven’t already eaten I’ll throw us a quick dinner together if that’s okay with you x

Atikah: Also hope you don’t mind, I’ve already picked a movie for us :)

She can’t help but smile at her phone, her thumbs already tapping away.

Larissa: I’ll be over shortly. And dinner would be lovely if that’s not of too much inconvenience for you. Larissa x

She was hesitant adding in the little kiss, but added it nonetheless. Your response is instant.

Atikah: Can’t wait! I’ll see you soon Rissa! x

The principal sends back a thumbs up.

~

Larissa had expected you to choose some sort of trashy chick flick, or a sappy romcom. Not this. A psychological horror. She’s reading the synopsis as you busy yourself throwing together a simple pasta dish.

The blonde can hear you humming to yourself as you finish plating up the food. Her heart swells as she looks over her shoulder at you. You’re so lost in your own world and she feels honoured to be allowed to observe you being you. Still humming a tune unfamiliar to her, you pad over to the sofa, leaning down to kiss Larissa’s forehead (the blonde finds herself closing her eyes and leaning into your touch) before setting the bowls and some cutlery down on the coffee table then dragging it closer to the couch.

As you nestle onto the settee, Larissa can’t help her wandering eyes as they move from your face down to your neck. Pleasantly surprised to see her little token from earlier freed from the confines of your foundation.

“Have you seen ‘Ma’ before?” You say as you settle a throw over the both of you.

Larissa takes the bowl you offer her with a thanks, it smells heavenly, “I’ve not, no, have you?”

“Nope, it seems good from the reviews though,” You chirp, “Last chance to object,”

“I’m all good with ‘Ma’,”

Larissa didn’t mind the occasional thriller, but it wasn’t a genre she’d typically go out of her way to watch. You on the other hand absolutely loved them. They gave you a peace of mind, however contradictory that was. You still felt the actors’ feelings through the screen but they felt different as opposed to when you soaked them in from real life. You still had a disposition to less pleasant emotions and they were abundant in the world – you weren’t a mother yet you knew what it felt like to lose a child, you've felt the type of grief that tears you apart and drains any and all colour from the world. You’ve never had an unfaithful partner but from passing strangers you know the nausea and insecurity it creates within someone, the doubt in one's self worth.

The tragedies of the people you meet – or pass on the street – may as well be your own, the downside to being an empath. And sometimes it becomes hard to tell what feelings are your own, and what ones belong to someone else. In your teen years it caused you great stress, and certainly one or two identity crises. But through the screen, you can tell the difference between the characters’ fear and your own – as clear as night and day. In a way it helped teach you the nuances between them. Gave you the tools to put the burdens of others’ to the back burner and prioritise your own. It helped you recover the pieces of you from the mess of others.

You pressed play and sat back on the seat, scooching closer to Larissa – the both of you eating in an amiable silence. The movie drove on and before long two empty bowls were placed on the coffee table and Larissa’s head had found its way lying on your chest. The steady drum of your heart calming her. The movie was making her feel uneasy, perhaps it was the main cast that reminded her of the students at Nevermore, or perhaps it was the skewed mind of Sue Ann. Whatever it was, it made Larissa restless. And she was thankful you couldn’t see her face from her position.

Of course she should have known you’d catch on. You were confused at first when you felt a horrible gnawing in your stomach. But you glanced down at Larissa who had started to fiddle with your hand and then it clicked. You paused the film and let silence befall you. The blonde turned her head and peered up at you with a questioning look.

“You okay Rissa?” You coo, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Yes,” she says with confidence but you know it’s a complete lie.

“You’re not,” you brush a few baby hairs that have worked themselves free from her updo, “we can watch something else,”

Larissa wasn’t used to someone seeing straight through her. She took a moment to respond.

“Please,”

You smile and hand her the remote, silently telling her she could choose. Whilst she flicks through the different films you take to running your thumb over her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft. She lets out a yawn which she tries to stifle.

“Someone’s tired,” you sing, studying the curve of her brow and the path of her hairline. Drinking in every detail of her.

“I’m not- ” she cuts herself off with another yawn.

It’s quite late for a school night, and Larissa can feel sleep tempting her. But she doesn’t want her time with you to end — she’s pulled plenty of late nights, burning the midnight oil to crank out email after email. She could manage another one.

She settles on a romcom, ‘When Harry Met Sally’, it starts to play and she shuffles closer to you. Wrapping her arms around your waist tighter. The pair of you get halfway through the movie when Larissa can’t stop yawning, her eyes keep falling shut only for her to jerk her head up. You’ve stopped watching the film, instead watching her in amusement. It’s when she no longer looks at the tv, and is staring off at something in desperate attempts to just keep her damn eyes open that you pause the movie.

“I should retire for the night,” she murmurs.

You hum softly in agreement as you coax the both of you into a sitting position, Larissa still holding your midriff. Wordlessly you help her stand and when she goes to head for your front door you tut and guide her to your bedroom. She obliges with no protest. A blush on her cheeks and a small happy smile on her lips.

It’s an easy task, getting her ready for bed, you hand her a spare toothbrush and change into your pyjamas whilst she’s busy in your ensuite. You lay out clothes for her to change into and when she leaves the bathroom you slip in to get yourself ready.

When you emerge you find Larissa sat on your bed wearing your clothes (the sight warms your heart) with her eyes half closed. You take pity on her, and with a makeup wipe in hand you slowly strip her face. One hand holds her cheek and she nuzzles in as you wipe away the last remnants of her cosmetics.

“Thank you darling,”

A fuzzy feeling vibrates in your chest. You discard the wipe somewhere, an issue for tomorrow, then you clamber onto the bed and settle behind her.

“Just need to let down your hair and then we can sleep,” you coo into her ear, your breath tickling her. It draws out a pleased hum from her.

With deft hands you pull all the pins from her hair, each one you extricate rewards you with more silver curls that dance around your fingers — finally free of their confines — silken as always, and with the most gorgeous shine. Once all the clips were removed you run your hands through her tresses, massaging her scalp and expelling any tension. Your hands fall from her hair to her shoulders. Without thinking it through you begin to knead the muscles, working out the knots.

The moan Larissa lets out has you blushing but you don’t stop. Determined to massage every last ounce of stress she holds. Her back leans into your front, pushing you onto the bed. You laugh at her before moving the both of you under the covers.

The blonde’s arms are around you in an instant. Holding you flush to her body, she buries her face into your hair, taking a deep inhale. You smell like roses and peony blooms, the faded scent of your perfume gives Larissa a headrush, there’s a smokey undertone to it that adds a complexity to the smell. Larissa makes a mental note to ask what perfume you use.

