#this took like two weeks to become relevant for me

[reiderwriter]

🔫 Oh, Captain, My Captain 🔫

Pairing: Unit Chief!Spencer Reid x Fem BAU!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: Unit Cheif!Spencer who uses gun training as an excuse to rub up on the new member🤭

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Gun kink, dubcon, dry humping, pictures/photos, age gap, Pervert! Spencer, unprotected sex, implied cream pie, semi-public sex, boss x employee dynamic, spanking, masturbation, slight cum play, degradation (slut, whore etc), praise kink if you squint (good girl).

A/N: This is my first entry for the CM Kink Bingo challenge 2024~! I chose a lot of the prompts based on some of the smut requests in my inbox and let my TELL you I was SO EXCITED to write Unit Chief + gun kink!!! I'm so excited for this entire challenge tbh, it reminds me of the good old days on past years' Kinktober 😂🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

When Spencer Reid was made the interim Unit Chief for the BAU, he agreed with the reasoning. At the time, he really couldn't argue that he was aptly experienced, responsible enough to make big decisions, and reliable. And whilst he had been through a lot in the last two decades with the FBI, he still did value his own sense of morality. 

He accepted the job and then was assigned you as an intern, and suddenly, he didn't agree with any previous assessment of him. 

Experienced, yes, but he was still stammering and rambling when discussing simple things like the weather. He certainly wasn't responsible enough to keep his eyes off you, and he probably couldn't be relied on in the field to focus instead of thinking about your pretty, plump lips and how they would feel wrapped around his cock. 

All morality had gone out of the window after a week of working with you when he closed his office blinds, popped his pants open and took his cock in hand, relieving himself while staring at your newly printed ID card. 

He had a lot of power, during the few months Emily was away, and he was trying desperately not to use it. 

Unfortunately, with great power comes a great amount of orders to give, and since you reported directly to Unit Chief Reid, you'd become his de facto shadow for the first few weeks. You bought him coffees when you got your own, asked him for quick run downs of past cases so you could take notes and remember relevant details for later, asked him for help writing reports. 

Which caused the blinds to be drawn at least once a day as he desperately tried to keep his hands off you. 

Emily had joked when leaving him behind that she'd usually give the new boss the “don't shit where you eat” speech, especially with people in your chain of command, but it really wasn't necessary with him. Of all people. 

It didn't help that you were so damn clumsy in the office. You were usually pretty calm and collected, but since starting at the BAU, the pressure was getting to you a bit. 

You made small mistakes, you double, and triple checked your work, and you were constantly in Spencer's office asking him for opinions on topics, for background information, and for, well, reassurance. 

And you dropped stuff. A lot of stuff. 

Your analytical Monday have been perfectly suited to the BAU, but somewhere between your head and your hands, all your body parts refused to function adeptly. You'd dropped things constantly, tripped on your own feet, and constantly bumped into people even while they stood still. 

Not to mention the time your dropped your (thankfully, iced) coffee all over Spencer's lap when you'd brought him his own. 

“Oh my- Oh my god, Doctor Reid, I am so so sorry,” you scrambled, immediately grabbing tissues as he jumped up from the desk. 

“Please let me help you, god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry-” you said, patting away as his lap as he stood frozen in front of you. You dropped to your knees to mop up the traces of coffee still running down his thighs, as he stammered. 

“Y/N, please, you don't need to, I have a spare pair I can-” 

“I'll have them dry cleaned, I promise,” you begged, just as a knock sounded and the door to his office swung back open for JJ to enter through. 

“Spencer, the files for the- woah! Okay, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I'm still backing out of this room right now.” 

She laughed her way out of the room, which was when your brain finally caught up to your hands and realized the stupid position you'd put yourself in. 

You'd practically pushed your boss up against the wall, kneeled before him, and begged to touch him. 

You'd squeaked out an apology and quickly left the office, much to Spencer's relief, because even after an ice bath and semi-public humiliation, he was hard and horny and his IQ had been knocked to roughly 7. 

How he'd wanted to keep you pinned in place, to stroke your cheek as he made sure you took each inch of him down your throat slowly, filling you up so you couldn't escape. 

How he'd wanted to keep his job as well, something he'd probably not get to do if JJ had decided to walk back in, or - god forbid - bring other witnesses to his debauchery. 

You were clumsy, and he was desperately horny, and you were both complete and total messes.

“I don't see how I can help you, Y/N,” Tara held up her hands in defeat as you begged for her help. 

“I'm competent with a gun, but it's not something I can teach you. I wouldn't know where to start.” 

“I just need someone to show me how to hold it properly. There's a trick to it, right? There has to be a trick to it?” 

“Ah yes, the old aim and shoot trick, I forgot about that one,” Rossi laughed, shaking his head at your office antics. 

You'd been interning for a few weeks, and the latest in a line of ability tests was shooting. You'd pretty much aced the physical fitness test, but you'd never even held a gun before joining the FBI, and you were struggling. 

“I've put in 10 hours at the shooting range in the last week, and the closest I've got to an accurate shot was hitting the next lane's paper. Don't ask.”

Your coworkers shared a sympathetic look as you sat down at the round table, ready to hear the next case details. 

“I'm relegated to office work until I pass this certificate, and I was not made for sitting at a desk for 7 hours.” 

“Well, why don't you ask Reid for help?” JJ said helpfully, bringing her coffee to her lips to hide the meddling smile plastered there. 

“Reid?” 

“He had some issues shooting when he was a rookie as well, but he put in some hours at the range, and now he's the best shot on the team.” 

“Easy there, blondie, I'm nothing to sniff at with a gun myself,” Rossi smiled, patting himself on the back. 

“I'm sure he'd enjoy helping you,” JJ continued. 

“Who would enjoy what?” Spencer said, finally joining the team in the meeting room and pulling out the case files as everyone opened up their tablets. 

“Y/N was just saying she's having some trouble shooting, and I suggested she ask for your help?” 

He froze momentarily and stared down at you as you looked up at him, hopefully, a shy smile on your face. 

He tried to keep his eyes on yours, but from this height, he had the perfect view down your shirt, your perfect-sized breasts pressing together as you leaned towards him, giving him a generous eyeful. 

He looked away quickly and nodded his agreement, sitting himself down and attaching his eyes to the files instead so he could get his mind off of  your body, and your lips, and the begging that surely would've come out of your mouth had he not accepted earlier. His brain was tormenting him with images of you underneath him, under his desk even, his cock in your mouth as you paid for his precious time training you. He blinked away the thoughts and, for once in his life, actually had to put effort into reading and understanding each word on a page as he ignored the raging fire of his lust. 

A few hours later, the two of you were at the shooting range. 

“My main problem is shooting. The instructors said my form isn't great either and that I looked like a child playing with toys whenever I hold a gun, so if you could help with that…?” You said, putting on the goggles and turning back to look at your boss. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked. 

“Oh, yeah. Yes, they said something similar when I was training. First, let's see what you can do.” 

You smiled at him as he watched you bounce up to the lane and pick up the gun. You calmed your breathing and got ready to take the safety off when you felt a hard hand clamp over your own and pull the gun from your hand. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, staring down at you with wide eyes. 

“You said to show you-”

“You're not wearing a vest.” 

You cursed quickly as he pulled you back over to the side of the room. The place was practically deserted, as it was past the official closing hours of the range, but Spencer had been forced to pull some strings with his new title and had managed to keep it open (and somehow unmanned) until now. 

He quickly grabbed the first vest he saw and pulled it over your head, taking the side straps and tightening them until the vest was comfortably protecting all your major organs. His hands lingered for a second, and you stared shocked up at him, somehow enjoying the way he pushed you around. 

You were a grown woman, and you could do this all by yourself, but there was something about a man roughly a decade and a half older than you controlling your movements that were entirely too dangerous. You quickly stepped away and back to the podium, whispering a quick thanks under your breath as you tried to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. 

You stretched out your neck a little as you felt him walk back behind you again, keeping his distance as he watched you shoot your first clip at the targets. 

Out of six bullets, you'd missed the target five times and had grazed just below the targets arm once, a brilliant display of your natural lack of talent. 

“Your form is wrong. You're holding yourself too rigid, which means the recoil has a higher chance to hurt you. Loosen your arms slightly.”

His advice was actually good  and you followed his instructions closely, listening clearly as he walked you through each tip. 

“Like this?” 

“A little more… here, let me.” 

You had no chance to react before his body was pressed behind yours and his hands were wrapped around your own, moving g each finger by a fraction to improve your grip, trailing up your arms slowly, leaving a field of goosebumps wherever his fingers grazed. He repositioned your elbows before moving forward his hands down to your hips, turning them slightly as he widened your stance. 

“Try now.” 

Breathless, you could only nod as he stepped back, unaware if he'd even said anything since his hands had landed on you. 

You forced yourself to breathe again and took one shot.

"Oh my god, it hit. Spencer, it hit!” 

“Do it again and we can celebrate.” 

Another five shots later, and you'd managed a small cluster of hits around the arms and one shot. 

“You're definitely veering left, so let's try and over correct by aiming to the right.”

He pushed up against you again and held the gun, moving it to the right a fraction, taking complete control of your body. 

If your breath was scarce before, it was totally gone now as you felt his crotch press up against your ass. Considering the bulletproof vests put an extra inch around your chests, he was absolutely doing it on purpose, and you were shocked to realize you were too. 

You'd pushed your ass back into him, grinding slowly on his hardening cock as he hooked his head over your shoulder, looked down the sight with you, and fired the gun. 

Straight into the center of the target. 

“Good girl,” he whispered before pulling away.  

He moved two meters away from you, and maintained the distance for the rest of the night, and even though you were both aware of his hard cock tightening his pants, neither of you said a word. 

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and grabbed his jacket to leave. It was the first thing he'd said as your Unit Chief that even vaguely sounded like a command and not an enthusiastic suggestion, and you were suddenly very excited for the rest of the week. 

“Before we start,” he said the next day, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows neatly. “Show me your posture again.” 

He gestured towards one of the dummy guns at the side of the range, the style you recognised from mission training that held small layers instead of bullets - same weight, same mechanism, no lethality. 

You'd spent the day and night worked up from the last time you'd been here with him, and a small part of you felt disappointed you were starting with the kiddy gun. Not one to miss an opportunity, though. You bent over to pick it up, making sure to bend at the waist right in front of him to show off your ass. 

Maybe you'd gone crazy, but the memory of his touch was burning you from the inside out and you needed to feel it again to make sure you weren't crazy. 

He maintained his distance, though. It was hard for him to keep his hands off you in all honesty, arms crossed to keep himself from crossing any more lines. That and he was sure that you'd be able to tell he'd spurted cum all over them in his office the night before despite him scrubbing them thoroughly multiple times, the weight of his guilt eating into him like a parasite.

“Arms up, point straight. Good.” You tried to keep still as he assessed your form, but his eyes prowled over you thoroughly, and you had to suppress a shudder. 

“You need to control your breathing, Y/N, you can't be afraid of pulling the trigger if you need to.” 

“I'm not-” 

“Shoulders back,” he said, moving to your side as he again began slightly correcting your form. 

Unlike the day before, though, this time, there were no bullets. And no bullets meant no bulletproof vest. 

That's why when his exploring hands came to your chest, he could feel your hardening nipples through the flimsy material of your dress. He could feel you pressing forward into his touch as his hands cupped your breast.

“Calm your heartbeat, Y/N. You need to stay calm so you can shoot straight, right?” 

The words sounded alien, even to him. His gaze was locked on the top of your shirt, looking down it to the slope of your chest, disappearing into your dress. He so wanted to let his hands disappear right along with them, to pull you back into his aching cock and play with your nipples until you cried out for mercy. 

He let his touch fall and played off his molestation as correction, even as your underwear grew slick with desire. 

“Grab your vest. Let's try again.” 

A week of late night training later, and you weren't sure if you were improving at all. The guns were the last thing on your mind when Spencer's hands were on you, his voice in your ear telling you how good you were for him, such a good subordinate. 

Both of you had yet to acknowledge that you were spending the majority of the session just rubbing up on each other, like teens at prom, desperate for whatever friction you could get without having to name the game you were playing. 

“Doctor Reid, if I hit the target this time, can you do something for me?” You chanced on the Friday, needing something else to tide you over for the weekend. 

“What do you need?” 

“No, no, nothing specific, just like a…a reward?"

He'd done his best to keep his hands off of you, which meant that he'd failed miserably, and he knew exactly what he'd like to treat you to as a reward. Keeping his hands of you in daytime hours had become harder and harder as the week flew by, and he felt like a randy school boy the amount of times he'd needed to excuse himself to either kill his bones or abuse his cock with his hand.

“Oh,” he said, growing quiet. You took his hesitation for rejection, and immediately began to back pedal. 

“Y-You don't have to, sir. It was really quite conceited on my part to demand a reward from y-” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“If you shoot six bullets that hit either the chest or the head, you'll get a reward.”

You smiled brightly at him, suddenly feeling very hopeful. 

“But if you miss, you'll get the opposite.” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what they meant. Just hearing the words made him want to visibly cringe and write himself up for office misconduct. But your smile didn't fade one bit. 

“Yes, sir. I won't let you down.” 

Turning away from him, you loaded your weapon again, and he watched you put yourself into the correct position. Despite his middling efforts to actually teach you, you had seemed to have improved over the last few days. 

He wasn't sure if he wanted that outcome. 

Just as you stepped up to take your first shot, he stepped closer to you, wrapped his hands around your waist, and pushed up against you. 

Your first shot veered left, completely missing the target as you gasped. Spencer had popped open the front button of your pants and was unzipping them, letting his hand wonder down to your panties. 

“Look straight. There will be distractions out in the field, you can do this, right?” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

You tried to steady your breathing g and your hands again as he began rubbing slow circles into your underwear, your body alight with lust as you let him. 

Your second shot hit the paper. Your third didn't. 

“You can do better than that, Y/N.” 

You took another deep breath and picked up your gun again, shooting just as he shoved your underwear to one side and dipped his fingers into you. 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you quickly shot your last three bullets, not caring where they went so much as where his fingers went. 

“Y/N, I expected better,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he took the gun from your hands with his spare. “You can't even handle a weapon like this.” 

He kept his fingers pumping shallowly inside you, as he inspected the gun again. 

“Maybe you'd learn better under duress. I did, too. It's easy to learn when there's a gun pointed yo your head, right?” 

He quickly turned the gun on you  pushing it to your temple as his other hand shoved your pants down. He angled you forward with a press of his hips as his fingers returned to your cunt and slipped deeper inside. 

“S-Spencer, fuck-” 

“You missed all six bullets, so punishment it is.” His fingers gained speed as you stood, flushed and spreading your legs for him. You wanted to bury your head in your arms and scream out your moans, but the gun to your head kept you quiet and in place. 

“You may not be able to shoot a gun, Y/N, but that doesn't mean you're not enjoying them. You're so wet for me.” 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you felt your climax build and build, chasing the high you'd been searching for with every unprotected touch. 

You were letting your boss touch you, letting a man almost old enough to be your father hold a gun to your head, and you were going to squirt all over his fingers very soon. 

“Spencer, Spencer, please- please….”

“Shhh, it’s okay. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You just needed some more help learning. You can cum now, princess. It's okay, let go.” 

You tried your best to hold back, but your body had a mind of its own as your orgasm hit you, the cold metal of the gun finally moving away from your head. 

With one hand around your waist, pinning you to the side so you stayed upright, Spencer carefully placed the gun back down before dragging your pants back up your legs. 

Taking your elbow in his hand, he walked you to the door as you blinked out the daze in your eyes. 

“We're going to my office now. To talk about your recent performance.” 

You couldn't have cared less what he'd said as long as his hands were on you, stretching your head back so it rested on his chest and pushing up until your lips could connect with the bare skin at his neck. 

“Hands off. We're going to walk all the way back to my office, and you're not going to let anyone know what just happened, okay? Not with your words, or your expressions or body language, okay?” 

You nodded, but he kept a hand on your elbow, gesturing yourself forward. 

You weren't sure how you were even able to walk after what had to have been the most intense orgasm of your life, but the promise of more likely carried you all the way up the stairs until you were comfortably enclosed in Spencer's  office. 

Like he'd found himself doing multiple times a day this month, Spencer closed the blinds, pulling you down to the sofa with him as he sat. 

“When I was your age,” he started, making sure your ass was facing up as he pushed your head into the cushions gently. 

“When I was your age, I couldn't shoot well. My Unit Chief had to kick some sense into me. I think you need that as well, right, Y/N? You need someone to beat some sense into you?” 

You nodded as he stroked your hair, and he thanked you for being so open to him. 

He made quick work of your pants and underwear, and in a quick hot burst, his hand came down on your ass. 

“Fuck, more. Please more!” 

He did it again and again as you squirmed in his lap and moaned, begging him to keep brutalizing you. 

“That's it, show me how pathetic you are, show me how much you're craving my attention.” 

He pushed your legs off of his lap until you were kneeling on the floor underneath him. He pulled up your arms and pulled your shirt over your head, similarly discarding your tank top and bra until you were totally bare on the floor in front of him. 

Instead of stripping himself yet, he pulled out his phone, palming himself through his pants. 

“Show yourself off,” he said, pointing the camera at you. 

You followed his directions quickly, hands flying to your tits to fondle them while he took pictures of your fucked our face. 

With his foot he gently nudged you down onto all yours, letting you know to turn around so he could flash a picture or two of your sloppy cunt as well. 

Your hips rocked back and forth in the air, unconsciously searching for something to rub against, some relief from your frustrations. 

He kept snapping pictures. 

Deciding that you needed his attention and stat, you let your chest fall to the floor, face flat too as your hips lifted higher in the air. Your hands found your ass cheeks, and you spread them slightly, giving Spencer an even better view of how much you needed him. 

He took one last photo, and then he knelt behind you faster than you could expect. 

In a heartbeat, his pants were down, in two his cock was buried deep inside of you. 

“So…tight, shit. You're such a precious little slut, you kept this little pussy nice and fresh just for me, right?” 

It was all you could do not to cum right there, and when he started moving you were a goner. It had always been easier for you to cum a second time than it was for you to cum a first time, and considering how quick he'd made it happen earlier, you really should've been expecting it. 

Your body convulsed around his cock as you screamed into the floor, hands still spreading yourself wide for him as he rutted into you. 

“That's it, milk my cock, Y/N. Milk your bosses cock, let me blow my load inside you.” 

Your nipples rubbed painfully against the carpet, only adding to the storm of stimulation you were experiencing. 

His hips faltered as he collapsed over your body, holding tight as his muscles locked him into place with his orgasm. He came inside you with a grunt, and he felt your cunt still clenching around him, making sure to take every last drop. 

“That- was much - preferable,” you said, gasping for breath. “To shooting - any gun.” 

He rolled off of you as you laughed, body satiated now for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“You still need to work on your gun skills,” he said after you'd detangled yourself, but before either if you had worked up the courage to leave the floor and get dressed. 

“Why?” You said, turning your head to look at him  lying on the floor next to you. 

“It seems I can fire pretty accurately already,” you said, as your hand snaked down to his cock one more time. 

[delusional-day-dreamer]

First. Love. Part² - p.b

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‣ paige bueckers x oc

‣ wc: 12079 (this took me way too long but I got carried away...)

‣‣ synopsis: background on paige and jenna's relationship, how they met, fell in love, and how paige ended up becoming jenna's first heartbreak and eternal muse.

‣‣‣ a/n: So High School Part 2 will be out soon (i have no idea where to take the plot in that series 😔), this is sort of a filler chapter in between the podcast episode in part 3 to give context. EDIT: I changed Jenna's major to be Business Economics with a minor in Film, Television, and Digital Media because it's more relevant for the later plot!

June 30th, 2016 (summer before freshman year; 14 years old)

Jenna's POV:

You didn't know how much more of this stupid city you could handle. You had just locked your front door behind you as you left to go to the pool inside your new neighborhood, excited to read a book you had bought the other day while sunbathing on a lounge chair.