She feels you pull back and lets you. Gazing down at you with a sleep ridden smile.

“You’re very cute when you’re tired,” you wriggle your arms around her neck.

You pull her down and closer to you. Capturing her lips with your own, savouring the feeling. It’s one you can never have enough of. You let your eyes close as her tongue slips into your mouth. Causing you to moan. The blonde pushes you onto your back, never breaking away from your mouth. She leans over you, whining at the feeling of your lips. Her eyes rake over your body and she so badly wants to take you right there. The desire behind your lidded eyes only egging her on… but she’s so tired.

Larissa lowers herself and lays on top of you. Her face buried in the crook of your neck, her warm breath brushes against your heated skin. The blonde allows herself a short moment to just lie there but when she goes to move off of you, your arms tighten around her waist, keeping her in place.

“Don’t move,” sleep begins to ebb into your voice.

“I can’t, I’m far too heavy, I’ll crush you- ”

“Shhh, you won’t…” you force down a yawn, “and besides, maybe I want to be crushed by you,”

Larissa rolls her eyes but relaxes against you. The instant she closes them she’s gone, out like a light, but not before she faintly registers you whispering sweet dreams to her.

You reach over to your nightstand for your phone and set an alarm for the morning. As you place it back down the light from it casts over Larissa’s, its screen facing down. You notice a Polaroid tucked into the case, craning your neck up to get a better look, you see it’s the one you had taken when you had played Mario Kart — you had been wondering where it had gone. Your entire body softens at realisation Larissa had kept it somewhere she could always see it. When you settled under the covers you pepper kisses to Larissa’s head.

~

Larissa watched with apprehension as Marilyn stalked over to her desk. There was an unnerving spring in her step and her smile was poorly masked. Usually it was Larissa who made people alert — she wasn’t accustomed to being on the other end. Instead of taking a seat across from Larissa’s desk, the botanist walked round to the same side and perched on the edge.

“So?”

“So… what?” Larissa keeps her tone light as she tries to brush off the expectant look.

“So…” Marilyn draws out the vowel, “are you calling everyone ‘darling’ these days or..?” She leaves the question open, suspended in the air between them.

It takes Larissa a second to catch on. She didn’t call everyone ‘darling’, occasionally she’d use the endearment for students who came to her seeking advice and needing comfort.

Marilyn thrived off of the expression Larissa made when the penny dropped. Delighted with how the principal’s eyes widened a fraction and her lips fell into a soft ‘o’.

“I suppose your darling hasn’t told you anything?”

Marilyn blushes at this, her mind running to images of Alice, “She hasn’t, no,” the redhead leans back on her palms, looking up at her reflection from the mirrors mounted to the ceiling. What an odd choice she thinks.

“Atikah and I… we- I took your advice,” Larissa fiddled with a pen on her desk, “I’m not sure what we are but, we’re something- ”

Marilyn interjects with a squeal of delight. Before Larissa can react the redhead has her arms thrown around her. Pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh! I’m so happy for you!”

Larissa laughs gently as she returns the embrace. Marilyn smells like earth and tea, there’s a freshness to the scent, the kind that comes only after heavy rain. Petrichor, if Larissa remembers correctly.

“You should’ve seen how she looked at you yesterday at lunch! She’s a real sweet one,” Marilyn pulls back and reclaims her previous spot.

“She is,” Larissa dotes softly. “You and Miss. Hansen make quite the pair too, you’re two little lovebirds,”

“Lys is just a big softie, a little hard headed but that’s half the reason I like her as much as I do.” Marilyn can’t contain her grin, “I’m glad you cleared things up with her, Larissa, you deserve someone like her,”

The two converse for a short while, yourself and Miss. Hansen being the topics of discussion before Marilyn excuses herself, mentioning she had some plants she wanted to gift to her lycan.

~

Evening came quickly and Larissa had finished everything for the day. After closing her laptop she surveys her office — just soaking in the space and enjoying it. Her eyes land on one of the many bookcases, she skims the titles on the spines until one catches her eye, she had been gifted it one year in the staff’s secret Santa. It was a collection of classic piano compositions. Admittedly she hardly used it if at all but the gesture behind the gift was appreciated. Come to think of it, she hasn’t felt ivory keys beneath her fingers in a while.

Larissa didn’t own a piano to keep in her private quarters, as much as she would have liked to — there just wasn’t space and it didn’t go with her decor. A keyboard would be the solution but she just hated the plastic keys, they felt cheap. She knew the school owned pianos, there was one in each music classroom, and in the soundproof practice rooms — for students and teachers alike to play without fear of disturbing those around them.

Before she knew it Larissa found herself in a spare music classroom, sitting at an upright piano ghosting her fingers along the keys, the material felt sturdy and cool against her skin. With a deep contented sigh Larissa pressed on the ivories and the sound of delicate notes rang out through the room as she began to play ‘Nuvole Bianche’ by Ludovico Einaudi. The introduction was slow, the notes bleeding into the next before a momentary pause until it found its tempo. As she played Larissa let her body sway with the music, her eyes closed as she fed her soul into the keys. Lost to the world.

~

“Thank you,” you take your violin back from Mr. Hewett, a ginger man. Tall and sinewy, with his cropped hair slicked back. He looked like his limbs were too long for his body.

“Not a problem, I’m always happy to help,” He gave you a smile.

“It seems so silly now I know how to sort it myself,” you chuckled sheepishly as you placed the instrument into its case. “I was about to grab a nail file and whittle the peg down,”

“Oh goodness no! That’s blasphemy!” Mr. Hewett holds a hand to his chest, letting out a disbelieved gasp. “Thank the heavens you came to me first,”

A tuning peg had become tight, causing you grief when you had played the strings. You hadn’t the faintest clue how to fix it or the cause — and the idea of having to fork out for a potentially expensive peg replacement wasn’t appealing. Nipping down to the music wing was a smart decision.

“Thank them indeed,” you agree.

You shut the clasps on the case and turn to the man. Clad in a slightly oversized brown suit as always. You thank him again and take your leave.

The corridor was silent until you reached the end when you heard something faintly. As you crept closer to a classroom door that was left just a touch ajar you could make out the sounds of a piano more clearly. The music seemed to breathe, slowing marginally before bursting into more life only to repeat again. Whoever was playing was exceptionally skilled and curiosity got the better of you. Quietly you push the door open and peek your head in — only just silencing your gasp.

There she sat, in the dimly lit room, slender fingers dancing over the keys. The evening sun leeched in through the window, catching on the specks of dust, and shone on her like a spotlight. Diverting all attention on her. As if anyone could look elsewhere — Larissa’s entire existence was all consuming and wholly captivating. How anyone could want to look away was beyond you.

You slip into the room and close the door behind you silently. Setting your violin down on a nearby desk without a sound. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you disturbed this moment. If you tore Larissa from this state of absolute peace and serenity she had found. The blonde played the last notes — holding the keys down and putting her foot on the sustain pedal. The sound fades softly into nothingness. The air in the room is fragile like glass.

You allow a few seconds before speaking in the gentlest of tones, “you play beautifully, almost as beautiful as yourself,”

Larissa’s eyes shoot open and her head snaps round to the source of the voice. Instantly relaxing when she sees it’s you. A pink hue creeps onto her cheeks as she bows her head and smiles.

“Thank you, but it’s just a pastime of mine,”

“You’re far too humble Rissa,” you muse. Walking the last few steps to close the distance between you.

With a quick glance at the door to make sure no one was watching, you press a sweet kiss to her lips, your hands caressing her face. You can feel her smile against you.

“How long have you played for?”

When seated at the piano bench, Larissa reaches just below your lower lip. You move to stand behind her and capitalise on that fact, resting your chin on her head, wrapping your arms around her neck, letting your hands dangle in front of her chest.

“Just before I moved here to attend Nevermore,” her voice was quiet, just like the final notes she had played.

Her reply creates more questions in your mind. You want to know her life story. And so much more. But you don’t voice any of those.

You remove your chin from its perch, and lean down next to her ear, “Can we play a duet?” Your hushed voice graces her hearing.

“If I know the composition then yes,” Larissa can’t help her Cheshire Cat grin.

You hum in thought as you think of songs, “do you know ‘Time Forgotten’ by Brian Crain?”

“I do, yes,” Larissa tilts her head to the side to steal a kiss from you.

You all too happily lean into it before abruptly pulling away. Practically skipping across the room to where your violin sat in its case. Larissa watches intently as you settle the instrument on your shoulder, resting your chin on the chin rest as you walk back to her. You run the bow over the strings, your brows furrowing in concentration as you listen to the notes, an expression Larissa finds painfully adorable.

Once you’re back at her side you fiddle with the tuning pegs, play the strings again, and then make a few more adjustments until you’re satisfied with the sound.

“Ready?” The blonde asks, her fingers already poised over the keys.

“At your beck and call,” you hum, nestling the violin back between your shoulder and chin. Bow hovering across the strings.

The piano starts off the music and the violin makes its entrance shortly after. Your notes play longer, a beautiful contrast to the shorter ones from the piano. As the song progresses Larissa shuts her eyes and lets her body move in time with the song. You on the other hand watch her, you rock gently on your feet, the pair of you letting the ebb and flow of the music take over — seep into your bones and claim your beings. The song is gentle but not lacking in evoking a melancholy feeling. It’s soothing and effective in banishing any thoughts from your mind other than Larissa Weems and the violin.

The song peters out on a shy diminuendo, feathering off into the ether. You relax and remove your violin, holding it lower as you observe Larissa. Her face is relaxed, void of the usual tenseness. She sighs softly as she opens her eyes to find yours already trained on her. They’re lidded and are rife with mellowness. She can’t put into words how ecstatic she is. The music subdued her but it hasn’t dampened how alive she feels — she had dreamed of playing a duet with you. Weeks ago it was all just a fanciful dream she dared not to entertain fully. And here she sat, that daydream very much a reality.

It seems dreams really do come true.

~

Taglist - @weemssapphic @h-doodles @blessmysouljessisonaroll @eveymay @lvinhs @enchantressb @a-queen-and-her-throne @vmpnano @opheliauniverse @emsgwenstan @renravens @lex13cm @im-a-carniverous-plant

[kingkatsuki]

Thinking about Bakugou meeting you on desk duty again.

Though Bakugou’s mellowed out exponentially in his older age, he isn’t always perfect. The temper that once plagued him throughout his childhood was now just a simmering fire in his head as he’d learned to control it over the years. The amount of destruction on the Dynamight expenses list had lessened through time, and his corporate team are now glad they don’t have to try and explain the number of totaled buildings caused by one Pro-Hero alone to the media each year— It still doesn’t mean that Bakugou has changed completely.

There are certain situations, and certain people that simply irk him. From the guy in that Asahi commercial that looks far too fucking smarmy, to the interviews his PR team pencil him in for knowing full well he doesn’t want to attend. Some may call them minor inconveniences, but to him they’re a pain.

And desk duty? Desk duty was the biggest pain of all.

It wasn’t his fault that a villain had decided to run into a newly built artisan coffee shop in the city, and it wasn’t his fault that it happened to be owned by the President of the Hero Commissions son— who was now out for Dynamight’s blood.

And it definitely wasn’t his fault that the scheduled live apology had gone pear shaped.

Bakugou would blame the arrogant asshole for that any day of the week— if the guy had just let him apologise without hurling a string of abuse at him everything would be back to normal and he wouldn’t be waiting for his computer to boot up, but the guy just had to run his fucking mouth. And of course, Bakugou wasn’t going to stand for it.

So now he found himself sipping a lukewarm coffee from the seventh floor machine, and staring at a towering pile of paperwork on his assigned desk. But on the bright side, the night shift meant the office was virtually empty and at least he didn’t have to fucking apologise.

Letting his desk chair sway side to side he aimlessly scrolled through the emails that poured in to his agency. Anything from fan mail to thanks from civilians. Grinning when he clicked on one that was obviously from a younger fan as they included a photo of themselves in full Dynamight merchandise in the email, talking about their favourite Pro-Hero and how much they wanted to be like him some day. Bakugou immediately made a mental note to get the kid a signed shirt as he saved the email into his personal inbox.

This was probably the only good thing about desk duty, other than the crippling boredom, having to file paperwork and assign sidekicks to mundane tasks like rescuing kittens from trees.

A loud sound broke his attention away from replying to an email about graffiti outside their local supermarket as he noticed a pretty woman with a headset over her head and a microphone to her cheek.

You’d been trying to get this annoying client to stop shouting at you for at least fifteen minutes, the attitude had started to become progressively worse as he complained about receiving compensation for propert destruction at the hands of Pro-Hero Dynamight and his sidekicks.