Your parents had just uprooted your life and moved you from San Diego, California, land of sunshine, beaches, and only a small amount of criminal activity, to middle of nowhere Hopkins, Minnesota, right before you started high school with all of your old friends.

Of course you understood that this was for the better of your family, both of your parents had gotten new jobs at a huge hospital with far better pay than their previous ones, they found a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood close to what was going to be your new school, and living in your dad's hometown meant being close to his family.

However, none of these facts soothed the bitter taste in your mouth that formed at the thought of having to be the new kid, having no friends to hang out with for the rest of summer or to start school off with, no job or classes to distract your never-ending train of thoughts, and you didn't even have a sibling to act as your built in friend.

Regardless, you tried your best to adjust to your new, albeit lonely, life by distracting yourself as much as possible. Your parents had re-enrolled you in music lessons the same week you finished moving into your house, gave you an allowance to buy new clothes and hang out at the local mall, as you very quickly realized your Californian wardrobe would not fit the Minnesota weather, despite it being summertime (although you hadn't gone yet as you hated shopping alone), and you had even been going to the pool frequently with the hopes of meeting kids close to your age.

And it just so happened that today, your prayers had been answered. As you were walking down the street, the door to a house you had just crossed by across the street had barely opened before a small boy barrels out, closely followed by a taller, blonde girl who appeared to be around your age, locking the door behind the two of them. You weren't able to put a finger on it, but there was simply something about the girl that was mesmerizing, just a quick glance at her had you wanting to know more.

You had always known you liked girls to some extent, you always found yourself gazing at the t.v. in wonder at the beautiful girls displayed upon the screen. However, it wasn't until probably a hundred, "Am I Gay?" internet quizzes later in seventh grade you recognized the fact that you were queer and were in fact attracted to girls, you just didn't bother telling anyone about this revelation.

In particular, the girl in front of you invoked millions of questions that raced through your mind: who was she, was she your age, was she going to the same high school as you, and most importantly, why was she so pretty? Her blonde hair cascaded down her back with a slight wave to them, her white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts draped over her tall frame, and her voice that rang out as she scolded the little boy who ran in front of her to the end of their walkway.

God, her voice was the most intoxicating thing you had ever heard, luring you into her like a siren's song to the depths of the ocean. You swore you were floating at the twinkling sound of her laughter echoing around the block as she joked with, who you head her refer to as, her little brother.

You snapped out of your stunned daze and continued walking forward as she followed her little brother onto the main sidewalk, now almost parallel with your frame. You were mentally counting your blessings that she hadn't looked up enough to see your stalker-esque figure staring at her, although you were praying that she happened to be going to the pool as well (definitely not so you could look at her some more).

Truly, God had decided to pay special attention to you today, as your blonde neighbor grabbed her little brother's hand as she crossed the street, making her way towards you. You couldn't help but glance at her as she approached you, and you were taken aback by the shockingly blue eyes that met yours. You gave her a tight-lipped smile as she stepped up to the sidewalk just behind you, hoping your internal panic wasn't apparent on your face as you faced forward once again.

Your focus on taking deep breaths in and out to not embarrass yourself in front of the first person your age you've even made eye contact with in the last month is interrupted by the little boy running past you, gently bumping into your leg as he brushes past you. His short legs are working overtime to maintain a pace faster than both you and the pretty stranger, who had now jogged up next to you to keep close to her brother.

"Drew the pool isn't gonna run away by the time we get there, you gotta slow down buddy," She called out to the curly-headed child, turning her head to peer slightly down at you.

"Sorry about him, he gets really ahead of himself sometimes," She apologized on his behalf, her eyes scanning over your face. Before giving you a chance to reply, she continued on. "Are you new to the neighborhood? I don't think I've ever seen you around?" She questions, your heart slightly speeding up at the undivided attention she was paying to your face.

"No yeah I am, I just moved here from California," you replied, tucking your hands into the pockets of your shorts to avoid any nervous flailing.

"No way, that's so cool, I've always wanted to visit. Did you live next to the beaches? One of my old friends went there for vacation and she loved it, like she wouldn't shut up about how nice it is over there. I think she went somewhere close to LA. Wait are you going to the pool too?" Her outgoing demeanor surprised you. You had only seen her for the first time a minute ago, and she was already carrying you into a conversation about your old life.

"Yeah I did and I am, I lived in San Diego so the beaches there were really nice compared to the northern part. I miss being able to go there all the time, so I guess for now the pool will just have to do," you joked back, and your heart fluttered at the smile that broke out on her face.

It had appeared that you made your first friend in Hopkins, Minnesota, and unbeknownst to you, she would quickly become your first ever best friend. Then your first girlfriend, your first love, and then slowly, your first and last heartbreak.

April 4th, 2017 (spring break, freshman year; 15 years old)

Paige's POV:

"Dude there's no way you think pancakes are supposed to be better than waffles, they're so boring," I protested on my bed next to Jenna, rolling onto my stomach towards her and propping up my elbows so I could look at her. Jenna had somehow become my best friend within the span of two months during summer, and although I was unsure of when and how her presence became so prominent in my life in such a quick span of time, I was nothing but grateful.

We had started high school together and even had a class together everyday, which was a saving grace for both of us. She came to every single one of my home games this season, even some of the closer away games. She made it to more of my games that any person in my family did, which surprised me, but she just was always there for me somehow.

I was never the best at making friends outside of basketball, the sport was my comfort zone and it was always so much easier to relate to my teammates who felt the same. Yet, me and Jenna just clicked, despite our many differences. Hanging out with her quenches a thirst within me I didn't know I had. A thirst to be seen, to be heard and known, a desire for someone to see me past all my future athletic potential and to just see me, and without fail, she did that for me. Every. Time.

One of the things we discovered early into our friendship, the first time she came over to my house to hang out, were our matching initials. PB and JS, which we affectionately coined to be our nicknames, Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich (pretend pazzi does not own this nickname). Jenna always says that our matching initials are a sign from above, a sign that we're meant to stick by the other's side. We even bought matching necklaces with our initials over winter break as a mutual Christmas present, mine was silver and hers was gold.

Our parents loved the nickname as well, joking that it's the reason they can never separate us, as you just can't have one without the other. Our families somehow became intertwined over the course of our friendship as well, trading in between carpool duties, spending long weekends and the occasional holiday together, and even coming to cheer me on at my basketball games or watching Jenna's dance recitals from the class she took instead of P.E. We all even went out to eat together to celebrate me and Jenna's small freshmen year milestones, like our birthdays.

Hers was a bit before mine, September 21st, 2001, which made her just slightly older than me. Apparently according to the Minnesota school laws or whatever, Jenna is supposed to be in the grade above, but California has different age cutoffs so she's one of the oldest people in our grade.

She confessed to me before school started that she was nervous about being the eldest out of everyone, but I reassured her by saying that it just meant she could drive the two of us around and do a bunch of other things before everyone else could. That really helped.

She even let me into her secret world of music, I knew she took classes but until she played and sang for me, I didn't realize just how good she was. She was fairly shy when it came to her talent, and almost never played in front of people she wasn't comfortable with, which is why it felt like an honor when she played a song on the piano or guitar for me, or sang for or with me, whether it was playing from the radio or something small she wrote.

But the thing that really brought us closer together was when Jenna's parents had to go out of town from time to time for their medical conferences, which left her home alone. When she was younger, she always used to go with them, as missing school wasn't that big of a deal. But now, she ended up refusing, insisting that she would be alright home alone.

This didn't fly with either of our families, and our parents eventually came to the conclusion that Jenna could just stay over at our house when needed. It wasn't like me and Jenna didn't have sleepovers all the time anyways, and both me and Drew loved having her over. She even met my Mom and my two other little siblings, Ryan and Lauren. The three of them immediately took to her the way I did, entranced by her presence. She loved hanging out with them too, since she was an only child.

There was something about Jenna that somehow attracted people to her. Maybe it was her welcoming presence, the way she made you feel like the most important person in the world with the way she looked at you, or perhaps it was something appealing about her appearance. The small makeup she put on and the way she spent extra time styling her hair was always unnecessary in my opinion, I always thought she was the prettiest person in our grade.

Sometimes I wondered if the two of us were truly best friends. I know friends hang out a bunch like we do, they don't mind changing in the same room or even in front of each other, and they definitely feel comfortable enough to cuddle together in bed or while watching a movie. Right?

But sometimes I swear there's a weird fluttering in my stomach when Jenna's bare legs drape over mine on the couch, or sometimes my heart skips a beat when we're getting ready for bed and she just pauses while changing her shirt, intent on continuing our conversation even while standing in just her bra.

But it's okay for friends to do that right? I mean, I've only ever had crushes or thought boys were attractive, so everything I'm feeling is probably just from the fact that I've never had a best friend like Jenna. Sure, I've had a bunch of friends and teammates I'm really close to, but me and Jenna spend all of our time together, and there's almost nothing we wouldn't do together. Sometimes, we just take turns showering while the other person stays in the bathroom just so we can keep talking.

Which led the two of us up to now, spending spring break sprawled out on my bed at 9pm, arguing about whether waffles or pancakes were better. We never had any real arguments, but with me and Jenna both being super competitive and never wanting to be wrong, we always had long discussions "fighting" about meaningless topics.

"Pancakes are so much smoother and like, enjoyable to eat compared to waffles, plus waffles end up crispy at the edges and they just end up tasting weird," She insisted, adjusting herself from her back to her side so she could argue with me face to face.

Her hair fell over her shoulder when she moved, leaving her shoulder exposed as her, no, my sweatshirt had slightly slouched down as it was big on her. Jenna wasn't exactly short, she was around 5'5, it's just that I happened to be even taller.

"Girls, come down for dinner please," my step-mom yelled from downstairs before I could even snap out of my distracted state to argue back.

"Coming Mrs. Bueckers," Jenna took the initiative to yell back slightly when I didn't respond in time, still in shock as to why I ended up staring at my best friend, distracted by her bare shoulder in my clothes. Me and Jenna always shared clothes, we even kept clothing and toiletry spares in each others rooms for spontaneous sleepovers. So why was her wearing my sweatshirt, in my bed, so different this time?

Whatever the reason was, I didn't have time to even think it over before Jenna got up from next to me, grabbing my hands with hers so she could yank me up as well, complaining that she was hungry. She kept our hands interlocked as we left my room, walking down the stairs hurridley. It was a miracle she didn't notice that for some reason, her soft, warm hands in mine had left a barely noticeable blush on my cheeks.

October 28th, 2017 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Come on J hurry up, it's just a stupid party," Paige walked into your bathroom as you were almost finished curling your hair. "I'm on my last section P chill, I'll be done in a minute," you reassured her reflection. The two of you were invited to a Halloween party, but apparently you weren't supposed to dress up since technically it's not Halloween yet? (skinny jeans were the shit in 2017 but I can't bring myself to write that that's what they're wearing 😔)

You were both confused about it but the junior who invited you guys, Alexa, was one of your friends from math class. You were sat together on the first day and despite both of you struggling here and there, you often got the concepts a little bit quicker than her, so you always helped her when possible. And in return, she got the two of you an invite, well technically she invited you but everyone knows you and Paige are a package deal, to one of the biggest house parties of the school year.

It was also going to be the first party you were ever going to, and you both agreed to not go overboard on the drinks, since your aunt cristina, who was visiting, was going to pick and drop you in her car. Your mom's sister couldn't have chosen a better time to come visit, as both of your parents were working the night shift tonight and Paige's parents allowed her to sleepover at your house since your aunt was supposed to "supervise".

"See, I'm ready, let's go," you told Paige as you finished your hair with a thin layer of hairspray, moving past her into your room to grab your phone and keys. Your parents had gotten you a used Ford F-150 truck (so gay) so it would be easier for you to drive to school, with Paige of course, since they both started working longer hours now that you were old enough to take care of yourself and so that they could retire earlier.

You both made your way downstairs to your Aunt Cristina on the couch, watching tv while waiting for you to finish getting ready. "Ready to hit the road girls?" She got up to turn off the tv and grab her things from around the living room.

"Yup, thank you again for taking us, and for not telling our parents," Paige responded on your behalf as well. It was typical of adults to love Paige, she was always the most respectful and responsible kid in their eyes, even when thanking your aunt for driving you to a party so you could drink responsibly.

"No problem, I'd rather you girls be safe while having fun, no point in sneaking out if I'm here for you," She joked as you moved to get in her car, and within ten minutes, the three of you were pulled up outside the address Alexa had given you.

"Now please just remember to be safe, have fun, drink responsibly, don't leave your drinks unattended, don't try drinks from random people, keep your phone on you, don't leave each other's side," Your aunt was rambling off safety rules to the two of you in the backseat. You thought it was ironic she had to mention for you to stay together as if you ever left each other's side anyways.

"Yes Auntie C of course," You promised her as you moved to open the car door, "We'll be safe and I'll text you, love you, thanks, bye!" You closed the door the second Paige climbed out from the backseat, eager to walk into the house you could hear music blaring out of.

Before you knew it, the two of you were sitting pressed up together on a couch in a crowded living room, two red solo cups in hand with sprite and vodka. You and Paige were tipsy from the past two hours of drinking, a warm fuzziness settled into our brains, making the circle of people around us funnier than they probably were.

"No you know what we should play, seven minutes in heaven!" A drunk junior called out mid-conversation. You weren't really absorbing anything that was being said around you until that, and the loud cheers that erupted from the living room at the suggestion.

"Everybody gather around in a circle on the floor, whoever spins it has to go in the guest bedroom with the person it lands on for seven minutes," Alexa called out to everyone as she reached for an empty beer bottle behind her, before moving to sit on the floor.

"D'you wanna play?" Paige asked quietly next to you. You could tell she was hesitant on joining, and would only sit down if you went with her or dragged her with you.

"Why not, what are the chances we get picked anyways?" You decided, downing the last sip of your drink before setting it down on the floor, pulling Paige off the couch with you and into the circle.

"Before we start," Alexa loudly interrupted the conversation of the circle as she placed the beer bottle in the middle, causing everyone to quiet down and listen to her. "If you get picked to go in the room, you do not, and I repeat do not, have to do anything. The room stays unlocked the whole time, and you can't force the other person to do anything, even kiss," She insisted, making eye contact with every person in the circle before sitting back down in her spot.

"Agreed?" She asked everyone, and only allowed the game to start after hearing a response from everyone.

The game started and by the fourth round, everyone except one couple had clearly used the seven minutes to their advantage, coming out with tousled hair, bruised lips, and one girl even came out with a visibly red hickey on her neck. You and Paige had yet to be picked, and you felt a sense of relief that the two of you got to participate without having to actually play the game.

But, you suppose you must have spoken (or thought) too soon though, as you watched the next guy spin the bottle, and it slowed to a stop, the neck pointing right at you. Encouragements and cheers burst from the circle, urging the two of us to go in the room. You recognized who he was from around campus and his games, a junior volleyball player.

He got up from his seat, walking across the circle to you, and offering his hand to pull you up. You looked over hesitantly at Paige, who was barely meeting your eyes and had a small, tight-lipped smile on her face. Ignoring her reaction, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to hoist you up, dropping it the moment you stood in front of him.

You walked into the room first, sitting on the desk pushed up against the wall as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you, leaving a foot of space in between you two, presumably waiting for you to give him some sort of indicator.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't really mind but I wasn't really planning on getting picked and I'm not comfortable, like, kissing you or anything so if you want to pick someone else I get it, I just don't want to," the nervous ramble poured out of you without constraint, the alcohol you had consumed making you more open-lipped than normal.

"Hey it's cool, you heard Alexa, you don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he shrugged, moving to take a seat on the edge of the queen bed in the room.

"Oh, thank you, I guess. I didn't think you would be so cool about your turn being wasted," You settled on top of the desk properly, turning to face the boy who was surprisingly chill.

"Nah it's whatever, I just broke up with my girlfriend like a month ago too, so I don't really care. I'm Jeremy by the way," he introduced, bringing one foot off the floor to rest over his other knee, leaning slightly back onto the bed.

"I'm Jenna, this is my first party so I wasn't really sure how all of this was gonna go."

"Jenna, I swear I've heard your name before," he paused, thinking for a moment. "Ohh, you’re the one who's friends with the basketball girl, Paige something right?" He suddenly remembered.

"Yeah I came with her tonight, she's my best friend," You smiled, talking about Paige was one of the easiest things in the world for you. You knew everything about her, inside and out, and majority of people knew you through her, since her athleticism made her quite popular around school. You never minded being known as Paige's best friend though, you knew you had your own identity and Paige always reminded anyone who referred to you as that, but there was a certain comfort that your friendship was strong enough for even a stranger to know that about you.

You and Jeremy continued small talking about school and a little bit about his ex-girlfriend before a knock rang out from the door, signaling that your time was up. He got up before you and held the door open as you walked out, instantly being bombarded with excited whoops and teasing "oooo's" as you walked to join the circle again.

"We didn't even do anything, guys" Jeremy emphasized to the circle, attempting to calm the rambunctious circle.

"Then why is she red as a tomato? The girl couldn't be blushing harder if she tried," a random girl in the circle yelled out, revving up the groups fever.

"She's like sixteen, chill out. Besides it's probably cause all of you," Jeremy backed you up as you walked over to your previous seat, but before you sat back down, you realized Paige was no longer there.

"Where did Paige go?" You asked the group before the next person could spin the bottle, causing eyes to shoot up at you.

"She went to the kitchen for a refill, so probably still there," Alexa informed you. You nodded at her before walking away, searching for your missing best friend.

You didn't have to look for long before you found her taking a shot in the kitchen with two other random girls, her face souring heavily at the alcoholic taste. You knew Paige hated the taste of alcohol and was never one to submit to peer-pressure, so why was she taking a shot of tequila with strangers?

"Hey P," you walked up to her, resting your hand on her bicep to draw her attention to you.

"Hey J," she responded dryly, but her voice was slightly slurred, moving her arm out of your hold to swap out the shot class for a full solo cup you could only pray she filled herself.

"You wanna leave soon? It's already like one ish?"

"Sure, whatever," she took a long sip from her cup, downing half of whatever she had poured in it.

"Okay, we can wait outside, let the cold air sober us up a bit before Auntie C gets here," you gently pried the red plastic cup out of her hand before grabbing her hand and leading her out to the living room, saying bye to the small amount of friends you knew before walking outside.

The two of you settled onto the edge of the curb at the ending curve of the sidewalk, just far enough from the house to get a little quiet. The stuffed house had been slightly humid, and the light breeze was a refreshing contrast to your previous environment.

"How was it?" Paige's question broke the quiet but tension-filled bubble the two of you had formed.

"How was what?"

"Your seven minutes in heaven," Paige drunkenly mocked.

"P, we didn't do anything. Like, anything anything," you were confused at her attitude, did she know something about Jeremy, or dislike him for some reason?

"You, you didn't kiss him?" The shock was apparent on her face. "The second you left everyone was talking about Jeremy and Jenna kissing in a tree, it was really annoying," she grumbled, you concluded that the alcohol she had consumed must be what was making her weird.

"No way P, I don't want my first kiss to be like that. Forced and with someone I don't even know, let alone like," you scooched closer into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

You awaited a response from her but never get one, she simply leaned her head on top of yours as you waited in a comfortable silence for your ride, which came quickly.

*small time skip*

You had just finished your short skincare routine and were finally ready to climb into bed with Paige, the long night had taken its toll on you, and you were ready to collapse into the warm embrace of your best friend. But tonight, when you laid down next to her in bed, she didn't immediately cuddle into you like she always did, remaining flat on her back, staring at your ceiling.

Instead, she turned over to face you, only a few inches of space were left in between your faces as she whispered to you, "Why didn't you kiss him?"

Her question shocked you. The two of you rarely visited the topic of romantic relationships or feelings of the sort, and both of you agreed that you weren't interested in the thought as of right now.

"I," you paused. You had never officially come out to Paige, afraid that once she knew you liked girls, your every move would be scrutinized and judged, and your relationship would never be the same. But surely, you insisted internally, Paige wasn't going to be like that.

"I wasn't really interested in the thought of kissing a guy," You quietly admitted, rolling back over onto your back to avoid her gaze.

"Oh." That was it? You basically just came out to her and that's all you got?

"Would you ever kiss a guy? Or just," she paused, the hesitation clear in her voice. "Just girls?"

"No I would kiss both, I just don't think I want my first kiss to be with one? Or at least not Jeremy," you confessed quietly, turning your head back over to look at her. She was staring intently at you, scanning your face.

"Who would you want your first kiss to be with?"

"I don't know, but at least with someone I'm close to. Have you ever," you waited a moment before finishing your sentence, taking a deep breath in between your words.

"Have you ever thought about kissing girls? Or a girl?" You whispered, watching her slightly panicked reaction.

"A few times, but I've never kissed anyone either, so I don't know," Her eyes darted in between your eyes and down to your lips. "What if you kiss me? Just so we can both have our first kisses with someone we know," in retrospect, you should've thought harder before agreeing to kiss your previously assumed straight best friend. But her offer set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, your cheeks flushed deeply as you nodded.

You shuffled closer to her in bed, such that there was barely an inch of space separating your lips. "Are you sure about this?" You whispered, staring down at her lips while reaching your hand to cup her jaw, the other arm bent at the elbow to support your body above hers.

"Yeah," she nodded, looking down at your own lips, slightly moving in until your lips grazed against hers. You pressed your lips a little firmer into hers, slanting your head further as your lips barely opened. She moved in tandem with you, her hand resting at the nape of your neck as she kissed you back.

Your kiss only lasted a few moments, pulling back the second you registered the taste of alcohol still prominent in her mouth. You realized it was possible that the only reason your best friend asked you to kiss her was because she was drunk, sixteen, and very single.

"This isn't gonna be weird tomorrow is it?" Your brows furrowed as a worried expression settled into your face.

"No, why would it? Friends can kiss, besides we just won't make it weird," she promised. And despite knowing it was a stupid idea, an even stupider statement, you agreed. Collapsing down back onto your pillow, you opened your arms for Paige to snuggle into you, and the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

February 3rd, 2018 (sophomore year; 16 years old)

Paige's POV:

It was a relief to finally find a quiet moment to myself, even if it was at three in the morning in the middle of my living room couch. Everyone in my house was asleep, including Jenna, who was still snoring when I extracted myself from her arms. The ac vent aimed straight at me caused me to pull the blanket tighter into my body, despite the pajama pants I was wearing and one of Jenna's hoodies.

We were almost done with basketball season and were currently playing our conference games, and were thankfully on a streak. And yet, the pressure inside of me continued to build, the need to be perfect and to support and carry my team throughout our games constantly weighing down on me.

Of course my teammates, coaches, family, and my other friends were supportive of me and encouraged me to try my best, and that no one expected perfection of me. But for whatever reason, I couldn't get rid of the anxiety that was constantly taking over my brain, sending me into spiraling panics over my future and my performance.

But throughout the past few months, the only person I felt like I could truly breathe around was Jenna, my lifeline. Despite not being involved in basketball in any way, she understood me and what I was feeling. She confided in me about her having chronic anxiety (GAD) the first time I slept over at her house, when I saw her medication on the dinner table.

She taught me breathing exercises and calming methods, held and comforted me when I cried in the middle of the night from the constant mental pressure, and even told me that I should slide around my initial charm on our matching necklace since it was a better nervous habit than biting my nails.

Even besides that, her presence in itself was a comfort to me, even if I wasn't yet sure of how deep my feelings for her went. She was the first friend I ever said "I love you" too, and I think the same goes for her. And it is true, I do love her with my whole heart, I would do anything she asked or needed of me, I just wasn't sure to what extent this love went.

Along with that, I was still unsure of where I stood with my sexuality. Before Jenna, I never thought about girls in a more than platonic way, but from the first few months of getting to know her, to our first kiss together (still the only time I've ever kissed anybody), to even now, where she was cuddled into my chest a mere thirty minutes ago, I felt electrifying sparks course through my body at her touch, she could make me blush with the most innocent of looks, and she made me giddy in a way even basketball didn't.

But despite all that, it's normal for best friends to love each other? It doesn't automatically mean being gay or being in love, you could just deeply care for the other person. Besides, Jenna never brought up the kiss again, which meant it had probably only happened due to both of our inebriated states.

It was as if my deep train of thought about her cause her to miraculously appear, I knew it was her just from the footsteps upstairs, the way she gently walked down the stairs to avoid a creaky step, and the way her sock-covered feet padded over to the couch, grabbing a throw blanket for herself before taking a seat in the corner end of the couch next as me.

We sat in silence as she reached over to the side of the couch, pushing the button to recline the seat back, unfolding the blanket and covering her bottom half before patting her lap for me once she was fully adjusted.

I all but threw my head into her lap, facing her body, as I extended my legs out onto the rest of the sofa as I moved my arms up hug the tops of her legs as her hands came up to gently scratch at my scalp, playing with my hair in a way that immediately relaxed me into her.

"M'sorry if I woke you," I whispered into her stomach, even though I wasn't actually sorry. I was selfishly happy that she came downstairs for me and would give up anything for us to have more of these quiet moments together, her attention solely focused on me.

"S'okay P, you technically didn't. I felt the bed was empty and then my spidey senses told me you were thinking too hard again, so I came to convince you to come back to bed, but then this beautiful couch looked way too comfortable, so we can just spend the night here," she sleepily mumbled, looking down at me sprawled out onto her lap.

"Tell me who or what is stealing our sleep so I can beat their asses," she joked quietly, her hands coming to rub at my temples.

I sighed, it felt as if her hands were physically melting the pounding in my skull, my headache nearly subsiding just from her touch.

"Just stressed out about everything again y'know? Basketball, school, life, kind of everything," I admitted quietly. The one thing I hated doing, was talking about things that bothered or upset me, it always made me feel weak.

"Hey, we are all so proud of you P. We all know how hard you're working and even though you feel like it, I promise that it's not all up to you. All the people around you love you, and we're all here to help if you need it. You just say the word and we'll all line up for whatever you need," she reassured me, only slightly teasing as her fingers moved to pinch my cheek lightly before moving back to my hair.

"Yeah I know, God really blessed me with you guys. Especially you, I don't know what I would do without you," I murmured up at her, smiling at her sleepy but happy expression.

"Yeah yeah, just say you love me Paige," she poked fun at me quietly, letting her head drop onto the cushion behind her without breaking eye contact with me.

"Hey I do love you J, I say it all the time," I retorted, using my fingers to draw small shapes on her pajama-covered thighs.

"Well I love you too P," her hands smoothed over my hair as she bent down to press a kiss on my hairline before reaching back up to settle into the couch.

"Just trust me, you just need to do all you can so God can do all you can't," she muttered, closing her eyes as she leaned her head slightly onto her shoulder to get comfortable, all without stilling her hands' movements in my scalp.

"Hey that's a sick quote, I'm stealing that from you for my interviews," I teased groggily, the lack of sleep slowly overcoming my voice.

"You can have anything you want from me P, you already know that," she didn't open her eyes when she said that, but I could hear the sincerity in her tone even without looking at her.

The two of us slept the whole night in the exact same position, unaware of everyone waking up to us cuddling on the couch together. My eyes only fluttered open at the sound of quieted laughter and the shuttering of two cameras pointed at the two of us.

As I rolled my head out of Jenna's lap to look at whoever had caused the disturbance, I squinted my eyes to see my dad with his polaroid and Drew using someone's phone. I groaned, burying myself back into Jenna, I probably would never hear the end of this, but it was alright, because it was with Jenna.

July 4th, 2018 (summer before junior year; 16 years old)

Jenna's POV:

"Jenna you need to slow down, I don't want you to throw up or anything," Paige insisted as she walked up to you, pulling you away from the living room of the house party you were in, preventing you from throwing back another shot. The party was hosted by a senior at the end of your neighborhood, just walking distance from both of your houses.

"What's your problem P, I'm just having fun," you argued back, doing your best to enunciate your words to prevent having a slur, knowing she would cut you off immediately if you got too drunk. You were pretty good at holding your liquor, somehow being a natural heavy-weight when it came to drinking.

"Come on Paigey, just lighten up a little, it's the fourth of fucking July, have fun with me. Ooo, we should do a shot together," you elbowed her side jokingly, looking up at her hesitant expression with your best puppy dog eyes.

Her concerned expression softened, you knew it was wrong of you to take advantage of the fact she could never say no to you, but she was the reason you were adamant on drinking to the point of memory loss tonight.

As shameful as it felt to admit it, your best friend had been haunting your every waking moment for the last few months, and you were desperate for an escape from your own thoughts. You always knew you felt something deeper than friendship for Paige, the way your heartbeat would speed up at every touch of her hands, the way you found yourself unable to tear your eyes off of her, on and off the court, and especially, the way you could not escape the mental replay of your kiss.

The press of her soft lips against yours, the slight vanilla taste from her chapstick you so often borrowed, the way the skin of her jaw felt so soft in the palm of your hand, and the way your body melted into hers, pressed against her warm figure.

So, like any reasonable sixteen year old, you were determined to get absolutely shit-faced tonight, to the point where you wouldn't even be able to remember your own name. And the only way that would happen, is if Paige stopped monitoring your every sip of alcohol.

"Okay fine, one shot, but that's it. We can't both be super drunk," She relented, allowing you to pull her back into the kitchen to pour yourself shots.

And just to your luck, Paige had run into a few friends and teammates, leaving you alone with a few class friends for what she intended to be only a few minutes, but ended up being a little over half an hour. Those thirty ish minutes were all you needed to take two more shots, chug one whiteclaw and two beers, and finish a cup of a vodka sprite.

By the time Paige came back, still mostly sober, she was pissed to see that you were plastered, hanging off the shoulder of some guy she could recognize, but was too mad to focus on. She couldn't figure out why you were drinking so much tonight, despite her warning, you were practically making yourself sick for the next day, and you wouldn't even tell her the reason you had been off lately, brushing it off with some bullshitted excuse of school or your parents.

"Yo, who's the blonde chick staring at you?" The random guy you were talking to asked, nodding his head towards Paige, who was leaned against one of the kitchen counters and boring holes into the guy's head.

"Paigeyyy," you called out, lifting your now very heavy head from his shoulder as he pointed out your best friend who was now within eyeline, a deeply annoyed expression settled into her otherwise soft features.

"Hey me and Jenna are gonna head out, it's already past two and she's clearly done drinking for tonight," Paige announced to the group of friends you were hanging out with as she moved towards you, gently guiding your arm over shoulder and pulling you away from the other guy.

"Hey she's fine," the guy you were previously all over slightly slurred, "What are you her babysitter or somethin?"

"Dude worry about yourself, you look like you’re two seconds away from passing out," she snapped at him before walking away, supporting around half of your weight as the two of you exited the house.

"You're always so good to me Paigey, always my taking care of me," you drunkenly mumbled into her shoulder, pressing yourself further into her in an attempt to warm yourself up with her body heat. The summer night in Minnesota wasn't too bad, but your lack of a jacket wasn't helping.

"We'll reach your house in like five minutes, you just gotta walk till there okay?" She spoke firmly, avoiding glancing down at your slouched figure attached to her.

"You're always my best girl," you continued your drunken ramble.

"Always there fo' me, you cuddle me and you kiss me, and you even walk me home," for some selfish reason, she didn't have it in her to stop you. She knew it wasn't fair to you, letting you pour your innermost thoughts or feelings out to her when you weren't in the right state of mind, but she couldn't bear to stop the compliments gushing from your mouth.

"No need to date anyone in the whole wide world when I have you. You're so much nicer than the other girls. Or boys. And prettier. You're the prettiest out of all of them. So pretty, even when you're all sweaty and gross in basketball. You even kiss nice, don't wanna kiss anyone else after you kissed me," she finally cut your mindless babble into her neck off.

"We're here, I need your keys," her voice was curt, almost like she didn't want to be with you anymore. You lifted your head out of the crook of her neck to fumble around the pockets of your jeans, finally pulling out your lanyard and holding it out for her.

She took it from your grasp quickly, unlocking your house and helping you in to take both of your shoes off and lead you up into your bathroom, sitting you on the closed toilet as she went into your room to grab a change of clothes for you.

You leaned your head back in the two minutes she had left, closing your eyes and barely drifting off when she re-entered the bathroom, waking you up so she could help you change and take off your makeup.

It wasn't until you were sitting against the headboard of your bed, watching her move around your room to collect stray clothes from the floor into your hamper that the two of you finally spoke again.

"Paigey are you mad at me?" the nickname slipped from your mouth once again as you questioned her quietly. Paigey was something that usually only Drew called her regularly, but for some reason it was the only thing you referred to her as when drunk.

"Yes Jenna, is that what you wanna hear? That I'm fucking pissed off at you? You've been acting weird for the last like, two months. And no matter how much I try, you won't open up to me, it's frustrating me," she exclaimed pausing her movements around the room to rant to you despite her better judgement telling her she shouldn't talk to you about this while you're drunk.

"And then tonight you're all over some random douche, pretending like everything is fine when you know it's not. Then you start spewing that bullshit about me I know you don't mean because you're drunk."

You stayed silent for a few moments before you responded, "'M sorry, I shouldn't have shut you out for something you didn't do. But saying I don't mean what I said? That's not fair and you know it."

"Stop it Jenna, I think that you should just go to sleep. You're so drunk, you're not even coherent anymore, and I don't want to have this conversation with you like this,"

"What if I just wanna tell you how pretty you are, or how nice you kiss? Or that I love-"

"Stop Jenna, please just stop," Paige shut her eyes, her voice sounding nearly painful.

"Please J, you're drunk and you don't mean it. You can't say things like that and not mean it to me, I can't take it," she begged.

"If I say it to you tomorrow will you believe me?" you whispered, hesitating before continuing.

"If I tell you I love you tomorrow, will you say it back? Will you mean it the same way I mean it?" you pleaded with her, desperate to hear that she felt the same way you did, that you weren’t the only idiot who had fallen in love with her best friend.

"I'm gonna sleep on the couch," she muttered, walking out of your room and closing the door behind her. You could feel your heart sinking, the tears burning in your eyes, threatening to pour out at the smallest movement.

You stare at the door for a few minutes, praying that Paige would change her mind, burst back in and say that she did love you too, that you weren’t alone. She would pull you into her, kiss you stupid, and cuddle you for the rest of the night.

But she didn't and you eventually cried yourself into an uncomfortable sleep, tossing and turning the whole night.

***the next morning***

Your eyes fluttered open from the sunlight beaming through my half-closed curtains. Your head was pounding, threatening to split in half as you turned over, burying yourself into the pillow underneath your comforter.

You tried my best to recall what had happened last night that left you nearly dead the next morning. As you fought to focus despite a dry throat, aching body, and throbbing head, a specific moment came pouring back.

There was no fucking way.

You told Paige, presumably straight Paige, your best friend ever Paige, that you loved her. You had gone on a whole fucking tangent about how pretty she was, how nobody could compare, and the fact that you loved her.

You shot up in bed, fighting every painful twinge in your body to reach for your phone, when you saw a water bottle with two advils on your nightstand. You quickly chugged them as you reached for your phone, unplugging it from the charger. That was something you had most definitely not remembered to do last night.

At 7:21 in the morning there was only one text from Paige.

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

Peanut Butter 💜: Hey, my step-mom called me over to help her clean some stuff up. You went pretty hard last night so I left some water and painkillers for you, make sure you take them and eat breakfast. I'll see you later yeah?

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

Fuck, did she not remember what had happened last night? No, that wasn't possible, she barely drank. Did she want to pretend like it never happened? Was it because she didn't feel the same about you? As it was, she didn't allow you to finish saying you were in love with her, and it wasn't like she said it back. Was she trying to avoid ruining your friendship?

She had texted you almost three hours ago, which meant your parents had to already be back from their night shift and everyone in her house was probably awake.

You threw your phone out onto your bed, slamming yourself back down and under your covers.

What were your options here? Either pretend like it never happened and continue hopelessly pining after your best friend, confess your feelings only to get rejected and ruin your friendship, or the least likely of them all.

You told her and she felt the same.

You thought long and hard about what to do. As much as it would hurt to only be something, continuing to hide your feelings, it would be worse to be nothing to her, right?

But if it had slipped out of you once, wasn't there the chance it could happen again? What if it was even worse the next time, what if it was in public and everyone ended up finding out.

It would be better to own up to the truth now, right? Right? Right, you decided.

You finally mustered up the courage to leave the safe haven of your bed. dragging yourself to the bathroom to freshen up (ESPECIALLY BRUSHING YOUR TEETH) before quietly exiting your house, walking across the street to hers.

You knocked on the door firmly, knowing the Bueckers weren't the biggest fans of using the doorbell.

"Jenna," Drew exclaimed as he opened the door for you, allowing you into the house you had quickly claimed as your second home.

"What's up little man," you greeted him while taking off your slippers, "Where's your sister?" You asked him.

You had made it a habit to call Paige, Drew's sister, when talking to him. You felt bad that people always mentioned him as Paige's little brother instead of taking two seconds to learn his name, so you always made the effort to make sure he felt seen.

"She's in her room, she said she was feeling weird when she came home and she won't leave her room," he told you.

Shit, that meant she did remember what had happened. Well, it was now or never.

"Thanks Drew, Hi Mrs. Bueckers," you waved to her in the kitchen as you made your way to the stairs, bounding up two at a time to reach Paige's room faster. Her door was shut when you reached, and you knocked lightly on the wood.

"Hey P, it's me," you called out through the closed door, waiting to hear her mumbled, come in, before turning the knob. She was laying down in her bed, putting her phone down as she looked up at you.

"How you feeling Jelly? You drank a lot last night," she asked quietly, her hands fiddling with the top of her comforter, something you knew she did when she was nervous.

"Not that bad," you moved to sit down next to her lying figure, gazing down at her exhausted face. You could tell she hadn't slept well last night either, surely from your intoxicated confession.

"Listen, I know I was really stupid last night, but what we were talking about in my room," Paige cut you off before you could finish.

"Hey it's fine, I get it. You were really drunk and you get kind of emotional at that stage, so it's not even a big deal-"

"Oh my god Paige will you let me even speak? I meant what I said last night," you interrupted. There was no way you would allow her to brush this under the rug the same way you let her pretend your kiss had never happened.

"You're not just my best friend, you're my everything. You mean the literal world to me, there's barely anything I wouldn't do for you, because I'm in love with you. I have been for a reallly really long time now, that's why I was trying to keep my distance. It hurt, being around you and pretending like my heart wasn't going to explode at nearly everything you said or did with me," you professed, watching her expression morph from faked nonchalance to shock, and slowly, a small smile broke out.

"You, you love me love me? Like, you're in love with me? In a more than friends way?" She sat up to face you fully as she questioned you, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she waited for your response.

"No shit Sherlock Holmes, it's almost like I said it like four times now, and you're still not-" she didn't let you finish your exasperated sentence before pulling you into her, pressing your lips firmly into hers.

You closed your eyes as you sighed into the minty kiss, melting into her hold as she moved her lips against you slowly, the rest of the world faded away as the two of you found peace in each other's embrace.

"You know you still haven't told me you love me back," you mumbled against her lips as the two of you separated a minute later, a wide grin stretched out across your face.

"No shit I love you too Sherlock Holmes," she teased, using the nickname you had come up with against you. "Have been for a while now, glad you finally noticed," she pulled you into her as she flopped down to lie down on her side, facing you.

The two of you continued to exchange light pecks and languid kisses, reveling in the comfort of your intertwined bodies in Paige's warm bed.

"Does this mean we're dating?" Paige pulled back to watch your face as she asked.

"Yeah P, this means you're my girlfriend now. Just mine, kay?" You beamed, caressing her cheek with your thumb.

"Got it, as long as you're only mine J."