Your constant apologies landed on deaf ears as you tried to reason with the man, asking him to stop shouting at you as you felt tears of frustration begin to well in your eyes. Trying to remember to breathe as you wondered whether you’d get in trouble for simply hanging up—

Gasping in surprise when someone plucked the headset from the top of your head as you turned to look up at the Pro-Hero Dynamight standing behind you. A look of sheer annoyance on his face as he held one side of the headset to his ear to hear the man that had been shouting at you for the past ten minutes continuing to raise his voice on the line, clearly unaware that you were no longer listening to him.

“Listen, you prick. I don’t know why you think it’s acceptable to shout at my staff, but you better fix your fucking tone if you call back again.”

You heard a sound of recognition on the phone before the line went silent. You wondered whether the man had hung up out of embarrassment or sheer fear. Bakugou muttered “idiot” beneath his breath held the headpiece back to you, taking it wordlessly as he made his way back to his desk. Slumping back down into the desk chair as he began to sway in it side to side once more as he tried to avoid looking at the slow moving clock on the screen.

“You can take five minutes, you know.” Bakugou called across the room. The night shift at the agency was often quiet, when most people had gone home for the day— just how he liked it.

“I’m not sure I can with my boss watching me.” You smiled back softly, blinking back the tears that had clung to your thick lashes.

“I won’t tell if you don’t, sweetheart.” He scoffed.

Maybe desk duty wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[raining-violet]

— 011: 𝘎𝘙𝘈𝘗𝘌𝘍𝘙𝘜𝘐𝘛 【 raining-violet 】

【 Download now! 】

𝘎𝘙𝘈𝘗𝘌𝘍𝘙𝘜𝘐𝘛 is a free, 5 page, character google doc template. It’s heavily inspired by the Y2K aesthetic. There’s plenty of space to write whatever info about your character you need. This template is entirely customizable. Each element is movable and you can change the colors of the entire doc if you wish, even the fruit! All I ask is that you keep the credit and don’t claim it as your own. I really hope you guys like this as much as I do <3

Notes on use

This doc utilizes drawings and is not mobile friendly. Also, to edit, click the three dots and then file. Then click make a copy. Please don’t request editing permission! I’ve been getting spammed with emails asking for editing permission and it’s really not that hard, I promise. And I’ll restate it here again, please do not remove the credit, redistribute without credit, or claim this doc as your own in any way shape or form.

Other notes

the character used for photos is Mamimi Tanaka from Idolmaster and lyric quotes are from ‘Good 4 U’ by Olivia Rodrigo.

I’m really happy with how this turned out, and honestly I’ve had this doc finished for a few months now but never posted it. Originally, I was planning on making this my first paid doc but then decided to not start charging for docs just yet. Then I forgot to post it. I plan on charging for my docs in the future, but for now my docs will stay free. If you end up using this, it’d mean a lot if you like the post or reblog it <3 I’ll see you guys in another two weeks or so with another doc!

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You unfortunately let Phoenix talk you into going to the Hard Deck on a night when it was swarming with sailors. And there's only so much that can be done to keep both Bradley and Jake safe during their special mission. 

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

You knew from Bradley's emails that he was flying his mission today, you just weren't sure what time. You only seemed to be able to think about him and Jake, wondering what they were doing and if they were staying safe. 

Your wedding was less than two weeks away now, and you were leaving work early to drop off your permits with the county office. That was the last thing you had to do. Your plan was to finish writing your vows and making the photo collage this weekend. Then you'd truly be all set for the wedding, and one of Bradley's gifts would be complete. 

Now he just needed to make it back in time so you could pull off the most spectacular surprise of all time, with a little help from Mav.

When you got home, you played with Tramp and argued with Phoenix over text about whether or not you should go to the Hard Deck tonight. It just wasn't the same without Bradley there, but it was even worse now. You knew you were a little antsy, but you wouldn't even be able to tell anyone that it was because your wedding was coming up!

But she got you to agree to go if she picked you up on her way there. So now you were scrambling to get changed into some cutoff shorts, a cute top and your boat shoes before she arrived. You were still eating the sandwich you made and feeding Tramp his dinner when she let herself in the front door.

"You look cute," she said, giving you a look. "That looks like something you'd wear out with Bradley."

"I know," you said between bites of food. "I need to do laundry tomorrow."

Phoenix just sighed. "You sure you don't want to throw on a sweatshirt or one of his massive tees? There's a carrier docking like right now. The bar is going to be swarming with guys."

You just rolled your eyes at her. "This is hardly inappropriate, and it's like a million degrees outside." But now you understood why she was wearing jeans and a baggy shirt. The guys could be a bit relentless when there was a ship in port. "Hey, maybe I can get a free drink," you said with a shrug. 

But five minutes into your night, you realized you had made a mistake. 

"Why did you bring me here?" you growled at Phoenix as you waited in a massive crowd of people to get a beer. "I could be sitting in my backyard with a drink that I didn't have to physically fight someone for!"

But she just shrugged. "It's not as crowded by the pool table."

After a few more minutes, you groaned and told her, "I just want one fucking beer!"

The guy in front of you turned around and smiled at you, and then you heard him add another beer to his order with Penny. 

Your cheeks felt a little warm as he turned around and held a bottle out in your direction. "Here you go, gorgeous. One fucking beer."

You were flustered, not quite sure what to do. So you reached for it, and he pulled it back with a grin. "Just tell me your name first."

"I'm engaged," you responded with an eye roll.

"Wow, that's such a pretty name," he said with a laugh, and you had to keep yourself from laughing at how ridiculous this was becoming. 

"I can buy my own beer, but thanks anyway," you told him, trying to push past him to the bar while Nat shoved you from behind.

"You can have it. I don't even mind if you're engaged. I'm only off the carrier for the night," he told you with a smirk. Now that Nat was ordering her drink, you decided to take the free beer from this guy because he was being such an asshole. 

"Oh? You don't mind?" you asked with your best attempt at a charming smile. 

"Not at all. And my name's Will. You don't need to tell me yours, but I just wanted you to have something to scream later."

You just grimaced at him before putting the bottle to your lips and chugging the entire thing in front of him. He watched with interest as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand and leaned past him to slam the empty down on the bartop. 

"Well, thanks a lot, Will. The beer was delish. I'll just be going now," you told him, grabbing his hand and holding it up so you could give him an awkward high five. 

"I'll be at the pool table," you told Phoenix before turning on your heel and squeezing your way back through the crowd. But you realized Will was following you.

"Hey, wait up! Let's go outside!"

"Seriously?" you mumbled, not sure what else you needed to do to turn this man off to the idea of you. But that's when you spotted the guys playing pool. 

"Hey, come on," Fanboy called to you across the table to you. "I need a partner."

But you reached Coyote first and wrapped your arms around his waist right as he was saying hi to you. "Oh, hey," he said with a laugh, patting you on the back. "It's nice to see you, too."

"There's a guy," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder. "He bought me a beer and I accepted it when I really shouldn't have. Oh shit, he's still coming! I thought he'd leave when he saw me with you."

"What guy?" Payback asked, tossing his pool cue down on the table and turning to look. 

Will stopped short when he saw you with Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Bob. 

"I thought you were joking about being engaged," he said, holding his hands up. "Since you took the drink."

"She's not joking, man," Coyote said, keeping his arm around your shoulders. 

Will just shrugged and said, "Your girl's a tease," before he started to turn away.

But now Payback was starting to look like he wanted to punch the guy, and you felt terrible for letting this happen. 

"You want me to pay you for the beer? Fine," you said, digging in your pocket for some cash.

But Payback set down his glass and said in a very calm voice, "We'll consider the drink you bought her a peace offering. Now apologize for calling her a tease, and you can be on your way."

Will looked at him for a minute before turning to you and Coyote. "Sorry." And then he walked back into the crowd. 

Just then, Nat strolled up with four beer bottles in her hands. "You guys missed the funniest thing! She got a free drink from some guy who told her he wanted to fuck her even though she said she's engaged!"

You just cradled your head in your hands. "That's what he said to you?" Bob asked, going pink in the face. 

"Where the fuck did he go?" Payback snarled, cracking his knuckles. 

"Everyone calm down!" you said, pushing away the bottle Phoenix tried to give you and grabbing Payback's hand. "I'm never coming here when there's a carrier making a port of call ever again! And next time we go out, I'm wearing a trash bag."

But soon everyone went about their business again. And you were happy you didn't feel alone when Bradley and Jake were both gone. Fanboy handed you a pool cue, and you joined the game. 

-----------------------

Bradley and Jake woke up and did the exact same thing as each other all day long. They showered, ate breakfast, got some fresh air, went over their final flight briefings, ate lunch, and then dressed in their flight suits.

If you had told Bradley then that the day would change so dramatically for just one of them, he would have found it hard to believe. But that's that way things always seemed to go. 

"You ready?" he asked Jake who was still getting his helmet bag packed up. "What do you have in there anyway?"

"Mosty snacks," Jake said. "Maybe someday I'll have something a little bit more special inside. What's in yours?"

"Mostly snacks,' Bradley said with a laugh. "And a picture or two." He pulled out a printout of a selfie he had taken of you and him holding Tramp between the two of you in your backyard. Jake looked at it and shook his head with a grin. 

"You two thinking about having kids?" he asked, putting his helmet on. 

Bradley laughed. "If I had it my way, she would already be pregnant."

"Yeah," Jake replied, shaking his head. "I don't know why I even asked you that. Angel already told me you want kids right away."

Bradley put his helmet on as well, and they both started walking out to the airstrip. "I find it really disturbing that the two of you have 'girl talk' sessions."

Jake scoffed. "You don't seem to mind it when you put your foot in your mouth and I'm there to bail you out, Bradshaw."

Bradley really couldn't argue with that. He loaded into his F/A-18 and started on his safety checks, missing the days from last year when you were on the other end of his radio communications. But he checked in with some faceless voice in the tower, and he listened to Jake do the same. And soon they were airborne, launching off of catapults one and two with Bradley taking the lead position. 

Bradley checked in with the Comanche for a radar update, and then soon he and Jake were entering enemy airspace for a mission that should have been a quick in and out again. They would need to conserve all four of their missiles for the mission to be a success, so just knowing a dogfight scenario would come down to guns and flares had Bradley a little wary. 

"You all good?" he asked Jake, turning to see him over his right wing.

"All good."

And then it was time to attack, and Bradley fell back into the comfortable way that his mind seemed to take over and keep him calm without the rest of his emotions fighting for dominance. Was he thinking about you? Of course he was, but you were always at the back of his mind. Was he still focusing on what needed to be done with almost exact precision? Yes, because he wanted to stay alive. 

"Attack," he informed Jake at just the right moment, and then Jake split off to the right, behind a mountain range and out of sight. 

They were in constant radio communication as they each eliminated two perimeter targets, and then Bradley flew along a river while Jake flew parallel to the mountain range. This would put Bradley at the coastline first, but Jake should have been close enough for Bradley to see him. 

"Hey Hangman, how far?" 

"About twenty miles."

He had no idea how Jake had managed to fall so far behind, but he would make up twenty miles in less than two minutes. However, now Bradley couldn't see him, and he had to make a decision about lingering for his wingman or conserving his fuel. 

Bradley punched back on the throttle, easing his speed back. He kept checking his mirrors and turning around to look for the telltale glimmer of the dying sunlight on the canopy of Jake's aircraft. It wasn't easy to catch unless you were looking for it. 

But he waited, checking in with the carrier a few times, when finally, he saw what he hoped was Hangman.

"Out over the water," Jake told him. "Coming in hot."

"Copy," Bradley replied, throttling back up to his previous speed. He made sure both he and Jake were cleared for landing and then went down first, hooking the tow line, and waiting for the deck crew team to pull his aircraft safely to the side, making room for Jake to land. 

Bradley was just opening his canopy when he saw Jake buzz the tower, which was very unlike him. Then he heard Jake say, "Complete engine failure," through the radio in his helmet before it cut out. 

"What the fuck is going on?" Bradley asked the ground crew as he scrambled down the ladder. But everyone was frozen in place, awaiting instructions. The intercom started blaring over the deck, and Bradley ripped his helmet off just as Jake brought his jet around again.

It was too late to get the barricades ready if he was truly in full engine failure, and it was also impossible for Jake to get enough altitude to eject. 

"Fuck," Bradley whispered as Jake came down at a strange angle that made him cringe and cover his mouth. It sounded like he had lost both engines, and trying to get onto the deck was the only option. 

Bradley stood back with the deck crew as they raised an additional cable to try to catch the tail hook. But he knew the angle was too extreme, and Bradley watched in horror as Jake hit the deck a little too hard before skidding over both of the cable lines. Since he had no means to lift off and try for a second landing without his engines, everyone had to watch Jake's aircraft skid the length of the runway and then go careening into the Pacific Ocean. 