December 23rd, 2019 (Winter Break, senior year; 18 years old)

Paige’s POV:

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Jenna giggled at my response, her laughter rumbling her body against mine. She was currently sprawled over my body in tiny pajama shorts and a cropped tank top, her head laying on my chest as she wrote random words onto my left arm for me to guess, my other hand wrapped tightly over her waist, eliminating any space that may have been between us.

Jenna had finally finished all of her college applications and we both took our winter finals two weeks prior, leaving us to peacefully enjoy our Christmas and New Years together.

We had already been dating for over a year now, and if I wasn't completely and irrevocably head over heels for Jenna Smyths before, I most definitely was now. The two of us were already inseparable even before we started dating, but since last July it was almost like we couldn't spend go more than twenty-four hours apart, which our families had slowly started picking up on.

We never really told my family that we were dating, just slowly started leaving hints here and there. Spending more time together, being more cuddly or touchy with the other person (all pg of course), and we went to our most recent school dances together, as friends, but still.

Even at school or in public, we basically acted the same as we always did, and despite the rumors running rampant in the many gossip circles, no one had any evidence to prove any allegation, and when prompted, we always gave the same answer, "She's my best friend".

But with Jenna's family on the other hand, only her mom knew after a really awkward walking-in incident. It wasn't too bad, it just so happened that one night when I was sleeping over at her house in March, we were innocently making out in her bed, as any seventeen year-old couple did, when her mom walked in to tell us that we were going out for breakfast the next morning. We quickly separated, but not fast enough to evade her mom.

Needless to say, the two of us had to endure a very, very embarrassing conversation of being safe and responsible together, and the only reason she didn't rat us out to Jenna's dad or my family to stop our sleepovers was the fact that neither of us could get pregnant from anything we may or may not do.

Unfortunately, our "separation anxiety problem" proved to be quite the difficult challenge when I had to leave for the team USA basketball games and Jenna went on college tours with her parents. The two of us managed to get by through near constant texting and nightly FaceTime calls, which I've accepted may be the norm for our relationship in the future.

I already committed to UConn back in April, but Jenna still hasn't decided where she wants to go. She's applied sort of everywhere, California, Washington, Michigan, Minnesota, Pennsylvania, New York, and of course, Connecticut. She hasn't told me what her top pick is out of all of her applications, but I had a feeling she was refraining from telling me because it was going to be one of the furthest ones from UConn.

I didn't mind having to do long distance, as hard as it would be, I would take that struggle over losing Jenna any day. But there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of my mind that Jenna didn't agree, that she would rather break up than have to deal with long distance.

But that couldn't happen to us, we were Paige and Jenna, Peanut Butter and Jelly, and there was no way that we would break up because of college. I mean sure, we had real arguments every once in awhile, one of us got a little jealous, or we were tired or annoyed and accidentally took it out on the other person. But those never lasted long, both of us being too weak to remain mad at the other for more than a day.

One of the biggest arguments we had was over one of my newest and closest friends, Azzi Fudd. We met through team USA and got really close really quickly, which Jenna wasn't the fondest of. We never talked about her until I had gotten back, and Jenna finally burst when I paused our conversation to text Azzi back.

It wasn't until after I assured Jenna that Azzi was straight and was definitely not interested in me in anyway since she had a crush on a boy at her school, that she was my girlfriend and the only one I had eyes for, and she met Azzi in person for the first time that she understood just how platonic our friendship was and also formed a connection with the younger girl.

To be fair, Jenna wasn't the only one with slight jealousy issues, or as she called it, me being "territorial", which I wholeheartedly disagree with. I just think that some of the guys and girls she's friends with don't need to be all over her all the time, but Jenna was just a naturally affectionate person who made everyone around her feel loved and seen, and I understood that doesn't necessarily mean in a romantic way.

Which is all to say that despite any minor bumps in the road, our relationship was as steady and strong as ever, and there was no where else in the world I would rather be right now than in bed with Jenna's body covering mine.

"I wrote bball doofus, okay there's no way you don't get this next one," she remarked teasingly. I pinched her side as she stifled her laughter, adjusting herself over me before going to write her next phrase on my bicep. I was wearing a similar tank top to hers, but with warmer, full length pajama pants. Jenna always refused to admit when she was feeling cold, which was always, instead choosing to intertwine her legs with mine, absorbing any body heat radiating off of me.

I closed my eyes and focused on her fingers fluttering over my arm, concentrating on the words she attempted to spell out. It was a phrase so familiar to us at this point I had figured it out before she had even gotten to the last word.

I smiled down at her, watching as she moved her gaze from her writing to my face, a wide grin and blush present on her features.

"I love you," I whispered to her, admiring at the way her cheeks flushed deeper at my statement. She never used to be the type of person who got easily flustered or shied away from a challenge, but when it came down to the sweetest moments like this, her body was almost constantly some shade of red or pink.

Jenna wasn't the most openly affectionate person, she often got shy when it came to dates, romantic gesture, even verbally expressing her feelings. But by driving me around all the time when I didn't have my car or even my license, helping me with homework last minute, doing my hair for games, cooking and baking food for me, and remembering the smallest details about me, she showed me how much she loved me, and that was always enough for me.

"I love you too," she whispered back, resting her chin on my chest as she continued to gaze up at me, deep adoration present in her eyes, and without a doubt, I was sure I was looking back at her with either the same or deeper level of infatuation. I moved my hand around her waist to draw small circles on the sliver of skin that was exposed, relishing in the sweet intimacy.

Moments like this were my favorite, relishing in the presence of one of my favorite people on earth, quiet and at peace with no distractions, just the two of us enjoying our time spent together.

"Wait I wanna switch, it's your turn to be the big spoon," I patted her waist to guide her to flip over onto her back, so I could lay my head down on her this time.

One of the things I loved to do with Jenna was listen to her heartbeat, it was the beat of a song I would never know the name of, but it was my favorite. To me, it proved the tangibility of the connection between our souls, the love we held for each other. It was listening to the sound that kept my life force breathing, that allowed me to keep my rock and anchor, the person I loved the most and showed me that everyday was worth living, no matter what, because it was with her.

May 22nd, 2020 (End of Senior Year; 18 years old)

My heart sank at the silence I received from Paige, she was sitting across from me on my bed and kept switching from quietly scanning over the letter on my computer screen to changing the tabs, looking over all the schools I had received acceptance letters from.

Despite getting into UConn with Paige, and even universities close to her on the East Coast, like NYU and UPenn, I was choosing to commit to UCLA, my dream school since I was seven. It was safe to say Paige wasn't thrilled with my decision, evident through her lack of a response.

"P? Please say something, literally anything," I begged, her silence was unsettling, and her face was stoic and near emotionless, which meant I had no idea of the thoughts running through her head right now.

"I don't even know what you want me to say. Or expect me to do," she paused before continuing, "I am so proud of you and everything you've done and accomplished to make it this far, but I feel so," she stopped, collecting her thoughts and emotions before continuing.

"I almost want to hate you for choosing to go so far, for choosing to leave me and be so far away from me when we both know this kind of long-distance won't work," her voice cracked, at the end of her sentence. Rather than continuing to talk, she raised the collar of her t-shirt to her eyes, tucking her head under to hide the tears that had begun to spill out.

You moved your laptop away so could close some of the distance between the two of you. You gently cupped her face, coaxing her to let go of her t-shirt so you could look directly in her eyes.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but I can't not go Paige. I need to do this for myself and I know that if I don't go, or at least give it my best shot, I'll regret it for the rest of my life," her heartbroken expression was painful for you to watch, only making it harder for you to refrain from crying.

"If I asked you to even consider, not even coming to UConn with me but like, NYU or something, literally anywhere closer to make the long distance work, would you?" Her eyes bore into yours, searching for the answer she dreaded hearing.

You waited a moment to answer, not to think over your answer or consider her question, you already knew the answer. But to compose yourself, holding in the pain you felt from hurting the only person who would ever love you like this.

You dropped your hands from her face before responding, "No."

You could see, practically hear, her heart shatter at your response, not expecting you to be so cold and short with her. She was openly crying now, her voice now shaky and slightly higher-pitched.

"So all the times that you told me that you couldn't imagine living without me, that you needed me, that you felt like you could only breathe around me, that was all bullshit? Or you just, what, changed your mind?"

"I never lied to you about that Paige, all of those things are still true. But this is my dream, I obviously didn't go into this whole process expecting to get into one of the top universities in the nation. If I asked you the same thing right now, to give up UConn and accept one of the recruitment offers you got closer to UCLA, would you?"

"Don't turn this around on me and make me the selfish one right now. That's not fair and you know it Jenna. Getting recruited is different, it determines whether or not I can go pro in the future, it makes all the difference in the world when it comes time for me to get drafted in the W."

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything Paige, I'm just trying to make you understand that I can't give up UCLA. And selfish, really? Trying to make a life for myself, going to the college of my dreams, that's selfish?"

"That's not what I meant," she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tear-streaked face.

"You have to understand what it feels like to be in my position right now. You're my everything, my best friend, my girlfriend, the one person who knows me better than anyone, even my parents. And you just dropped a bomb of information on me. From day one, I have always been clear about where I wanted to go to college, and I signed as soon as I got the offer. But you never said anything about that, and on top of it, you were always the one who talked about our future together, and now it's like you're taking all of your previous statement back."

"I'm sorry Paige. I'm so sorry that I'm doing this to you, that I'm hurting you. That was never my intention with this. You're my everything too, but that's not right and that's not how it should be. One person can't be my whole life, and I can't be yours either. No matter how much I love you and need you, I also need this for myself."

Paige's eyes were bloodshot at this point, and you hadn't noticed when, but somewhere during your conversation you had given up on trying to hold back your own tears.

"I've already submitted a housing application, the apartments open from June but usually students don't go until July or August, so I'll still be here for a little while," you sniffled.

As much as your decision hurt Paige, you knew it was the right thing for both of you. Paige had to focus on basketball and you needed to focus on school and your own future, and maybe the time apart would allow you to grow together rather than apart.

After all, isn't distance supposed to make the heart grow fonder?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, any and all support is greatly appreciated!!

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

[twstfanblog]

What is your Yuu's relationship with everyone in the brothel au?

Oh LORD this is gonna be a long one. More under the cut XD Sorry this took me so long to get out!

Riddle- Felt really bad for him when he first entered the brothel because he was basically squatting with Trey to escape his overbearing mother. As of now, She and him look over the brothel's fiance records together since Riddle is educated and Crewel trusts him with the files. She teases him about Floyd clearly planning on marrying him and what kind of ring he wants (If he ever answered, she'd tell Floyd immediately).

Trey- Big Brother #1. She met Trey when she was a child and got lost in the city. Spent a few days with him and his family so she was elated when she found out he started work in the brothel. Very fond of Trey and does her best to not make his job too stressful for him (as she ropes his two fastest food runners into her side hustle and puts the kitchen behind on orders).

Cater- Has only met Cater a handful of times since he is a child of a noble family. But since he and Idia use the brothel as neutral ground to meet up, they have crossed paths. They are positively neutral to each other. Cater is embarrassed that he opened up one day on the issues he and Idia are facing and she fucking gushed about how he was literally living a romance novel plot. She now teases everytime they meet up if anything 'plot relevant' happened.

Ace- Partner in crime #1. Yuu has a side hustle of ripping customers off who try to purchase her for a night even though she's not an entertainer. Ace was the first one to join her and they've managed to rope Deuce into it too. Was honestly surprised that Ace knew how to do complex math when he told her he could.

Deuce- Partner in crime #2. Deuce doesn't really know how to treat Yuu since they were friends before he learned she was Crewel's child. So he'll speak normally to her than trip up and become very respectful until Yuu tells him to stop it. Finds it really sweet that Deuce sends 2/3 of his paycheck home to his mom and grandma.

Leona- Honestly, deeply impressed that he's managed to become the second most popular entertainer with having done NO WORK. They hang out every now and again, which is how Yuu learns before anyone that Leona has a FORMAL education which is something only noble children have access to.

Ruggie- Calls him a rat. Actually thought he was someone trying to sneak into the brothel without paying and knocked him off the fence with a very good throw and a shoe. Once Leona got her up to speed on who Ruggie was she just calls him 'Leona's Rat Boyfriend'. Has asked him if he wants a job in the brothel but Ruggie doesn't trust Crewel to not make it a life long contract without him knowing.

Jack- Jack only comes to the brothel to visit Epel on his week off from his guardsman job. She's watching the first-year poly all circle around each other, not realizing that they all like each other, and she isn't gonna tell them because its too funny to watch them.

Azul- Has been tormenting this boy since they were mid-teens. Azul confused her for an entertainer and just word-vomited about how he could take care of her and that he'd make sure she was the most gorgeous bride. Since then Yuu teases how and when Azul is planning on proposing to take her away from her life of toil and strife. She does like Azul and if he DID ask for her hand in marriage, she'd fuss at Crewel to actually think it over instead of rejecting the request without hesitation.

Jade- Cousin #1! Since the twin's mom was a former entertainer and one of Crewel's good friends, the twins visited the brothel a lot growing up. Once baby Yuu came around, she was like a permanent playmate for the twins. They affectionatly call each other cousins.

Floyd- Cousin #2! Too silly guys that Jade had to watch while their parents were talking. Now Floyd whines at Yuu about what kinda present he should get Riddle as a sorry for fucking him so hard he dislocated his hips.

Kalim- Depending on the part of the AU, Yuu hasnt met Kalim and has no idea who he is. But when he manages to find Jamil, they end up pretty close. Yuu unknowingly makes Kalim 200% more annoying by jokingly calling Kalim her 'future brother-in-law'. Kalim now keeps asking Jamil when their wedding is and if he can help plan it

Jamil- Yuu is so down bad for this man that it's looped all the way back into pure rizz and Jamil isn't sure how the fuck it's WORKING. Yuu got Jamil the entertainer job, convincing Crewel to not kick out the very clearly shady traveler with shifty eyes. Jamil is very fond of Yuu because she's been nothing but helpful to him even when he didn't fully realize it. This is an internal back-and-forth for him since his goal is to leave the city and create more distance between him and Kalim, but he does find himself wanting to either stay in the brothel and further what he and Yuu have going on OR make a new plan where he absconds with Yuu.

Vil- Annoying little sibling to Annoying older brother. Vil was what Yuu would call an ugly duckling of an entertainer. He fumbled for the longest time before Crewel finally took Vil under his wing and helped him fully accept his new role in life. So she did make fun of Vil a lot in the beginning of their relationship. But then Yuu realizes that Vil knows how to read and since he IS getting better at his job, Yuu gifts him some old books she wasn't interested in anymore. Only to ALSO find out Vil used to be an actor and he's missed it, so he'll do dramatic reenactments of scenes from the books and they bond. Vil actually takes Yuu with him to an afternoon theater show every time there's a free day in the brothel.

Rook- Actually hated him for a while because she was sure that Rook was going to buy Vil out of the brothel with how much he booked him. She's scared that if Vil left she'd never see him again and mainly focus that negative fear on Rook. Rook took it in stride seeing Yuu as Vil's younger sister who just wanted to keep her brother close. So he works to endear himself to Yuu in the time he has prepping for his sessions with Vil. Yuu got random little gifts from Rook as 'Tokens of affection' until Yuu finally yielded and stopped being outwardly hateful of Rook. As of now, they are on fond terms and tease Vil about how he has such a 'passionate future husband'.

Epel- Chaos Twin. Actually really happy when Epel requested to become an entertainer, because now she has someone actually on the roster to help with her scheme of ripping the customers off. Epel hasn't officially made his debut as an entertainer, but he's got two lesson plans; the one Vil made for him on how to do the job properly and the one Yuu made for him on how to sweet talk his clients into spending more money on him.

Idia- Doesn't know much about each other since Idia is pretty good at sneaking into the brothel to meet Cater. She does meet Idia randomly sometimes when he leaves he and Cater's room. Idia does ask Yuu if he's making the right choice in NOT continuing his and Cater's relationship into the public and just going through with the arranged marriage his family set up.

Ortho- Hasn't met Ortho. But Ortho makes a grand entrance to the brothel to tell his brother he is being DUMB and should just be with Cater instead of being miserable with someone he doesn't like.

Malleus- She met him when she was a child and thought he was so pretty that she exclaimed she was gonna marry him. Malleus thought it was really cute and agreed to her terms. But now, years later She hasn't seen Malleus in real life for some odd years. They mainly communicate through letters and it's mostly just Malleus info dumping about the newest sculptures he's seen. And the VERY RARE love letter that flusters Yuu to the point she has to shove her face into her pillows and scream.

Lilia- Fun Uncle Lilia! She jokingly states she's never seen him sober, since whenever he does visit Silver in the Brothel he at least drinks a bottle of wine before Malleus is taking him home. Lilia finds Yuu to be adorble and was very happy that Silver had someone around his age to grow up with while living in the brothel. (He is the reason Yuu tried wine as a two-year-old)

Silver- Even though they were basically raised together, they see each other as friend instead of siblings. Silver normally keeps to himself while Yuu has her nose is almost everyone's business. If the business is low and Yuu doesn't have any paperwork to do, she'll sit out in the garden and just watch Silver work. She talks enough for the both of them and things are nice and cozy between them.

Sebek- They still kinda hate each other. Sebek because he thinks Yuu is leading his Waka-Sama on. Yuu because she thinks Sebek is unfaithful since he slept with Epel when its very clear hes been trying to convince Silver to accept his marriage proposal and finally come back to the yokai woods with the other Diasomnia boys. After a while (and Sebek panicking that he really did ruin his chances with Silver) they talk and realize that Sebek is just poly and showing interest in the fucked up dynamic that the first-year poly is.

BONUS, THE TEACHERS

Crewel- PAPA ♡! Yuu adores her father and he loves her so much back. He's very protective of his baby and will ban and throw people out if he thinks they're ogling her. Knowingly turns a blind eye to her scamming cuatomers too stupid to read who is actually an entertainer from the book of names in the front room. Is the birth mother to Yuu, and she HAS ASKED who her dad is and Crewel has been dodging her question for the past near two decades.

Vargas- Uncle Vargas! Captain of the city guard and old friend of Crewel. He visits on and off during his week off every month, normally to just have a drink with Crewel. But sometimes he'll wrangle the entertainers into running a lap around the brothel just to check they're all 'healthy'. He has taught Yuu self-defense, and that's only because he didn't know what else to do to entertain a toddler. (Possibly Yuu's father)

Sam- MR. SAM!!! Sam is the fun family friend who visits every season to do trade in the city and deliver custom goods. He'd bring Yuu toys and snacks from different countries every season so she is very fond of Sam. Sam knows a lot more than he let's on about Jamil and Leona but doesn't say anything when they recognize him. If things in the city ever go south, Sam is the one who's ready to take Yuu and Crewel out of the city to safety. (Possibly Yuu's father)

Trein- GRANPA ♡! The tutor for the brothel that helps the workers who dont know reading and math learn. Was Crewel's personal tutor when Crewel was still a nobleman. He is disappointed that Crewel ran away from home became a whore in what he assumed was a 'tantrum'. He is proud of Crewel now, and even finds Yuu adorable when she was born. He is on the payroll as a tutor for basic education for the workers, but he gives Yuu and a few other entertainers History and Literature lessons if they show interest in the subject.

Crowley- Has only met Crowley in person a few times and it was when she a baby so she doesn't remember him at all. Was a business partner of the former brothel owner, he was fond of Crewel because of how intelligent he was. Fully claims Yuu as his child and sends Crewel letters asking about her. Crewel has no idea where this man is and he's pissed about it because Crowley dumped all his debts on Crewel after stating they were married. So Crowley is on the run outside of the city and Crewel is trying to lure him back in to be murdered face the music. (possibly Yuu's father)

[peakyswritings]

Meet the Ferrante Family

It’s incredible that in less than two weeks it’ll be a year has passed since I posted the first chapter of Heart, Body and Soul. Thank you so much for those who have stuck with me despite the slow updates🤍

Finally, I made a post with the face claims I found for the Ferrante family (although Nina doesn’t have one yet). Are most of them from the Godfather movies? Yes. Do I regret it? No. And note that a great number of aunts, uncles and cousins are missing, but I decided not to introduce them since they are not relevant to the story.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul.

NINA’S FAMILY

Vincenzo and Maria Ferrante

Pietro, Salvatore and Nina’s parents

Vincenzo Ferrante: he runs the Italian side of the business. He’s the oldest brother (older generation). Despite being a very traditional man, he has a soft spot for his daughter that leads him to give her a bit more freedom. In fact, Nina’s the only girl in her family who was allowed to finish school.

Maria Ferrante: she’s a conservative woman, very religious and apparently meek.

Her mother had spent her whole life convinced that all she was born to do was to take care of someone else, without ever being able to make a single decision for herself, or voice her thoughts, and that conviction was too deeply rooted inside her to be eradicated. (Excerpt from CH.6)

However, there’s more to her than she lets on.

Pietro and Salvatore Ferrante

Pietro Ferrante (on the left): he’s the oldest of the Ferrante siblings, and he’s expected to become the head of the Italian side of the family business after his father. He fought in the war and almost lost an arm in combat, and sometimes it still hurts. After the war, he built walls around him.

Pietro, the older one, had almost lost an arm in combat, and even though two years had passed, sometimes it still hurt. But in exchange for the arm, the war took something else away from him. There seemed to be nothing left of his once caring nature, and his innate attention for details had turned into a urge to have everything under control. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Salvatore Ferrante (on the right): he’s the middle child. He fought in the war and returned with a deep scar on his face.

As for Salvatore, the war had enhanced the restlessness that had always distinguished him. He was angry, easily triggered, spiteful. And now he had a deep scar which crossed the left side of his face, making his expression appear even more grim. (Excerpt from CH.5)

Nina Ferrante

Nina Ferrante: she’s the youngest child and only daughter. Her fiery nature and unusual views make her a bit of an outcast in her family. She’s believed to be a witch by many of her cousins and other girls from the village. She rather enjoys the rumours.

There was nothing soft about Nina. She was all sharp edges and searing looks. […] She was outspoken, and defensive, and angry. Angry at her family, whose judgmental stare burned on her skin. Angry at her mother, who had wanted her different since the moment she had drawn her first breath. Angry at her father, who still treated her like a little girl who knew nothing of the word. Angry at Tommy Shelby, who thought he could just barge in and state some claim over one of them. (Excerpt from CH.2)

However, behind the mask, she’s extremely sensitive, and feels everything deeply.

Winston

Winston: Nina found him when he was just a kitten, and took him in without a second thought. He’s a little shit, just like his owner.

AGNESE’S FAMILY

Mario and Rita Ferrante

Agnese, Rosa and Sofia’s parents

Mario Ferrante: he’s the youngest among the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the Italian side of the business alongside Vincenzo.

Rita Ferrante: she’s Agnese’s mother, and has a love-hate relationship with Maria Ferrante. They care about each other in their own way, but are stuck in an endless competition.

Agnese Ferrante

Agnese Ferrante: she’s Nina’s cousin, and the one Tommy is expected to marry. She’s considered the most beautiful girl in the village, she’s soft and kind and probably the only one of Nina’s cousins who doesn’t ostracise her. Being the oldest child, she feels responsible for her sisters. She knows she needs to get married, cause she has no brothers and if something were to happen to her father, which is likely, considering the family’s line of work, they’d have no protection. Of course their uncles would take care of them, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Rosa and Sofia Ferrante

Rosa Ferrante (on the left): she’s the middle child.

Sofia Ferrante (on the right): she’s the youngest child.

OTHERS

Antonio Ferrante

Antonio Ferrante: he’s the middle child of the Ferrante brothers (older generation) and runs the English side of the business. He has two sons, Alfredo (the oldest) and Angelo (the youngest), who are expected to run the English side of the business after their father. Their mother passed during childbirth. No face claims for them yet.

THE SPINIETTA FAMILY

The Spinietta family is another Mafia family who operates both in Sicily and New York. There’s a delicate balance of power among the Spinietta family and the Ferrante family, and they’re struggling to keep the peace. Spinietta has two sons: Vito (the oldest) and Stefano (the youngest). They didn’t fight in the war thanks to their father.

They walked around as if they owned every street, every shop, every person; as if everything was owed to them, because they had money and power. (Except from CH.5)

Stefano Spinietta

Behind the courtesy and the charm, Stefano is actually a monster. He has been obsessed with Nina for years, and recently started pressuring her father into arranging a marriage between them.

Stefano Spinietta was a disgusting person. He was the son of one of her father’s business partners, the boss of another mafia family, which operated both in Sicily and in New York. In the last few years, Stefano had been very clear about his intentions towards Nina, and he had taken too many liberties with her, to the point where she had found herself in the position of putting a knife to his throat. But the threat didn’t have the intended effect; if anything, it only made him more relentless. (Excerpt from CH.3)

Stefano still has a scar on his neck from that episode with Nina.

-

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[lady-evelin]

Someone left me this lovely prompt where Anakin is an alien and becomes obsessed with Obi-Wan, who is a scientist and is the only one who treats him well, and I based it on the movie Life (2017) and the video game; There's something in the ice. I hope to have it complete by next week. ✨

Thanks to my friend @full-galaxy for helping me with the cover 😘

Obi-Wan hated his job.

Don't get it wrong, when he decided to study to become a scientist, he dreamed of traveling to different places, researching their culture, plants, and animals, and maybe studying some rare disease and its possible cure.

He never expected that at 33 years old he would be in a bunker in the cold in the middle of the arctic, where he had already been researching snow and more snow for 2 months.

At first, he accepted this proposal from his colleagues since his boss wanted to thaw viruses or microorganisms from many years ago that rumors on the internet said had been buried in the Arctic and that no one had been able to discover them.

Obi-Wan joined the investigation, wanted to get out of his comfort zone, and thought that being in a place outside of the pollution of the crowded city would help him a lot to relax. In addition to the various studies he would do, they were going to keep him busy and maybe teach him something new.

But it was not like that; from the day they arrived until this moment, they have not found anything.

Their very wealthy boss, Palpatine, forbade them to leave until they found something that would make them rich and famous. In addition to the fact that the contract they signed warned them that if any of them left before the completion of the investigation, they would be fired and sanctioned with a large sum of money that no one in that place owned.

Obi-Wan decided to reread a book before going to sleep; maybe tomorrow they would be lucky and they could find something relevant to their research and no more snow.

When he was about to fall asleep, the omega felt a slight tremor throughout his room, opened his eyes in confusion, and looked everywhere. Everything was still in order; maybe it was his imagination and he dreamed it?

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

Obi-Wan doesn't know when he fell asleep but was woken up by Satine's voice; she sounded very excited.

"Obi-Wan! Wake up! You won't believe what happened last night!"

The omega got up alarmed seeing his friend, put his hands to his eyes, and tried to remove all traces of sleep he still had.

"Satine, it's still too early."

"Obi-Wan, a meteorite crashed last night near here, and we found life in it."

"What?"

"Yes, yes, it was very small, but there is life in it. At this moment, they are transferring it to this place to investigate it further."

Obi-Wan couldn't believe it; he even thought he was still asleep and dreaming. This was a godsend. They would finally leave this place!

The omega took one last look at his friend; Satine was not someone who joked or would lie about that kind of thing. Obi-Wan met the Beta on this trip; they both shared things in common, and it was easy to have a conversation with Satine without feeling judged.

Both were assigned to the furthest wing of the bunker; they slept in separate rooms, so Obi-Wan thought it would be a problem to befriend Satine since, from the first moment they introduced them, the Beta was serious and rigid.

But as the days went by, the two began to talk more and share more time together in the laboratory or in other places in the bunker. Their friendship began to blossom until they told each other everything that was going on in their heads and went everywhere together.

With Satine's help, Obi-Wan changed into more presentable clothes, brushing his face and teeth, and had something to eat when the main door of the bunker opened. Several researchers took the new organism to the laboratory, where they all gathered to receive instructions.

As if it were a relic, a piece of completely red stone was placed behind a glass room. That room was highly reinforced to study the organisms or plants in different ecosystems and prevent any microorganisms from coming out, harming everyone's health, or being damaged by the climatic conditions of the laboratory.

Some organisms need highly hot or cold climates to survive or develop. That room could recreate those climates.

No one was authorized to open that part of the laboratory except Palpatine; this was to avoid damaging what they were studying.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The following days, the entire bunker investigated the new acquisition. The organism found never ceased to amaze them, growing and growing in size.

On the first day, it was almost imperceptible to the human eye, but on day 10, it was the size of a thumb and was slimy, like a slug. It could also float in the air and was very elusive.

The organism moved around the glass room as if it were playing; it reminded Obi-Wan of a little boy; all that was missing was to hear his laughter.

The researchers took turns studying it; they didn't want to miss any details of the research and progress. Obi-Wan only chose to see the development of the organism; he knew that the other scientists subjected this being to very rigorous tests. The omega never liked that part of his job; he never liked to hurt another living being. No matter if he would be fired for not following orders, his conscience prevented him from doing so.

The omega sometimes told the alien about his day; that's how he named him Obi-Wan. He mentioned the type of tea he liked to drink and his favorite books. The organism, whenever it heard Obi-Wan's voice, stood still, listening to everything the omega told it. This excited Obi-Wan, since apart from Satine, he had no one else to talk about his private life. Due to the monotony of the days, he could not talk to anyone about new things because everything had already been told and everyone was following the same routine.

But the alien always came up to listen and never left Obi-Wan's side.

Obi-Wan also noticed that the organism showed a certain attachment to him, always following Obi-Wan in that glass room when the omega arrived at the laboratory, expectant of his every move.

At first, Obi-Wan thought it was because he was the only omega in the facility and the organism was attracted to his biology. This made him think that when he watched the other scientists interact with the alien, who was indifferent to them, the organism hardly paid attention to them and much less listened to them. 

The weeks went by and the alien increased in size considerably; now it was the size of a 9-year-old human child, which was very terrifying to see that gray matter moving through the resigned area or floating in the air.

But everything changed when, one day, everyone in the lab screamed—some surprised and others scared. The organism was now in the form of a 9-year-old human child.

He had deep blue eyes with blonde hair.

After a meeting with Palpatine about the progress, they decided to go ahead and try to get as much information as possible from the alien about his planet and if his inhabitants were dangerous. In addition to the medical advances that would be useful for humanity.

The surprises still followed when the boy spoke his language as if nothing had happened, calling himself; Anakin.

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter II: Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards Neteyam - head-on.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, injury

Word Count: 4,7k words

A/N: So I didn't expect the last chapter to do so well, but I am happy so many people enjoyed it. I have really enjoyed writing this and I am happy to say I am almost done with Chapter III, as well. I am feeling all the feels doing this, and I hope you do, too.

“I cause no harm, mind my business If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong … I'm right where you left me”

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. You haven’t seen Lo’ak since that afternoon, although Kiri’s dropped by a couple of times to keep you company while you worked. Getting her to put on a lab coat and goggles was an adventure in itself, but she eventually relents and does as she’s told. 

She’s shooting you a sly smirk as you are busy pipetting a reagent on your samples under an aseptic hood. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, do you have any plans?” You could hear the smile in her voice, which you found odd. You pushed the feeling aside. Kiri’s odd, and the things that bring her amusement sometimes elude you, and you love her for it. 

“Oh yeah, big party planned, I was thinking pres in the gym, then main party in the dining area and a wild after party in the lab.” You roll your eyes. Birthdays seem fun in movies and TV shows, but it really isn’t the same stuck in a tiny confined space with nothing to do. You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth. 18 is the age you become an “adult”, where you become legally allowed to do all sorts of human things, like drink, smoke, vote, be held liable for your actions (this one still confuses you), get married, drive and so much more. It seemed strange to you that so much weight was placed on this day, and you wondered if when the clock struck midnight a few days from now, you will feel different, like something in your brain will click and you will have answers to all the questions you have been silently asking yourself at night. 

“Thought so. Well, we do have a surprise for you.” She says, still smiling from ear to ear.

Has everyone you loved collectively decided to forget that you hate surprises? With a groan, you got up from your chair, removed the samples that you quickly placed back in an incubator, shut the hood and motioned for Kiri to follow you out of the lab. 

It was later than you expected when you finished, and you knew Kiri would have to leave soon so she can make it back home in time for curfew. 

“Anywayyy…” she says, refusing to let your sour mood damper her own, “I was thinking you could join us at the home tree for your birthday party. The family prepared something for you and you haven’t visited in so long, everyone misses you, especially Tuk.” 

“Kiri…” You wanted to go, and were touched that it seems that the family actually wanted you around, but you were scared. You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night. You knew that whilst the Sullys and maybe other Na’vi as well were more than welcoming, others regarded you as a curse, an alien with demon blood that should have been sent to her dying world long ago. You couldn’t deal with knowing your very existence was a reminder of their lost family, their destroyed home, their battle scars. 

“Come onnn, girl, you can’t spend every damn day of your short human life in this place. I mean, I like this place, don’t get me wrong, but if I had to spend every minute of the day here, I’d kill myself. I mean the foooood, the artificial lightinnggg, the stuffy aiiiiir…” she dramatically dragged every word to make her point, and despite everything, you couldn’t really argue with her. 

“I’m not leaving ’til you agree.” 

“I mean I just have to wait long enough that curfew begins, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you run out of this place leaving a Kiri-shaped hole in the wall of the lab.” you said, laughing at the frown that settled on her face at your stubborness. “Fine, Kiri, my God, I will be there.” 

“Yay! Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” You couldn’t help crack a smile at her enthusiasm, and you hugged your friend that was sitting on a chair, short enough this way to enable you to do so. 

“Do you want to see Grace before you go?” 

You forget sometimes Kiri isn’t Jake and Neytiri’s biological daughter. I wonder if they forget, too. Kiri is a miracle child, of sorts. Born out of Grace’s avatar, she was like a gift from Eywa herself. She always visits her Ma when she comes to see you.

Kiri shifts uncomfortably in the chair, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. Strange, you think to yourself. 

“No, I should really go, I don’t want to be late getting home and I want to pick some herbs I saw on the path on the way here. I think they’ll be good for the illness going around.” 

You wanted to push, but decided to let it go. You couldn’t blame the girl for maybe not wanting to be reminded that as well as Spider and yourself, she, too, was an outsider. 

You said your goodbyes, and deciding against dinner with everyone in the lab, you made your way back to your room. You picked a book from the shelf of your mum’s old book collection; another thing that apparently became obsolete on Earth with time, your mum revelled in collecting them. She said the only way to properly experience a story is with a physical copy of it in your hands. You agreed. There were a lot of electronic copies of books in the directory, and while you spent so much of your life dedicating yourself to them, nothing compared to the feeling of holding a book, that you know has been held and experienced by another human. You found notes and dried up tears on the pages of these books even to this day, and every time, it brings you closer to your mum, to your grandparents, to a home you’ll never know for yourself. You fell asleep with one of the poems you read that night still fresh in your mind. 

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

You woke up in the forest. You recognised the place immediately. Secluded from the village and near enough to the lab that even a child could find their way back, it was the perfect hiding spot for little Y/N. You didn’t go there anymore, you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think about it these days, but your dreams spoke to something deep inside you, a yearning you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You looked towards the clearing, where the riverbank was almost unrecognisable past the foliage and rocks and allowed yourself a moment of respite. You were startled by a high pitched laugh, and turned your head towards its origin. A little girl, no older than 10, was running towards the bank holding on to an oxygen mask pack, giggling as she looked behind her to an emerging second figure. She was so happy, so…alive. 

Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears, happiness so loud it expressed itself physically. A second child emerged from the shadows, just behind where you stood. A boy, tall and blue, with the same innocence behind his eyes, quickly caught up to where the girl now lay on a rock by the river. 

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

“You did! I didn’t try that hard, though. I want a rematch.” 

“You’re on!” 

The two kids sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, the hushed whisper of the water and the bustling chirping of insects and birds hidden from view. 

“I have something for you.” The boy suddenly said with a gummy smile. 

From behind his back, he retrieves a bracelet. It was green, made up of numerous beads and tiny rocks that complemented each other so well, it seemed they were put on this planet for the very purpose of adorning a Na’vi’s body. 

You recognised the bracelet and the sight of it tugged at your heart. You felt your eyes tear up and cursed your mind for putting you through this again. 

“This is like your bracelet!” The tiny girl says, with a wide smile. 

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.” 

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

You woke up in tears, eyes locked on the bracelet in question that was still residing on your nightstand. You didn’t wear it anymore, but couldn’t find it in your heart to part with it fully. It now lay next to your head, a bitter reminder of yet another road not taken. You cursed Neteyam for coming back into your life, if only briefly, just to resurface hurt you are yet to deal with or even acknowledge fully. You curse him for the bracelet, and the memories and yet another pain you have to deal with on your own. Always on your own.

The next few days went by in a blur. You spent the days buried in work, and the nights exercising and field stripping weapons. You refused to think, or sleep, or read or play music or really anything to would give your heart the opportunity to take over again. You passed out last night in the gym, but it was a dreamless slumber, which you were grateful for. This night was your last night at 17. You were waiting patiently for the clock to strike midnight as you were finishing up your last experiment for the day. You glanced at the clock, once, then twice, then three times. Eventually, it happened. And then nothing. No answers, no epiphanies, no nothing. Disappointed, but not entirely shocked, you chuckled at yourself for thinking life would give you an easy way out. After all, it never did. A little after 1AM, you made your way to your bed. You took one last look at your empty nightstand, then passed out. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAY!!!” 

Your entire body snapped in an upright position at the sudden auditory onslaught. Your face settled in a deep frown as you were trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. At the edge of your bed on all sides were people. Kiri, Lo’ak, Norm, Max and Spider. They all had big smiles on their faces, a big contrast to your own. You actively tried to remove the frown from your features, and found it easy enough when you realised these people, these people you loved were here, for you. 

“Thanks guys. Anyway, could I get some privacy so I can put some clothes and thank you properly??” 

With a grunt that definitely came from Lo’ak, they all left you to get ready for the day. When you appeared in the dining room, you found a big basket filled with incredible Pandoran food, and you were happy to see your favourites as the most prominent. 

“Oh my GOD, Banana fruitsss!! How did you guys find these??” 

“Lo’ak may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of hours waiting for a couple to drop out of the push fruit tree that grows a few clicks from the village.” Kiri said, laughing and poking Lo’ak sides with her fingers.

You felt a lump in your throat form at the admission. God, you were so grateful for this boy. You could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. Feeling you getting emotional, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. You made your way to him and hugged him, as tightly as you could. You were not great with words, but you put all of your unspoken thoughts in that hug. Your size difference made both of you snicker, and with one last tug, you let go.

“Thank you, guys. You are great, really, I couldn’t ask for better people to be around today.”

“Come on, let’s eat. We have big plans awaiting.” 

“Sing!!” 

You spent the morning eating and talking, Lo’ak complaining about the training and the ass kicking he got from his dad after your last meeting. You were laughing at his exaggerated manner of speaking, excited to finally have him around to get you out of your funk. 

“You guys always want me to sing, you need to pay me if you’re gonna treat me like a jukebox, you know?” 

You picked up the guitar that Norm brought for you out of the recreation room. You took it in your arms and strummed the chords, making sure they were tuned correctly. You thought long and hard about a song, and you found it eventually, buried in your brain, along with the memory of your mum singing it to you as a child with tears streaming down her face. 

“… Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be"

You felt the tears coming, but you willed them away. Your heart was strong, but it couldn’t contend with your mind. You continued, pouring all of your frustrations with Neteyam, with yourself, with this life in the song.

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me"

You looked across the room and felt weird, sick ecstasy at the faces of the people around you, all of which looked sad and glossy-eyed. You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness, and it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

As you played the last chord of the song, you looked up and froze at the sight of Neteyam sitting by the door of the room, an unreadable expression marking his features. You registered people talking in your direction, but couldn’t decipher the words as you lay there, on the ground, guitar in hand, staring at the beautiful boy who did not allow your eyes to leave his own. You swear you saw a flicker of sadness in his big, yellow eyes you used to know so well, but as you were trying to decipher them, Spider’s oh-so-human face flooded your line of sight. 