It felt like someone had sucker punched him, and Bradley sputtered for a few seconds before he started to make a run for the end of the carrier deck. There were crew members everywhere, and even more flooding out of the tower. The closer Bradley got to the end, he was finally able to see Jake's Super Hornet, half sunk in the water sideways. But it was too far away for Bradley to make out where exactly Jake was.

He turned around, trying to find someone who could make sense of what was happening, but it felt like everyone was moving in slow motion. Nobody was moving fast enough to get Jake out of the water before he drowned as the cockpit started taking on water. 

Bradley could hear himself screaming out questions that didn't quite make sense even to himself. But nobody was answering him. Before giving it too much thought, he started yanking at the laces of his boots and pulling them off one at a time. Then he was ripping off his gear and unzipping his flight suit, stripping down to just his compression shorts. 

The deck was about sixty feet above the water, which should only be marginally painful for Bradley, as long as he jumped straight. Otherwise he would just be creating more problems. But now Jake's aircraft was starting to sink, and he hadn't opened the canopy yet. 

So Bradley took a running jump into the freezing cold water to try to save his teammate, only partly because he knew you'd probably never forgive him if there was something he could have done but decided not to.

The water was ice cold, and all of Bradley's skin was burning from the impact as he was sloshed around by the waves as he tried to kick to resurface. He was gasping for air as soon as he broke the surface, and then he was off and swimming as fast as he could toward the F/A-18 that was mostly underwater. 

When he reached the cockpit, he could tell it was still sealed. But then he saw that Jake was fighting against the water pressure to get the canopy open. The further underwater the plane sank, the harder it would be to open it. Bradley took a deep breath and went under, pounding on the canopy until he had Jake's attention. He needed Jake to open all the latches, and then he could try to help him pull it open. 

Jake was scrambling with the last latch, and Bradley went back up for another breath of air. This time, when he went under, he planted his feet against the metal panel and pulled as Jake pushed. The cockpit immediately took on water as soon as they opened it just a few inches. He watched Jake get soaked and hit in the face with a wave of salt water, but then it became a little easier to pry the canopy open a few feet. 

As Jake started to squeeze through the opening, the Super Hornet started sinking in earnest. Bradley knew getting Jake to the surface in his gear would be the hardest part of this entire disaster, so he pushed himself up to the surface for one more good breath of air.

This time his lungs were burning as he dove down deeper, his hands connecting with some part of Jake's flight suit before he pushed off of the metal with both feet. He was kicking for everything he was worth, trying to keep a good hold on Jake's arm or leg. But Bradley's lungs were on fire. He could barely stand the pain. He was starting to lose his vision as he kicked harder and harder. He hoisted Jake over his head and pushed him to the surface, letting himself float up as his limbs gave out.

When Bradley felt the cold air hit his face, he opened his eyes, suddenly alert again. Jake's body was refusing to float from the weight of the soaking wet flight suit, and his eyes were closed. Bradley got his fingers on Jake's neck to find his pulse and made sure he still had a strong heartbeat, then he grabbed him under both armpits and kicked relentlessly to keep him above water. 

And thank god there was finally a diving crew jumping in now. Bradley kicked until he heard a woman telling him to stop, and that she had him while another diver had a hold on Jake. Bradley sank back into her grip, letting himself go boneless. And eventually they were all being raised back up to the deck where Bradley finally realized exactly how fucking freezing cold he was. 

Someone bundled him in blankets while he watched Jake's flight suit being cut off of him. "Oh, fuck," Bradley whispered, dropping to his knees on the airstrip and staring at the surreal scene in front of him. Jake's forehead was bleeding profusely and his lips were blue from the temperature of the water. But at least his eyes were open, and then he rolled onto his side and started coughing up water. 

Bradley sat quietly on the deck for a moment, but when a smile broke out on Jake's face, he couldn't help but smile too.

"Well, that fucking sucked," Jake sputtered as he rolled onto his back again. 

Bradley laughed. "You scared the shit out of me, man."

"You're insane," Jake said quietly. "Angel is going to be so mad."

-------------------------

You were exhausted and irritable by the time Phoenix dropped you back off at home. Your night had been terrible right off the bat. You shouldn't have accepted the beer from that guy just to try to get under his skin. You really hated guys like that, the ones who couldn't take the hint when a girl wasn't interested in them. 

You brushed your teeth and got changed for bed, leaving your glasses on your nightstand before lifting Tramp up into bed with you. Should you start a new pill pack? You had been looking at it sitting next to the bed for the past few days. If you didn't take it now, your cycle would be a mess if you changed your mind in a few days. But if you didn't take a pill and also didn't change your mind... well, you were ready now. 

You tossed your unopened birth control pills into your nightstand drawer, next to your new necklace charm and a stack of paper airplanes. Bradley had been telling you for months, ever since you thought you might have gotten pregnant in La Jolla, that he was ready when you were. That it was up to you. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves. Sometimes the pain you felt from missing Bradley was as much physical as mental, and right now, your body was aching. It almost felt like you'd been out in the sun too long after getting bashed by ocean waves. You felt stiff and achy and uncomfortable. You were trying not to think about the fact that you had no idea what was going on with Bradley and Jake's mission. But you supposed no news was good news, at least as far as a deployment special mission was concerned. 

So you turned off your lamp and snuggled up with Tramp, spinning your engagement ring on your finger and reminding yourself that Bradley would be back soon with Jake in tow. Hopefully just in time for your perfect, surprise wedding. 

----------------------

Too much excitement! Holy shit. And how's Bradley going to feel about Baby Girl discreetly going off birth control?

PART 17

@mak-32

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

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@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[ctrlsugar]

BACK BY REQUEST : MY PERSONAL SERVER TEMPLATE.

below is a guide for the channels, as well as tips and tricks for using this template and a few recommendations for bots. ( link & image heavy )

NOTE: this is an outdated template, and is not the server i currently use - if you would like to see an updated version of this ( my roleplay group or 1x1 roleplay servers, or others ), please let me know!!