“Hello!! Earth to Y/N”

“It’s concerning how many times this happens”, Lo’ak intercepts.

You finally focus on the people who have come here for you, and put the guitar down with a small laugh.

“Sorry, guess I got way too into the song.”

“Yeah, what the hell’s up with that? It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a celebration and you’re making us depressed, instead.” Spider says, frowning. 

“Sorry!” You whine, hoping the childish tone would earn a quicker forgiveness. 

They all somehow roll their eyes simultaneously, which you find amusing.

“Mum and dad say it’s time.” It takes a second for your brain to register the Na’vi sentence. The deep voice breaks through the chatter and everyone turns their heads towards the oldest Sully sibling. 

“Right!” Lo’ak says, patting his knees and getting up suddenly. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’

You knew it was dumb, but you were nervous, too nervous, to make your way to the Home Tree after so much time. It’s been years since you have been there, maybe since you’ve been anywhere, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, or to anyone around you. Nevertheless, you put on your mask and secured your oxygen cartridge behind your back. 

You bid a swift goodbye to Norm and Max, who said they will try to make it to the celebration later in the evening. You then stepped outside, eyes finding it hard to adjust to the natural brightness of Pandora. You found the mask uncomfortable, having been so long since you needed it last, and took a deep breath in your attempt to calm down and take it one step at a time. 

Lo’ak was, as always, Neteyam thought, leading the pack. Spider followed suit and you and Kiri maintained a steady pace behind the two boys. Neteyam was quietly walking behind you. He was deep in thought, not being able to shake the image of you playing guitar and singing that song he had never heard before. He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed. His eyes followed you closely, taking in all the details about you he hoped he wouldn’t notice. Your hair was lighter than he remembered, not by much, but enough that it was there, present for him to see. You were tall, taller than you used to be, and taller than most human women he’s seen. You were wearing a skirt, he thinks it’s called, that flows every time the wind touches it. It’s black and it looks soft, and Neteyam can’t help but want to feel it for himself. Your top is braided and beaded, and it seems like a mix between human clothes and Na’vi wear. You back is completely bare short of a string that ties the top together and the man feels his heart picking up pace at the sight. Cursing under his breath, he moves his gaze on a piece of jewellery adorning your arm. A intricate bracelet, green and red, definitely Na’vi make. He remembers briefly Kiri making it for one of your previous birthdays and smiles sadly at the thought. Finally, his eyes settle on a deep scar on the back on your left leg. Before he can help himself, the memories flood his being…

Neteyam found himself once again, waiting outside the big metal building for you to come out. He was excited for today, too excited to put into words. It always took convincing for you to come out, especially recently, but he loved that you said yes to him, and not to Lo’ak or Kiri, for once. He knew you have been sad for a while, and was happy to do anything in his power to help. He jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and you laughed at him for being what you called a “scaredy cat”. 

“I’m happy to see you, Neteyam”, you said, in Na’vi. He smiled to himself at your accent, but loved how hard you tried to speak to him in his own tongue. “Not happy you’re dragging me out, but if it means spending some time with you, I guess I will let it slide” You continued in English.

“I think you will be happy to be out for this”, Neteyam interjected. You walked together in comfortable silence, only speaking when you found a plant or animal you didn’t know the name of. 

“Oh my God, this is so pretty, what’s it called?” You ask, enthusiastically.

“A’o” Neteyam answers you, smiling softly, never getting bored of your incessant line of questioning. Like with the language, he was just happy you cared. 

“What are you wearing?” Neteyam asks, unable to stop himself. 

“Oh, this?” You say, looking down at your choice of attire. “It’s just an old T-shirt I found in one of the drawers of the living quarters. I’m not sure whose it is, but I assume a big old man’s, cause it’s more a dress than a t-shirt at this point.” 

“A T-shirt…” Neteyam said, contemplatively. He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today. 

You walked like this for over an hour, but eventually reached the end of a cliff, that overlooked a beautiful waterfall. Neteyam thought this sight alone will make you feel better, but he had bigger plans in mind. 

“Wow, this is beautiful! This was almost worth the fresh hell I felt when that bug went in my nose like 20 minutes ago.” 

Neteyam laughed, and he revelled in the way only you seemed to be able to make him feel like this. Free and alive. 

Standing on the edge of the cliff, Neteyam let out a high pitched yell, then turned around to look at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He smiled as he heard the trees on the other side of the cliff ruffle, and watched with pride as a big bundle of green, yellow, red and blue emerged from the foliage and landed in front of him. He turned to you and let out a big laugh when he saw your face, jaw dropped in horror and amazement, eyes wide with the glint of curiosity he’s come to love so much. 

“You did it!! I’m so so so proud of you, Neteyam!” You screamed, running at him and launching yourself as high as you could, knowing he would catch you in his arms. “And at 13, too! This has to be some sort of record, right?” 

“I doubt it, but it still felt good doing it. I was shocked Mum and Dad even let me try it. Anyway, I wanted you to meet her.” 

He swung you in his arms with ease, not weighing a lot more than his baby sister, who was just around 3 years old. He finally placed you back on the ground with care, right in front of the Ikran. He made tsaheylu and waited patiently as you were building it up the courage to approach the mighty being that was lowly cooing and nudging its head against Neteyam’s. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your beautiful face, and said a silent prayer, thanking Eywa for still being able to bring that expression to your otherwise crestfallen figure. 

Once it seemed you became comfortable enough around her to pet, he clicked his tongue and motioned for you to get on. You let out an incredulous laugh and shook you head.

“No way in Hell, are you insane??” 

“Come on, Y/N. I never pegged you for a coward.”

After this many years, he knew how to push you buttons. He saw your smile drop and your eyes take on that expression that almost frightened him. Thank the Great Mother you were human, cause you would be a force to behold as a Na’vi. 

“Damn you, Neteyam.” You said, slowly getting up on the banshee and making yourself comfortable in front of the boy. He felt your back flushed against his bare chest, and suppressed a shudder that threatened his body. 

“It will be fun, you will see. Here, hold on here, and don’t let go. I will have my arms around you at all times, and I promise to make her go slowly.” You refused to acknowledge him, and he found himself laughing, again. 

Without any other words, he willed the ikran to take off. You let out an involuntary yelp, but otherwise you were brave and strong, just like he knew you to be. Once you were above the forest, he found you staring in awe beneath you, his gaze locked on the side of your face and on the smile that made him happy to be alive at the same time as you, just so he can experience it over and over. You flew like this for a long time, just taking in the beauty of this world that you both called home. A beauty that he knew you never got to experience, not the way you should have, not the way you deserved. He saw a tear escape your eyes and make its way down your cheeks and settle in between your lips, and cursed himself for not being able to take it away, the pain he knew clawed at you every waking moment since your mum died. You have never been the same since. 

“Thank you for this, Neteyam.” You said, softly. “I wish there was a way to show this to her, a way to share this experience. I know she would have loved it as much as I do, maybe more.” You settled comfortably on his chest and sighed. 

He didn’t get a chance to formulate a response, though, as a loud shriek came from his Ikran and he felt the panic overtake him as the tsaheylu made the feeling echo in between them. Looking up, he saw what no man wants to see: Toruk, his dad’s former pet, launching itself at the two teenagers and their ikran. Clearing his mind, Neteyam removed a hand from the reigns for balance and banked left abrubtly, diving straight for the trees, that were fortunately not too far below them. As if life suddenly stopped to a halt, he was able to experience the next harrowing moments in slow-motion - the diving, the terror of watching your frame slowly disappear from his line of sight, your voice screaming his name as you dropped towards the ground, his own voice getting caught in his throat trying to call for you, willing his Ikran to go faster than he thought was possible in an attempt to catch you, the pool of red liquid spilling from your frame as you impaled your leg on a broken Pxiut hitting the ground. He quickly removed himself from the Ikran and ran to you, picking you up in his arms, trying to ignore the way the blood was spilling down his torso and dripping on the ground. He looked at your unconscious body in his arms and felt the first crack in his heart form, a crack yet to be healed to this day. He pushed back the tears that were starting to pool and got back on the Ikran, flying as fast as he could through the foliage. As soon as he could see the outline of the metal building, he stopped the animal and got off, running with you in his arms. It’s all a blur afterwards. He remembers going home, your now-dried blood still marking his skin like a tattoo, he remembers crying in his mum’s arms, he remembers the guilt that poisoned his mind and heart and he remembers sitting on a cold floor next to what humans called an operating room, waiting to hear if the damage he has caused you will plague you for the rest of your life.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack. 

Tag list :-): @mashiromochi

[rayofdawnworld]

Too Late part 3

Here is part 3 of Too Late a fic that was inspired by this board done by the brilliant @darkficsyouneveraskedfor, please check out her page if you don't already know her and @thezombieprostitute also a brilliant writer that you look in too in case you don't already know her either.

This is a work of Dark Fiction. It WILL contain dark themes. I will post the appropriate tags as they become relevant.

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I do not consent to ANY of my works to be posted for profit. I do not consent to ANY of my works to be posted on to third-party sites. I only have ONE AO3 page and I post what I want on it.

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Please tell me your thoughts, this is my first Reader insert so I'm still a bit unsure if I'm doing a good job. I love constructive criticism.

Will tag you if you ask.

Tags based on Reblogs, Tag requests and likes: @roni-not-tyler @rosecentury @raritygold @fidrygalk @leonaax @severussnapesimp @lov4gor3 @kjah97 @silelda @thedragonlab @hopeasan

Part One, Part Two

Mr. Beckwourth was a kind soul. You came across him one early morning on your way to the university, six months into your escape, unconscious by the sidewalk. You didn’t know how long he had been there, but he did have a wicked gush on his forehead. Luckily for you and him, the milk lad was passing by on his way to deliveries when he spotted the two of you and recognised the old man instantly. Telling you to wait with him, the young man sprinted in a direction and came back with the man's neighbours, a foreign middle-aged couple. After telling them where you worked and asking them to send any news, you collected yourself and made your way to work. 

You received news about him a week later. The poor man was robbed; yes, he was fine; no, he didn't see who did it. After some visits and friendly banter, you became friends and had a standing agreement that every Saturday morning, you would go out to the docks with Mr. Beckwourth to get his supply of fish and then help him sell it in the market.

You were busily accepting an order of salmon and herring when your stomach lurched. Surely you were mistaken. 

Ever since you ran away from your previous life, you have lived in fear of a tall figure with broad shoulders finding you and dragging you back to those horrid people you called family. They would kill you if you ever went back home before you came of age, after what became of Darling Anne. 

There was no way that a man like Sherlock Holmes would come to the market to buy his food. Unless he was in one of his cases, why would it bring him here? You had no clue; you just hoped that whatever it was didn't bring him to this point.

Oh, yes, you had followed the news discreetly (no point in letting those around you know you were literate.), but diligently. You knew all about him and his service to the crown and its citizens. Best not to test fate. I’ve come too far. Your thought was desperate as you dove below the stall and rubbed some fish guts on your cheek and head. I’ll have to spend some money in one of the washhouses with warm water then. Mrs. Acker will have a fit if I show up soiled again. You rose again with a cheery smile, despite your fear about whether you may or may not have been seen.

You were hyper-aware of yourself leaving the market. Once, twice, three times you could have sworn you were being followed, but when you stopped in front of a shop or pretended to turn in the wrong street, with a piece of paper in your hand to make it believable, you had either come across a vagrant or no one at all. It took you longer than normal to get to the washhouse, but it was worth the coin and your time. You didn't afford yourself many luxuries, but good ointments and oils for your skin, courtesy of the two nurses, who were just old school mates and the young governess who took care of some lonely boys on the other side of London at night, and a weekly wash—a habit picked up by your mother and father's stay in their respective corners of the east—were a must. It was, in part, also why you decided to help Mr. Beckwourth. Not only did you like the old man, it also gave you a reason to visit the washhouses once a week. The ones with warm and hot water were cheaper than the tepid tub that Mrs. Acker managed. Having one last look around, you quickly dogged into the washhouse.

It was closer to evening when you finally made it to the house. Exsusted, not only from the week of labour you had but from walking up and down the streets of London just in case your follower from last night or that nuisance Sherlock Holmes had seen you or at least suspected it was you and tried to follow you back to your residence. 

Thanking Mrs. Acker for allowing you to take your supper in your room, you made your way up to what once had been a small attic workshop with a partial glass roof but was now a small room. You didn't mind it. The glass part of the roof had a hatch you could open in the summer, keeping the room cool. After all, who would climb to the roof to steal steel from a humble boarding house? And since the fireplace chimney ran through your room, it kept the winter chill out, despite part of the roof being made of glass. You liked the roof like this. It saved you on candles and gas for the lantern; it provided you with lots of natural light for you to read when you were in your room. And you always did love the sound of the rain. 

All in all, it was a quiet place with its share of whimsy. You had fallen in love with it the moment you saw it. Yes, it was a hassle to go down a flight of stairs every time you needed to go to the washroom, but since it was on the smaller side and was in the attic, it did come in cheaper than the other rooms, which suited you nicely. After eating, you settled down for some well-earned rest.

You didn't know that on the other side of London, in an apartment on Baker Street, a tall man with wide shoulders and dark blue eyes seethed in anger.

It had been by sheer coincidence that he found you at the market. Watson had to do some hours at the hospital, and Mary, being heavily pregnant, asked him to help her with her errands at the market. He stood silent as you helped an older man behind the fishmonger's stand. You couldn't help but notice your still-smooth hands. They had thickened with what he deduced was years of hard work, but they were still fine with smooth skin. On the subject of your skin, that too was fine, smooth, and quite clean. It didn't have any of the telltale muck common among the more impoverished folk. He didn't see how you could afford the cost of regular baths in a boarding house, so it could only be through the use of the washhouses that you could keep so clean. It still didn't explain the softness of your skin and healthy glow. Sherlock only had time to quickly turn around before you raised your eyes in his direction. He was going to take advantage of his luck. It seemed that he would move his plans forward by a whole day and a half. Making sure that Mary was alright and excusing himself, he made his way to the first beggar he found near the steps of the market. 

He was going to put his homeless network to good use. He would know where you lived by nightfall. 

Nightfall provided him with nothing. Despite no less than fifteen of his best in the Homeless Network having followed you discreetly, you still managed to give them the slip, more or less where he had followed you last night. He grabbed the skull on the fire mantle and threw it angrily at the wall. He then shot the wall for good measure. 

That sent Mr. Hudson into hysteria, threatening him about calling the Yard. No doubt Watson would have some choice words come Monday morning if previous fits of rage had taught him anything. He growled and threw more things at the wall opposite him. 

Pussycat was in for a right spanking when he finally got his hands on her.

Pussycat was in for a whole lot more when he got his hands on her. A lot more. 

Sherlock smiled in the darkness, clutching his violin bow in his hands.

[lunanami]

STAY THE NIGHT — KEIGO TAKAMI.

warnings : depictions of a bad mental health episode and disordered eating, vague allusion to keigo's past, gender neutral reader, pet names (duckie, baby, sweetheart), written with selective mutism in mind.

notes : very self indulgent comfy fic i wrote this week for myself, just posting in case it puts a smile on anyone else's face <33

wc: 1.2k

you'd spent the day hidden from the rays of sunlight that cut through the gaps in the curtains and distrupting the fortress of solitude that you'd crafted from a mess of blankets and pillows strewn around the mattress.

keigo was long gone, having left early in the day to go work at the agency. you were still sleeping when he left; he hated to wake you so the avian hero simply settled for leaving an ice cold bottle of water (now bordering on room temperature) and writing a cute post-it note and sticking it to the lampshade on your bedside:

"get some rest today for me, okay? don't push yourself too hard, i'll be home as soon as i can. love you, duckie. — kei."

the silly little duck that he'd attempted to draw made you giggle — he certainly was no artist. nonetheless, it warmed your heart that he cared enough to leave something so very sweet. you took a sip of the drink he'd left for you before slipping back under your covers, ignoring the rumbling in your stomach and the tremors that overtook you.

keigo kept his promise, re-entering your shared apartment a few hours after midday. since his agency had taken on additional sidekicks, he'd gotten more time to himself. occasionally he used it for press opportunities, now being the number two hero, but the real reason that he adored such circumstance was that he got to see much more of you.

"hi, duckie," he called out in a whisper, cautious in case you were napping. eventually he found you half awake, holding onto his pillow for dear life. he sat next to you on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

keigo would be stupid if he couldn't tell that you were struggling. he didn't know what was causing it, yet he was patient enough to do whatever he could to help you out until you were ready to open up to him. you let out a sniffle, rubbing your face against his chest as he held onto you.

fortunately, the man was an expert observer and had begun to learn what your small actions meant. he slid the hair tie that he always kept on him off of his wrist, moving your hair into a messy, messy sort-of bun as he continues to caress your back. at this point, keigo could feel your trembling.

"have you eaten anything today, duckie?" he asked, looking at you in case you nodded. you didn't however, you simply shook your head. "okay, baby, it's okay," he cooed. "do you think you could eat if i made you something? would you try f'me, duckie?"

you mustered up your strength to whisper an affirmative, allowing keigo to lift you and carry you to the kitchen. there, he sat you on a stool by the island while he got to work.

very early into knowing him, keigo began to pick up on the small things, like how to tell when you were struggling or, relevant right now, what your safe foods were. perhaps it was his own harsh upbringing, but caring for those he loved had become something that he cherished so very dearly — it made him feel fulfilled. you could tell just as much. while he made you something to eat, he hummed a tune absentmindedly (not realizing that it replicated the melody of your favourite song).

you hugged your arms, craving the warmth of either your blanket stash or a wing hug from your boyfriend. "you cold, duckie?" keigo asked, already shrugging off his jacket. he draped it over your back, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wrapped you up tight. "'m all done anyways," he continued, walking back over to the worktop and returning with a plate of food.

"i know it's a lot, duckie," he confessed, "but i thought we could share, 's that okay?" he waited for your nod before continuing. "we can either go and put a movie on or stay in here and i can tell you about my day, which would you like?"

keigo watched as you struggled to form a response, instead opting to put his two hands out in front of him. he then repeated your option, assigning each of them a hand that you could grab or squeeze to communicate with him. he never made you feel silly for being unable to verbalize what you wanted, instead working quickly to come up with solutions.

you grasped his right hand, indicating that you just wanted for him to talk to you. keigo's voice was always a source of comfort to you; he could quite literally narrate the dictionary and you would be beyond content. softly, he began to tell you all of the happenings at the agency. it was mostly about the new intern that he'd taken under his wing, tsukuyomi from ua. solely from the excitement in keigo's voice, you could tell that he was elated to have another avian-esque hero around. he spoke of the progress that the young hero has made in such a short time, and all of the ideas that he had to help him improve even further.

his rambling was enough to fill the room for the both of you, which put you at ease as it removed the pressure for you to reply outside of the odd nod to ensure that you were listening and not drowning in your own thoughts. you picked at the food that he'd given you, with your boyfriend occasionally grabbing a bite for himself.

you barely noticed that you'd gotten through most of it, with keigo now on some tangent about how he suspects two of the sidekicks at the agency are dating, so he always assigns them patrols together. when you finished eating, he did notice, however.

"all done, duckie?" he asked, to which you nodded timidly. he stood up, wrapping his arms around you. "'m so proud of you, sweetheart. you did so good, yeah?" you leaned into his touch, nuzzling into his chest. "sleepy?" he queried, and you nodded. "why don't we go take a nice warm shower and then cuddle up for the night? does that sound good?"

you nodded your head again, this time more enthusiastically than those prior. keigo chuckled lightly, happy to see you seeming a little bit more like yourself. "you know, duckie," he began, while you face was still smushed against his chest. "i'm really really proud of you, i mean it. i know it's hard sometimes, but 'm always here for you. you're so strong. i'm always in awe of how you can go through this and still pull through, even if you need someone to lean on, you know? i just wanna stay and help you out, duckie, 'm not going anywhere." he punctuated his little ramble with a kiss to the crown of your head, ruffling his feathers before finally releasing you and leading you to get settled for the night, just as he'd promised.

sidenote: i actually think you and kei would end up stalking the socials of the two sidekicks and going on a full detective search later that night ><

[noforkingclue]

Loyalties Chapter 14 (Tommy Shelby x reader x Alfie Solomons)

Merry Christmas Eve guys. I was only planning on publishing this next week but I decided to do it early! Hope you all like it!

Loyalties tag list: @jk-acc, @eventhedarkestlightshines, @secretdiplomatspyknight, @myjumper, @liesandghosts, @ischysiaclark, @cnoute, @geeksareunique, @idiotlegs, @belenosblack, @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy, @spaceybissh, @joan2914, @ttae-yong, @not-urct,   @writers-hes,   @shaddixlife,   @optimisticsandwichgladiator, @cookiez56-blog, @character---obsessed, @johnmurphys-sass

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine, @neonpurplestars89-blog

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites,@spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

It was strange how things settled back into some sense of normality. Messages still came from Alfie, you delivered the relevant ones to Tommy, you and Tommy… talked. Slowly you spent more time down The Garrison and your presence was becoming more expected. You could sense the Shelby’s becoming more relaxed around you and you wished you could lower your guard around them.

And the one night, everything changed.

You raised your eyebrows as tommy got up from his seat after you handed him Alfie’s latest letter. Even his brothers seemed slightly taken aback as he grabbed him coat and muttered,

“Business, love. Don’t want anything to happen to you in my city.”

“How very kind of you, Mr Shelby. I’ll be sure to let Alfie know about your generosity.”

The two of you walked out in silence. It was strange having Tommy walk you back although not necessarily unwelcomed. People didn’t fuck about when you had a Shelby walking next to you. Tommy offered you a cigarette and you took it wordlessly, only pausing to let him light it for you. It was strange having these familiar actions be completed by Tommy and not by Alfie. You had become too used to Alfie walking you home in an evening, his arm slung about your shoulders. However, the two of you had only walked down a couple more street before Tommy let out a curse and dragged you into a nearby alley.

“What the-“

Tommy slapped a hand over your mouth and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervousness course through you. Was this it? Was this how you were going to die? What had Alfie done to piss of the Shelby’s this much that Tommy was going to kill you in some random Birmingham alley? However, and much to you surprise, Tommy lower his hand. He took a step closer and said quietly,

“Trouble, love.”

“More than usual?”

Tommy’s gaze locked with yours and your breath hitched at the look in his eyes. The steely blue that hardened expectantly. Tommy took a step closer, pinning you against the wall. His hand cupped your cheek before slowly moving to grasp your chin.

“Trust me?” he asked

“Do I have a choice?”

“Yes.”

“Then I do.”

You don’t know what made you say it. Maybe it was just a moment of madness or maybe it was something deeper. However, you didn’t have any time to react before Tommy pressed his lip against yours. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss for someone as rough as Tommy. Your eyes widened at the unexpected action but you couldn’t help but lose yourself to the sensation.

Tommy pulled you closer against him, one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand was still cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone. Your hands found their way to his shoulders and your fingers curled against the lapels of his coat. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should be repulsed by it but, much to your horror, you weren’t. When Tommy eventually broke the kiss he remain close. His nose brushed against yours and you could feel his breath fan against your face. He glanced towards the entrance of the alley before saying slowly,

“They’re gone.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then can you give me some space.”

Tommy’s gaze snapped back to you. He smirked and said,

“Is that really what you want?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to think about it?”

“No.”

Tommy leaned in and you turned to the side. Tommy’s lips pressed against your cheek. He lingered for a second and you resisted the urge to lean into it. Eventually he moved away and you grimaced.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” you said as you staggered away, “this really, really shouldn’t have happened.”

*

It had been a week since you had seen Tommy. Part of you were concerned about why Alfie hadn’t sent any messages but you also knew that these things did happen. Mrs Goldberg was away for the week visiting her sister so you were tasked with looking after her house. You had just finished doing the last of the washing up when you heard a pounding at the door. You rolled your eyes but when the knocking continued you threw down the towel and marched towards the door. You flung it open and froze when you saw Tommy. You tried to slam the door shut but Tommy was quicker. He caught the door and pushed his way in before shutting the door behind him.

Neither of you spoke, an uncomfortable silence settling between you. Then Tommy lunged forward. He grabbed you roughly and pushed you against the wall before pressing his lips against yours. This was the type of kiss you were expecting from Tommy. Rough and bruising, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip when you refused to open your mouth for him.

His hands grabbed your wrists as you two of you stumbled further back into the house. You were pushed against the table and he let go of your wrists and you wrapped your arms around him. You tangled your fingers in his hair and he let out a soft moan when you tugged at it. The two of you broke apart, both gasping for air. Tommy was standing between your legs, his hands firmly on your waist.

“Tell me this shouldn’t be happening.” he breathed

“This shouldn’t be happening.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“Then why did you kiss me.”

You opened your mouth and Tommy seized the opportunity to kiss you again. You moaned and one of Tommy’s hands moved to the back of your head. He pressed you firmly against his chest and you moved your hands to his chest. You pressed against it and almost reluctantly Tommy broke the kiss.

“Tell me, y/n,” your breath hitched when he said your name, “tell me again we can’t do this.”

“We can’t do this, Mr Shelby.”

“Then say my name.”

“Make me.”

[teamhappyme]

an adjustment period

josh lyman x female!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: politically inaccurate portrayal of the white house, aka the west wing, projecting all my feelings onto josh lyman

a/n: me? posting two fics in one month? groundbreaking. I really am in my josh lyman era sue me idc.

“He will call you back at his next availability. I don’t know when that will be, Congressman.” You pulled the phone away from your ear as the Congressman yelled at you through the receiver. “I will let him know. Thank you, have a nice day Congressman.” 

You slammed the receiver against the base until the rest of the communications bullpen looked over at you. 

“I swear to god,” you mumbled to yourself as you barged into Sam’s office. “This is the first and last time I ever fill in for Ginger. Congressman who-gives-a-shit wants you to call him back at your earliest convenience.”

Sam looked up from his briefing, a small smirk on his face. “You would rather help me with research for the state of the union than answer my phone? I’m shocked.”

“Sam, if you don’t give me back my encyclopedia and the keys to my office,”

“Relax,” he interrupted, throwing your keys back to you which you caught easily. “I have a meeting in the oval, walk me there and I’ll give you your precious encyclopedia.”

“Fine.”

You walked through the communications bullpen, bumping into a frantic Kathy juggling a stack of papers in her hands.

“Sam owes you lunch everyday for the next two weeks until he leaves,” you told her, a small smile spreading over her face. “And if he tries to give you a hard time, call me, and then the President.”

“I’m not made of money, you know.” Sam piped in while leading you back into the route of the Oval Office. 

“I have three words for you: Gage Whitney Partner.”

“Touché.”

The two of you rounded the corner past Josh’s office, and you couldn’t help but peer in to see if he was there. 

It was a habit that started first out of survival. In the beginning of your tenure in the west wing you couldn’t walk past Josh’s office without him singing the Yale fight song. Then, after a heated argument in the Roosevelt room between the two of you over the relevance of the Oxford comma, you took every opportunity to occupy his free time to support your argument in favor of the beloved punctuation mark.

Four years had gone by, and somewhere along the way, the small squabbles turned into advice sessions on policy or speech writing. Sometimes, if either of you were feeling sentimental, you would share stories of your times at Yale. 

Over time, it became part of your everyday routines to check in on one another, and it was one of the best parts of your day.

Behind writing speeches for the President of the United States, of course.

“Remind me to edit the concluding paragraphs of the President's speech to the education forum. Toby told me I’ve been using too much passive voice.”

“You do use too much passive voice.”

He stopped in front of Charlie’s desk, glaring at you for the comment.

“Hey, I like the passive voice as much as you, but Toby hates it, therefore I don’t use it.”

“He’ll be ready for you in a minute.” Charlie told Sam before leaving his desk for the Oval.

“Hey, have you guys found a new you yet? Toby has gone through like ten interviews and half of them left looking like they were going to cry.” You said as Charlie waved him in to the Oval. “I mean, the solution to this would be to not have you leave and become a congressman, because that’s boring and you can’t even write your own speeches. In fact, that’s exactly what you should do.”

You walked him to the doorway of the oval, waiting for him to hand you your encyclopedia that had been held hostage.

“Why don’t you come and join me and the President, he would like to be the one to tell you who we picked.”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? You know I have absolutely no patience for these things.”

He didn’t answer you, instead he looked into the Oval Office, a small smile on his face. You looked in after him, curious as to what he was so amused with. 

All you saw was the President leaning against his desk, staring at the two of you, I’m sure not happy to be kept waiting.

“I don’t have all day you know,” President Bartlet joked before waving you both in.

Wait a minute.

“Sam,” You looked over at your boss, his smile now grinning from ear to ear. “No, Sam, it can’t-“

“Come on,” he interrupted, pushing you into the oval with a steady hand on your back.

You’d been in here plenty of times; usually with a group of people, and usually not when you’re getting offered the job of a lifetime. But when it’s just you and the President, it’s the most terrifying place in the world.

“I’ve never seen you scared a day in your life, don’t tell me today is the day you decide to be scared of the White House.” The President commented as you tried to relax.

“Well if you offer me a drink from the fancy decanter I can promise you I’ll be a lot less scared, sir.”

You and Sam sat down across from the president, and waited for the rest of your career change. 

It was hard for you to listen to anyone praise your work ethic, character, and dedication to your job, let alone from the commander in chief himself. You worked for Toby, so there weren't a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings being spread around. So when the president mentioned that, yes, Sam recommended you for his position, but it was Toby that practically locked him in the Oval Office saying it had to be you, you were more than shocked.

You knew deep down he was a softie.

After accepting the position with absolutely no hesitation, it was off to the races with another meeting for the president.

“Mr. President, just one more question.” You asked as he walked you out. “Is there any way we can rework this position so that Toby answers to me and not the other way around?”

“Dream big,” the President said through his laughter, which brought a smile to your face. 

Once you and Sam cleared through Charlie and Mrs. Landingham, you landed a sharp smack to his chest.

“What the hell was that for?” He asked, resting his hand over his hurt chest.

“You couldn’t have told me that you were going to nominate me for your job? Or that the president was going to offer me the job himself in the Oval Office?!”

“Well, then I wouldn’t be able to see your anxious shaking and clammy hands as the President raves about you.”

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and the smile quickly returned to your face.

“You deserve this. I’m just sad I won’t be able to see you and Josh fight in Senior Staff meetings.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll be visiting you on the hill.”

Sam walked you back to your office and handed you the responsibility of finishing the President’s remarks for tonight’s Town Hall meeting.

“If it isn’t the new Deputy Communications Director in the flesh.”

Josh was waiting for you in your office, holding a gold box in his hand while swiveling around in your office chair.

“Technically we’re equals now, so I can tell you to get the hell out of my chair without fear of losing my job.”

“Technically, I outrank you, but since you don’t answer to me, I’ll let it slide.” He stood up from your chair, moving to stand across from you. “Did you quake under the stress of wondering what the president wanted from you?”

“Did you come here to congratulate me or make fun of me?” You asked, a smirk appearing on his face. “And is that present in your hand for me or your new accessory?”

“Do you have to ruin all the fun?” He commented and handed you the present.

You opened the box, taking out the tissue paper to reveal a book, The Social Contract to be exact.

“I know we both went to Yale, but I’m not sure I share the same affinity for the literature of Rousseau that you do, I’m more of an Austen or Didion kind of gal.” You joked. 

“I thought I’d get you something that you could quote from in your State of the Union address. You know the President loves the cheese.”

You opened the cover of the book to find a note from Josh written on the inside. There were butterflies in your stomach before you read the first word, because that’s just the effect he had on you.

The relationship you shared with Josh is one that you greatly cherished. Your work rarely overlapped, being an underling of Sam in the communications department didn’t leave a lot of room for talking major policy with Josh. But after your own squabbles, and then overhearing a debate between you and Toby only days into your tenure at the White House, he quickly found any reason to work with you.

He would volunteer to work on research with you when he had any spare time, and he always requested you when he needed an extra hand when heading over to the Hill. You finally asked him about it a few months into the arrangement, and he shrugged before admitting he’d never seen someone stand up to Toby like that. 

“You’re gonna go further than a speech writer in the communications department. One day I think you may run this whole building.”

You read aloud from his note, the same thing he said to you three years ago on your walk to the Hill. 

You didn’t think he meant it then, and you surely can’t believe it now.

“I told you I’m good with words, Sam and Toby just never give me a chance.”

You closed the book, the weight of this new position pushing you back against your desk. You’re senior staff now. You’re in charge. You are going to be in the room where it happens.

“What if I’m not good at it.” You admitted in the open air. 

“Hold on-“ Josh tried to interrupt you.

“Sam, Toby, and the President of the United States just told me they want me for this job. I don’t have a law degree, Josh. I have a Bachelor’s degree in English and a Masters in Political Science from Yale, but I don’t make laws. I don’t have an illustrious career in politics, I’m not even a head speechwriter for Christ’s sake. I crumble under the image of the Oval Office, and unless I’m correcting Toby’s grammar, I don’t particularly like to debate with people. I am going to be in charge of a department, responsible for people to get things done the way I want. I barely get things done the way I want. I am not going to be good at this.”

“Hey, I went to Yale, don’t drag her down.”

You threw him a look as he moved from his spot in the doorway.

“For the last three years, I’ve watched you handle more crises and speeches than any other deputy in the communications office. Sure, the President showered you with compliments for your writing skills, but it’s you, the person behind the speeches, who is going to make real change here.”

“Josh,” you protested, your voice becoming a whisper as you grew uncomfortable with the accolades once again.

“I’m serious,” he began, moving to stand in front of you. “No one ends up in the West Wing by chance. You were meant to be here. And I have no doubt in my mind that you are going to run this building one day.”

You shook your head, letting your hair fall in front of your face to shield Josh from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. No one has ever believed in you like Josh does.

“Hey,” he worriedly said, slowly reaching for your hand. “What’s really bothering you?”

You looked down at your hands, fingers laced with his for what felt like the hundredth time. The line was always a bit blurred with Josh. You worked on so many projects together, spending hours on end in one office or another. Three years of small spaces and critical decision making led to post-meeting breakdowns, confiding in people you spent hours on end with.

Josh quickly became your person at work, and after the shooting, you became his. Neither of you spoke of it, you just knew that he would be there for you whenever you needed it. Josh knew it all, from screaming matches with Toby, to family emergencies, and the never ending question of what your purpose in life is, which was looming over everyone’s head that worked in the West Wing. 

You had always felt something more for Josh. Maybe you read too much into it when he would walk you home from a late night event at the White House, or how he would call you in the middle of the night to get your thoughts on how to best proceed with policy. It was easy between you two, and with Bartlett’s second term in the White House now halfway through, you thought this friendship would finally shift to something more.

But now that you were equals, senior advisors to the President, holding extreme responsibilities for the republic in your hands, you knew that the dynamic would change. There was no room to slide into a new relationship.

“Things are going to change now, between us. And I know that nothing has really been said but, I’d like to think something was… shifting into more.” Your voice trailed off at the end, embarrassment taking over. 

“There was.” Josh reassured you, a small smile breaking over his face.

You nodded, and in an attempt to hide the goofy smile crossing your own face, you continued to look down at your hands. You reached out for his other hand, which he gladly surrendered to you.

“Things don’t have to be different. There are no rules against a devilishly handsome Deputy Chief of Staff dating a gorgeous Deputy Communications Director.” He joked, trying to get a laugh out of you.

He was right, there really wasn’t a rule against it. And if there was, you’re sure it had been broken before.

“I’m sure you’re right. But if I really want to make a difference here, I need to focus on this job, and not be distracted by an annoying Deputy Chief of Staff.”

“I understand,” he said with a smile, giving your hands a squeeze. “And I think a two month adjustment period is plenty of time before I ask you out on a date.”

“Josh,” you said through a laugh, “Are you really that impatient you need to put a timetable on it?”

“Yes. Four months sound better?”

“Six months.” you said, but as you looked at him longer, you knew you couldn’t possibly last that long. “With a check-in at the three month mark to see how I’m adjusting.”

“That sounds like a great plan.”

A great plan indeed. 

To an outsider, the two of you looked like school kids interacting with their first crush. And that’s exactly how you felt, butterflies in your stomach and your brain all fuzzy.

“Josh!” You could hear Toby yelling through your closed office door, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“You’re Director is a real pain in my ass.”

“I tried to get his job while I was in there, but the President said no.”

He laughed and tried to pull away, but you held on to his hand even tighter.

“Josh,” he turned back to you, and you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him. It took him a minute, but his arms wrapped around your waist, and you finally felt like you could do this. “Thank you for the book.”

“You’re welcome. You’ve got this.” He said and dropped a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek before pulling away. “I’ve gotta go find the dictator before he breaks every door down.”

“Go ahead, I’m going to spare myself from him for as long as I can.”

“Ok, I’ll see you in Senior Staff tomorrow morning. Newbie brings a full breakfast.” he joked.

“In your dreams,” you said with a roll of your eyes as he went to exit your office. 

“You really are going to do great here.” He winked and wrapped his knuckles on the doorframe before yelling into the bullpen himself for Toby.

Yeah, there’s no way you guys are lasting six months.

****

[pinkscaped]

wait omg myah please please PLEASE tell us more abt myrah’s career after allume (and maybe during too 🤭) i js NEED to hear more abt her !

MYRAH YAMAZAKI is a Japanese K-pop idol and global icon based in South Korea. She made her initial debut in the rotational girl group ALLUME in 2005 as the group's leader and lead vocalist until her generation's graduation in 2010. Myrah is often credited for making ALLUME as popular as they are, achieving international stardom during this time for her strong attitude and natural star quality. Her run in Allume would be dubbed "Myrah and Friends" by fans due her popularity often overshadowing her groupmates.

Myrah would immediately begin a solo career after her 2010 graduation, destroying both the Korean charts and Japanese charts with the mini album HAUTE TOPIC. HAUTE TOPIC would break records for having all four tracks debut in the Top 10 on Melon. Moonlight, Chase Me, Starlight, and Kitty Kat would all break into the top ten and remain there for a solid five months. Myrah's solo career would be proflic and global, debuting in Japan shortly after her Korean solo debut where she would destroy the charts there as well. She would be the highest-performing Flowerbank soloist ever until the acquisition of Baebi's contract in 2023.

Myrah is still a high profile celebrity, starring in a handful of blockbuster films, critically acclaimed dramas, and becoming the face of many luxury brands through out the years. She is also the head of the creative board in Flowerbank Entertainment, owning an impressive amount of stocks in the company. She has been the host of the radio show AllTalkMe for over ten years now, keeping her and Allume relevant over the years.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫           INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: MYRAH

BIRTH NAME :: Myrah Yamazaki

Birthday :: December 1st 1987

Zodiac :: Sagittarius 

Birthplace :: California

Hometown :: Osaka, Japan

Ethnicity :: Japanese

Nationality :: American-Japanese

Faceclaim :: Devon Aoki

Height :: 175 cm || 5′9

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫           VIRAL MOMENTS!

"I don't think people realize we haven't actually had sex...I wish but we're acting, guys." One of her first viral moments as an actress was in 2016 during the press tour for A Man and a Woman with her co-star Gong Yoo. Myrah and Gong Yoo would go on to have a public relationship that would often have them going viral for their cute and funny moments. To fans' dismay, the pair would split in late 2020.