GET THE SERVER | FREE ( tips appreciated !! )

BOT SUGGESTIONS.

tupperbox ( for proxying your muses for discord roleplay )

writerbot ( for writing sprints, goals & prompts )

reminder ( for reminders / birthday updates )

threadtracker ( for tracking threads on discord )

TIPS.

messletters ( for fancy text )

this entire tag by @dayslily ( for discord tips & tricks )

turn on community for the forum features ( linked to tutorial )

WELCOME CENTER.

ooc : updates / generally in large community servers you can subscribe to get updates sent to you personal server, this is a good place to send them. alternatively, you can utilize webhooks to send your tumblr notifications to your discord server in this channel. ( see tutorial here ).

ooc : emails / i use this channel to keep track of my logins for various tumblr blogs and other websites.

ooc : reminders / using a bot, i set this channel to have reminders for various things, such as personal reminders, roleplay to do list and even character & partner birthdays

ooc : todolist / you could use a bot, or just manually update this channel with your current todolist.

ooc : drafts / i will occasional leave drafts to replies here so i can come back for them at a later point

BOTS.

bot : writing / my preferred bot for this is writer bot - linked above, i use this channel to set/check my goals, set up writing sprints, and occasionally get prompts for writing.

bot : tupperbox / i like to set up all my tuppers in privacy, so i find having my own sever with a channel makes it easy to change my avatar and other tupper information quick and also to test them without spamming a group tupper channel. ( tupperbox - linked above )

bot : reminders / i will often set up a channel for reminders because i'm super forgetful and having a reminder bot helps me get to tasks in a timely manner ( when i remember to set up the bot!! lol ) ( reminder bot - linked above )

bot : tracker / i'm not sure if this tracker has the function to work cross server yet, you'd have to check with the makers on their github, but this is great for 1x1 and group servers. ( thread tracker - linked above )

DEVELOPMENT.

dev : names / a channel to store ideas for muse names, etomology, etc

dev : prompts / a channel to store ask memes, character & writing prompts, etc

dev : inspiration / a channel to store character/muse inspiration, photos, videos, posts, even just a list of words/aesthetics, etc

dev : brainstorm / a place to spitball ideas for new muses and/or plots, i like to utilize the voice message feature here and just talk out my ideas so i can listen back to them later when incorporating them into a new muse.

dev : headcanons / a channel to store headcanons ( if utilizing the community feature, you could make this a forum and separate the headcanons into posts for each muse : see image below for example ).

dev : faces / a channel to store resources for you muse face claims, i would store social media posts, photoshoots, gif set links, etc ( if utilizing the community feature, you could make this a forum and separate the faces into posts for each face claim : see image below for example ).

ROLEPLAY.

rp : masterlist / a channel to host your own character masterlist, you can format this however you like, or even use forums - you could link to other channels in the muse category.

rp : plots / a channel to post links and ideas for plots wanted for muses and roleplay groups.

rp : wishlist / a channel to post roleplay wishlist items, links, ideas, etc

rp : promotions / a channel to post links for roleplay promotions either to your own groups or groups that you'd like to keep an eye on.

rp : groups / i use this channel to store the links to my current roleplay groups, links to the main blog, any relevant sideblogs, as well as a list of muses i currently have active within them.

rp : partners / helpful for storing a list of mains (for indies), with names, pronouns, links to rules, muses, etc - or for 1x1 lists of partners.

RESOURCES.

all of these are pretty self explanatory, you can store resources you use for tumblr and other types of roleplay in these channels, gifs, icons, templates, themes, etc.

ACTIVE MUSES.

muse : name / you can basically store your muse information, biographies, links to blogs, musings, edits, and whatever else you like. ( if utilizing the community feature, you could make this a forum and separate items into posts : see image below for example )

CONNECTIONS.

ship : name • name / similarly to the muse section, you can store your ship dynamic and details here, links to you partner's blog, ship tag, edits, headcanons, etc ( if utilizing the community feature, you could make this a forum and separate items into posts : see image below for example )

[cator99]

I love making phone calls I love sending emails and being overall pleasant to interact with I love looking for solutions and being eager to understand how the world around me operates and to ask people about the role they play in this beautiful world I love being able to tell that other people are excited for any reason at all to strut their shit in this way and I always take notes on how they do it. It's all so funny to me. I am doing this because I am an insane person. I am the best person for the job. I am like the inverse of Jude St Francis. Born in a wet cardboard box doomed fucked in the head and forced to make an accommodation with life BUT I think its cunty and will commit awesomely violent ritual seppuku when my life is at its absolute peak. But yeah I dont get anxiety anymore if I dont like something it I can just thank them for their time and then find a way to leave and literally do anything else no one really cares as long as you do it right and you know like you can just keep looking for better things you literally never know you might turn out to be really passionate about fish mongering and didnt even consider it and it's not always easy but if the alternative is unbearable then fuck it pack a bag and stick your thumb out on the highway and spend 2 hours chatting about life with a fat 60 year old semi truck driver with photos of his happy fatty family plastered over the entirety of his dashboard and who was concerned why some kid was wandering the highway without a jacket and is nothing but totally kind and appropriate towards you which you kind of didnt expect when you hit the road but then you get to the city and go to an orgy party at some xi/xirs apartment who you met while on a psychiatrist-approved leave to attend an LGBT youth summer camp during the tail end of your 4 month stay at a youth mental health/detention facility but you can't stay there because his 40 year old housemate just announced that he's moving to the states and suddenly wouldnt be contributing to next months rent and didn't want to say anything until the night before when his boxes were being actively moved out of the apartment in order to avoid any sort of confrontation and the resulting altercation is heart breaking this 40 year old workig professional gay dude just absolutely betrayed this screwed up teenaged lesbian with no hesitation but maybe the drug fuelled sex parties had something to do with it but im just there stoned watching some tv show about anthropomorphic fast food and xe really did care about me but this was not the time to be pulling some cutesy whimsical runaway shit so we said our goodbyes and xe gave me directions the youth emergency shelter. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream. This was just the "hard" part. I broke the high score on the ancient tetris machine at the day-shelter and barely ate anything because they relied entirely on donations and for whatever reason nobody thought to donate anything gluten free. I slept in the girls quarters of the cold shelter we were taken to every night, driven in huge vans by the staff at the day shelter. The girls were primarily quiet and didnt want to talk or even look at anyone. Some of the native girls were chill to play board games or watch tv with though. The guys were real rough. Mostly drug addicts. Mostly violent. They were known for treating each other terribly. I was told I could "use whatever rooms or washrooms that align with your gender identity". I told them I'd rather use the room that made me less likely to have me end up raped or my pillow pissed on.

[zoe-oneesama]

Since you're done with The Mime (2 episodes in a month?Jeez girl, how is your hand?) the next one is Gorizilla right? What are your thoughts and opinions about the plot and the akuma?

I held onto this because, like Zombizou, I hadn't seen the episode yet. So here are my rambles. I don't think there's much to say since the episode only really pissed me off at the very end. Buckle up for that cuz Mama's gonna swear:

BAG!

Rose that is your SIXTH BAG VARIATION! Portfolio Bag in Orange, Brown, and Mint Green, Orange Book Bag, and now a Pink AND Orange Backpack! At least make them all PINK!

I kinda wish I got to experience this episode without the forknowledge that Adrien was sneaking out to see his mother's movie. I don't know if it was a good or a bad thing that for half the episode it's completely unexplained why Adrien is putting himself through Mob Horde Hell and avoiding his own bodyguard. It felt worth it for me because I knew, but maybe it would feel weird watching it and being like "why are you doing this to yourself?" I thought the same for "Ikari Gozen": "How would I feel watching this episode if I didn't know Kagami was trying to make friends until Marinette knew?"

While I totally buy Marinette and other tweens being drooly over this ad (sorta) I do not buy everyone and their mom dropping everything to swarm the kid and I DEFINITELY do not buy anyone watching that commercial and thinking the actor in it was "cool" the way Wayhem did lmao. Adrien was right when he said it was embarrassing, good on him for being self aware about it.

Also who thought it was a good idea to sell "Perfume eu de Teenage Boy"?

It's fun to watch Roger call the Bodyguard "little guy". My guy, he could eat you for sustenance. You're a vitamin to this brick house of a man.

"My dad hid the DVD somewhere at our place". For a man who's whole motive is reviving his "dead" wife, he sure has weird ways of keeping her alive in their hearts. Statues and paintings of her likeness? Good. A movie of his moving, talking, living mother? Bad.

Production Budget so weak she doesn't get a costume smh.

(I had nothing to say about the whole akuma, it was pretty much a standard, decent akuma. Plus I'm a sucker for one side of the mask catching their partner talking fondly of the other side, ie Ladybug telling Adrien she has faith in Chat Noir)

But from this point onwards, it's all downhill for me:

You worm, you scum, YOU made an akuma and YOU ordered it to capture your son and YOU allowed that akuma to take your son to the highest building in Paris and YOU put him in the middle of the fight between your akuma and Ladybug and YOU allowed him to be dropped off the side of that building and YOU WAITED UNTIL THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND TO ALLOW LADYBUG TO SAVE HIM and YOU. ARE. TO. BLAME! Take responsibility for yourself!

I want everyone who calls Marinette a "stalker" to shut the fuck up because Adrien just handed his email address over to the guy who traced his every single move for a whole day despite Adrien literally running from him at every turn and posted his photo and location online without consent and no one ever seems to care about that.

And the coup de grace, the cherry on the shit sundae: "You just had to ask me."

Fuck. You.

He DID ask and you told your own son, with eyes pointed at the ground, twisting his ring anxiously, to make an appointment through your secretary. Eat a bag of dicks.

and Oh. OH. To wrap it up with "You should've trusted me" and "when you hide things I jump to the worst conclusions, you understand?" (literally outloud I said "No I don't understand, what "conclusions" is Adrien supposed to assume you mean?")

But the gall. THE AUDACITY. It was intentional, right? To end the episode after that CHEF'S KISS OF A BULLSHIT LINE by panning down to Emilie in the basement? Gabriel Lord of the Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlbossing over here scolding ADRIEN for not trusting HIM. MAYBE IF YOU GAVE THE KID 5% OF A REASON TO DO SO-

Thing is this could either be Cinematic Gold to frame the Agreste family's self destruction and inevitable implosion due to his manipulation of Adrien, or (more likely) this will be completely forgotten as they try to convince audiences to FoRgIvE GaBrIEL cuz LOOK he eventually let Ladybug save Adrien from being sidewalk paste so it evens out, RiGhT?

Also what a let down that there wasn't an in universe shipping war between pairing Adrien with his "towel girlfriend" and "Gabriel's muse."

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | one

*Ellie’s POV* 

It’s been a whole year since I left. I thought it would be harder to live without Noah, but it wasn’t. It was almost a sigh of relief getting out of his world. I blocked them all out for the most part. I stopped listening to their music, unfollowed all their social media accounts, deleted all my photos of them. It was as if that part of my life never existed. 

I settled into my new life quite happily and Tyler and I finalized our divorce with no problems, much to my surprise. Liam lives with me full time and Tyler takes him whenever he’s able or if I need him to. I got a new job working for the hospital as a case manager, which meant I was able to work from home. It gave me the freedom to my work schedule around my life instead of the other way around. Everything was falling into place…until today. I dropped Liam off at daycare, came home and got straight to work. I took a few sips of my iced matcha while I read through my emails, today looked like it was going to be a light workload luckily. As I was finishing up my last report, my phone started to ring beside me. I still jumped a bit when my phone rang, half expecting Noah to reach out for some reason. It was Danielle so I picked up. “Hey.” I answered as I put my phone on speaker so I could finish my work. “Wow you actually answered me.” I sighed, I hadn’t been the best at answering my phone lately, “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I just called to ask you about tonight.”

“Why would I want to do that to myself?” I huffed as my stomach started to turn. The band was in town tonight on their new tour, which I wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Matt really misses you, he wants you there.”

“I don’t want to be put in a position where I see Noah.” I felt tears sting my eyes as I said his name. Even though I wanted nothing to do with him, it still hurt to even talk about him.

“Look, I talked to Matt and he promised me Noah wouldn’t find out you’re there.”

“I somehow doubt that. He’s probably hoping I’ll be there”

I felt Danielle’s annoyance in the tone of her voice the more stubborn I became, “Fuck him, I’m talking about being there for Matt. He’s been trying to reach out to you.”

“I know” I swallowed. I started getting dodgy with my texts and stopped replying to him the second he mentioned the tour dates. He wanted me to be there so bad, but I don’t know if I could do it. The idea of being in that atmosphere, hearing those songs again and being near Noah was too much. I worked so hard to close that door. If I went back, it would be for nothing. “Ellie, please. I can only be the messenger for so long, and I don’t want to see you lose one of your best friends like him.” A few tears escaped my eyes, she was right. I’ve really missed him and I haven’t seen him since we said goodbye at the airport. He always asked if I wanted to come see him, or the other way around, but I always made up some excuse why it couldn’t happen. He really did save me a lot of trouble after LA, I guess I owned him this much. “Ok, I’ll go under one condition.” “What’s that?” She replied with some excitement in her voice. “If Noah realizes I’m there, I’m leaving.” “I’ll come pick you up at 5.” I hung up the phone and just sighed. I really had no idea what I was in for.