When she snatched Sooah's mic from her during a concert, singing her lines and high notes. "My mic wasn't working. It's not like she sings much anyways," Myrah would go on to say in an interview, fueling the fire of rumors about the two having a feud during their time in Allume. After this, Sooah would noticeably clutch her microphone whenever Myrah would walk by her.

"How could I not like her? I've never spoken to her. I love 2ne1. Shut up." Myrah would shut down rumors of her and CL of 2ne1 having beef, telling a fan to shut up when they spoke negatively of her. Shot in glorious 2009 iPhone quality, the video would make its round around the internet. A week later, Myrah would post a selfie with CL on her blog with the caption "My bestiiiiii~ ^-^ <3" and the two are still close to this day.

She put her hand up in Gdragon's face when he attempted to sing to her at the 2013 MAMA Awards. It was a lighthearted interaction, Myrah laughing the whole time, but the internet took it differently and deemed her "a rude bitch" and VIPS would begin to harass her. This would have very little effect on Myrah as she would go on to post a couple of photos of her with T.O.P and Gdragon in the studio with the caption: "I lovvveee rappers!! (*^^*)♡"

"She's a bitch! A hot one though!" Myrah would shout out her car window when she was escorted out of a club by Flowerbank CEO Kim Iseul. Myrah was a bit of a club-goer post-Allume, often having to be picked up by friends or, on rare occasions, her CEO. When asked by paparazzi about her thoughts on Iseul having to pick her up, prompting her to say her now most iconic line.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 39 Doomish Hope Posting

Hi internet void. I've got bachi on the brain again.

Chapter 39 is the "if they aren't soulmates I'll eat every hat I own" moment of the series. Also seems like the "Hakuri will be shelved once the mission is done" chapter, which is a fucking shame. But I will remain calm(ish) and wait for Hokazono-sensei to finish cooking. So we start off with some really nice foreshadowing coupled with a little continuity update. Mr. Inazuma found his way to Char and Hinao and sees some of the folks from the storehouse get dropped off at the entrance, but his sister isn't among them. Hmm. Then, we switch back to the fight and see our precious Hakuri struggling. He's got a free-flowing nosebleed and a splitting headache trying to keep up with his dad's manipulation of the subspace. And hey look, some more foreshadowing. (Hint: Kyoura isn't talking to Chihiro full time here.)

Yet once again Kyoura underestimates his son...

… while Chihiro's faith never wavers. Once more, despite nothing being said between them, they fight in perfect harmony.

Aaaaah. THESE GUYS. They've known each other for weeks at most and they're already doing this mad OP shit? Hakuri awakened to his storehouse powers less than an hour ago and he's already copying his dad's techniques to match Chihiro's fighting style? Chihiro fucking yeeted Enten at Kyoura without a word and Hakuri instantly understood that he needed to teleport him to the other side to catch it, then create a hologram for a fake-out so Chihiro could land the blow? Are you KIDDING ME? Our color-coded protagonist/foil pair are acting as one already? Hokazono-sensei's gotta slow down or we won't have anything left to explore with them.

Maybe that's the intention, though.

The little flashback where young Hakuri tells his father that "I'm gonna become a leader who surpasses you!" is a huge moment in the chapter for two reasons. First, the emotional catharsis that I'll rant about later. Second, the next potential bit of foreshadowing. When Hakuri initially met Chihiro, his stated goal was to end the Rakuzaichi, which we took him at his word for. He didn't know he was actually the second coming of Sazanami Jesus and neither did we. But that single panel recontextualized everything. If Hakuri hadn't been deemed worthless and disowned, the Toukuri AU could have been pretty close to canon. He's actually a very ambitious guy- no wonder he was so dogged about getting Chihiro to help him! Obviously, his goal shifted from "become a better leader than my father" to "burn it all down" at some point during the time where he was abused. But what if he never fully let go of that dream?

We see that the Sazanami family is huge and powerful enough that even the government treads lightly around them. So it's not a stretch to think that Sazanamis will be able to continue on even without Kyoura as long as they have a capable leader. Someone perhaps a bit more reform-minded to keep the government off their back while they adjust to a new way of doing things. A guy who's too stubborn to quit and powerful enough to quell the critics; a legitimate heir who invokes the legend of their progenitor's genius, perhaps. Someone who has a deeply personal stake in erasing the legacy they were all groomed to protect. So yeah, Hakuri could very easily get wrapped up in his family's business while Chihiro moves on. Not to say he would never be relevant again- the storehouse ability alone practically guarantees he's sticking around in some capacity (gotta have a safe place to keep those WMDs and all). But I'm steeling myself for seeing a lot less of this lethal cinnamon roll in a few chapters.

Ideally for me at least, Hakuri and Chihiro end the Rakuzaichi and let the government step in to take care of the aftermath. Hakuri, being disowned and having completed his revenge, decides to stay with Chihiro to help him on his own journey. And wouldn't it just be so sweet if much later on Chihiro adopts him into his family register so Hakuri has a last name he can be proud of? But the very real chance of Hakuri being sidelined is preventing me from full investment right now. It all depends on the themes Hokazono-sensei is intending to impart with this arc.

The theme of reforming your family's violent legacy is obviously deeply resonant with Chihiro's current mission. The two of them have basically speedran the development from strangers to soulmates so that this could happen. I just don't understand why we'd do all of this relationship upgrading in a single arc if Hakuri was meant to stick around and grow with Chihiro y'know? What could possibly be left open for them after this? Wouldn't it be too OP to keep them together when they're already silently dancing through battles in perfect sync? They've already reached peak combat effectiveness or close to it. And though Hakuri's family issues are very likely to still be an albatross around his neck, those are for him to tackle now that he's found his strength; Chihiro's got other things to focus on. Leaving the arc with Hakuri posed to reform the Sazanamis would be a worthy culmination of his story. At this point he's practically used goods (narratively speaking)! Chihiro learned a lesson and made a friend. Time for something new… maybe checking in on the Kamunabi? A little downtime before finding the next sword? Either way, Hakuri doesn't need to be there when he could be rehabilitating his family's image and purpose. Unless…

He's used to explore the theme of healing from tragedy as the heroine.

Yes I'm spouting my bullshit again and yes I'm very fucking serious about this. My clown suit is freshly dry-cleaned and neatly laid out because I could easily be wrong but I think (hope) I'm not. Mostly because it seems like Hokazono-sensei wants to keep showing us glimpses of Chihiro's true feelings under his hardened persona. Very smart thing to do in order to get readers invested beyond his badass action stunts and tragic backstory. But we need someone to bounce off of him and be a direct contrast or else we're stuck with lonely ol' :| Chihiro all the time. (I love the deadpan gags but they won't stay fresh forever if that's the only joke to make with him.) We need a real companion for him that's on his level. Chihiro's so far skewed into expressionless determinator outside of battle that he desperately needs a polar opposite to help mellow him out. I raved like a lunatic about it already so I won't retread all that… but if Hakuri isn't a color-coded foil to balance out Chihiro's extreme personality then fuck me for thinking I'm somewhat media literate, I guess. We need Hakuri for levity and being able to relate to Chihiro. Poor guy desperately needs a friend to help pull him out of his own head. If Char is there for protection, and Shiba to guide him, Hakuri should be there for him to grow with in an emotional sense. Someone he can start opening up to in quiet moments.

The memers got it badly wrong assuming that Chihiro was a one-dimensional revenge bot- he's actually a sensitive guy carrying a lot of pain he can't express. Not to Char (small child), not to Shiba, Azami, or Hinao (adults he's emotionally closed off from). It's gotta be a peer like Hakuri who will eventually be able to sit by his side and help him. We've seen the magic of Hakuri's presence already- Chihiro admitting he was fearful of Shinuchi being misused in the elevator scene, helping him overcome his doubts about using Enten, and later helping him let Enten go. Yuge stuff for guys that just met each other, don't you think? Then it was followed by all that soulmate-coded stuff in the raid… It would be awful for Chihiro to lose the friend he can confide in. So if the story pulls them apart my heart will break a little bit, yeah. There's so much more Hakuri can do just by being there for Chihiro in a way no one else can right now. Chihiro needs his heroine to be vulnerable with, so let it be the guy who's already done the heavy lifting! Hakuri's a sturdy guy, after all- I'm sure he can handle being comic relief and emotional support.

Alright. HakuHiro delusions aside, I'm also going absolutely apeshit over the parallels being drawn here during the chapter. Feral. Certifiably insane. Cannot stop myself from jizzing all over the goddamn place. If Hokazono-sensei can keep this quality storytelling through Kagurabachi's entire run it'll be a fucking masterpiece.

I mentioned at the start that Mr. Inazuma's sister was used to foreshadow that the fight between Kyoura and team HakuHiro wouldn't end decisively this chapter. Her situation won't be resolved until the Rakuzaichi is completely over with, so that catharsis will have to wait. What we did get is absolutely stellar though. Kyoura definitely got the ultimate comeuppance for constantly underestimating Hakuri, too. The dialogue and inner thoughts leading up to this were a work of art- the reveal of Hakuri promising to overtake his dad as a kid and finally doing just that after being deemed worthless is mega satisfying (and another sign his arc is complete, but I choose to live in delulu land). However, it was the Daddy Issues theme that really stole the show for me this chapter.

Chihiro's conversation with Kyoura really drives home the irreconcilable differences they have on what it means to be a father, or even a family in the first place:

The Sazanamis are just a "clan" to Kyoura. A group of people dedicated to hosting the Rakuzaichi before anything else. Blood ties are only worthwhile for passing down Isou and the storehouse ability; there's no love lost between any member. And Chihiro most definitely does not agree with that mentality. We're constantly reminded of his rebuke about Kyoura's "best" being belief in Hakuri for a reason...

... because he is the antithesis of everything Chihiro believes a father should be. Chihiro's got some personal beef with this guy beyond reclaiming Shinuchi after seeing how he treats his kids. (This guy gets attached to people and starts killing for them right away if they've got dead or abusive parents… we love to see that empathy being manifested as murderous intent.)

This sequence killed me though:

Kyoura is paying the ultimate price for not loving his kids like a real father should. He's fucking toast because he stopped believing in Hakuri. Chihiro's outlook is validated in this victory, as is Hakuri's entire existence. Obviously there's a lot more still going on with the auction itself but it's almost mission accomplished and emotional catharsis achieved for Hakuri. Then we see the biggest message of this arc so far when Kyoura hides himself in the floor to keep the auction going at all costs… fanatical devotion at the expense of love leads to a Bad End. It's sad to see this guy put his whole being into selling a sword, man. He's dying and his only thought is to finish the auction. Not to seek help from his kids or even check on them, not to spare some dying words for Hakuri or the Tou or anyone else. He doesn't even question the life he lived that led to this point like you'd seen in other manga- Kyoura isn't shaken one bit by his untimely demise. He only cares about giving the highest bidder their merchandise.

That's the lesson here for Chihiro. He's hellbent on revenge right now- gather the swords, fuck up the Hishaku clan that killed his father. But losing himself in it will leave him no better off than Kyoura; even if he succeeds, he'll die alone in the end. His devotion to revenge is as strong as Kyoura's is to hold the auction. Both are rooted in their family's ideals and upbringing as well. Chihiro's saving grace is that he was raised with love and knows how to care. Forgetting all that, or giving that up to see his plans through will be a bad sign for his development. The people close to him will have to keep him centered or else he'll see the same terrible end (as much as it's possible; he's a very sad and broken boy). And we the reader will expect someone to be there to remind him of his humanity if he starts to show shades of this in future arcs. This very chapter, Hakuri had to encourage Chihiro to kill his dad even after he'd already asked him to do it- Chihiro's a kind guy even when he's in a fight to the death. This is precious. He can't lose this quality- we should be very alert for anything that hints at him starting to do so, because that will be the start of a very, very rough arc for him.

What about Hakuri? Well, he's been thoroughly vindicated ever since he awakened to his abilities; this whole raid has been his self-redemption arc. His character will probably be pretty complete once this is done, though there are lots of avenues to explore with him if Hokazono-sensei hears our pleas and keeps him around. He could have lingering trauma that needs to be healed- killing his dad won't help him escape his own demons after all. He's got a learning curve ahead to master his newfound abilities too. And perhaps even after finding his strength, he's still too hard on himself and needs someone to keep pushing him forward. Maybe once his life's mission is done he'll struggle with some dark emotions and need someone to help pull him out. There are plenty of little things to delve into with him to help us gain more insight into Chihiro! Please I'm so desperate to keep him around Hokazono-sensei for the love of god don't separate these boys. They're perfect supports for each other and as we all know, boys who suffer together should find solace together. If Azami/Shiba and Hiyuki/Tafuku can be foil pairs so can Hakuri/Chihiro! (Fuck me, I'm too invested already…)

Anyway. Kagurabachi continues to be peak fiction and I can't wait for what we'll see next week. If Hakuri becomes a permanent crew member I will glady put the clown suit away and start huffing copium that we'll see enough success to get an anime adaptation. I might even start writing fan fiction again (horror). If not, well... he'll still be dear to my heart. Peace out Bachibros who read this nonsense and stay tenoí.

[creativemessbyvd]

FIC IDEA VAULT #17 - RadioApple Hercules AU

@fanby-fckry is an enabler XD Their post about their idea for a Little Mermaid AU forced my hand to actually write down this idea! Originally I had the inspiration from this Tiktok!

So, this is an inspired by Disney's Hercules AU, we will follow cannon for season 1 loosely and then we take off from there, and yes, the tiktok scene will be there! I have lots of ideas already down, including a general idea of how each chapter will go. So far, aiming for 8 (?) chapters, which will have not only Alastor's POV but also Lucifer's and others as they become relevant. I want to incorporate the ideas I already have for my own Hellaverse (which I will also use for my Alastor centric fic) which include the Sins being ride or dies for Lucifer, Roo as the main villain, lots of bonding amongst the cast and some cameos by the Helluva Boss crew! I don't plan to make this be straight romance, I want them to be friends first before Alastor starts caring more for Luci, and I'm also trying to keep him as faithful as I can be to his Ace Identity (which is a spectrum! Please, no harrasment over this, but if anyone would like to help me out to make sure I don't screw Al or offend anyone, please let me know! I would really appreciate the help!)

I am swarmed by work, and this has been the worst week for me in a while, I can feel the depressing thoughts around, but talking about my aus, or any of my fandoms always helps! I hope to work on this and publish soon, but I do want to have some chapter written before posting to Ao3. So, without further ado, I leave you with the main summary and two snippets from chapter one! I'm sorry for the errors, I will fix them up for publishin the full story on Ao3! Enjoy!

At least out loud, I won't say I'm in love (Hercules Radioapple AU) by Vesta Dragon

Tasked with getting closer to the King of Hell after the last extermination, Alastor the Radio Demon tries his best to show the king the attention which is plain to see the fallen angel craves. But as they spend time getting to know each other in the most antagonistic and less romantic way possible for Alastor's peace of mind, he finds his mission shifting when shown what a capable ruler Lucifer can be, alongside his softer side that still shows the angel he never stopped being. Lucifer knows that getting along with Alastor will keep Charlie happy, and keep one less headache away from him as he takes the reigns of his kingdom back with the help of his closest friend, Satan, who is now on a mission to make sure both him and Charlie are in top shape for any upcoming battle Heaven will surely start. His heart will be his doom, as he feels himself growing closer to Alastor, but will their love be enough to stop the threat lurking far below Hell? Or will her millennia-old plans finally come to fruition, so the Root of All Evil can finally rule it all as the planets align?

Chapter One Teaser under the cut!

God was created to bring balance to the Universe, and he in turn created Angels, his first and most beloved was Lucifer Morningstar… The story of the Garden of Eden is one I'm sure you are all familiar with, but what you probably didn't know was that it skipped over a lot of details. Lucifer always thought that keeping Humans always happy and in the dark, meant they would never get to their full potential. He befriended Lilith, the first Woman, and they fell into a quick and deep love.

Charlie Morningstar was interrrupted by the loud entrance of Angel Dust, the spider demon carrying around a cooler from which he passed around beverages to the visitors sitting in front of the princess in the Hotel's second entertainment room.

"Boooooriiiiing! Charlie, I swear if you tell us the detailed history of all of creation, I'm taking everyone on a tour of my favorite clubs!"

Finished with his task, he took the main couch, sitting for once, not splayed out but definitely confidently enough that it drew some curious eyes, though they quickly turned away as he swept his gaze around. He took from the cooler two extra waters and passed one to Charlie, who accepted despite looking scandalized at his suggestion.

"Angel, you wouldn't dare!" "Oh, but I would! Who wants to go dancing?" At the raised (albeit nervous) hands that went up, he smirked at the princess who huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Well, what's wrong with giving them all the details?" Charlie shuddered to think were her charges would end up, so she admited that maybe her story would need to be told differently than to how she prefered to remember it. "For one, it would take us way too fucking long to go over everything. Let's go for the more fun version! You gotta know when to give the right details." He made sure to wink at a couple of people, the majority laughing as he riled the princess up.

"We are not sharing anything explicit!" That would be worse than the clubs, as she was about to continue her point, she was interrupted again.

"Is Charlie going to tell the Story? I wanna help!" Nifty had jumped from behind the couch Angel sat at, no one having heard her skittering around until she had made herself known. She proceeded to jump over the couch, landing on Angel and kicking him slightly before settling in beside him.

"Ouch, Nifty! Careful with my arms!"

"Hehe, sorry Angel!"

"Oh, this will be fun." Vaggie had come due to all the shouting, wanting to make sure everyone was being civil. She had known Charlie had plans to share the story, and she was glad she wasn't the only one who knew the princess had to be watched so avoid her rambling to their guests for 5 hours. She loved her, but she knew Charlie tended to go overboard, especially with this.

"Hi sweetie! Come sit here with me, we can share the loveseat." Charlie relaxed upon seeing Vaggie, and made sure to give her a kiss as soon as the fallen angel sat down beside her.

"Can you two stop with the lovey-dovey public displays, let me get my coffee in first." Yet another interrupting, this time from the resident bartender, who was carrying two takeout cups of coffee, one of which he gave to Angel, despite Nifty's attempts to snag it.

"Husk, I'm surprised that you aren't drinking a beer." Vaggie smirked, knowing that usually, the stoic bartender tended to leave the tours to the others and kept to the quiet of the bar. But it was obvious why he had come, as Angel patted his legs.

"Oooh Husky, my lap is open if you want a seat."

"I'll take the floor, otherwise we won't get to the end of the story."

"C'mon you two! Seriously?!" Vaggie was infurated now, she had hoped they had at least some decurum to save it for after the tour was done.

"I meant he would loose circulation on his legs, I ain't as light as Nifty over there." Husk laughed softly, winking at Angel as he took a seat between his legs on the floor.

"Can I sit on your lap, Angel?"

"Sure, Nift."

"Oooooookaaaay, is everyone settled? Can I continue?" Charlie was more aware now of the time constraints, but she was glad to have the company. It was always more enjoyable to have the story be told with input from everyone.

"Yes, but keep it light on the start, we want to get to the good part this century!"

After their fall from Heaven and Earth, Lilith and Lucifer began working on making their prison more comfortable. As others, like the Sins and the Ars Goetia, slowly filled Hell, as they newly appointed King and Queen, they held a party. And someone new arrived to them. She was lovely, yet she was no former angel. Her power left everyone speechless. Her name was Roo. She welcomed everyone, but especially the new King. She had seen it all, and she had to thank him for letting her be born. She was evil personified and she had a proposition. She could help them get revenge upon eveyone who had forsaken them. And while some saw this as a great opportunity, Lucifer refused.

"Fighting Heaven will bring us nothing! I prefer to make the best of this here, were I have my freedom, despite being in my own prison. Let them deal with it all, I thank you for the consideration, but it would be foolish for us to go to war when we know we will lose." Roo smiled, she tried again to entice him, but he wouldn't move. His powers, which he knew she craved, he would not give her. Roo bid them farewell, making sure they knew she could be found at the deepest part, where the river of souls ran, if they ever changed their minds.

She returned to her domain, deep into Hell, to the parts that no one had ever ventured to. She stood now in her home, a castle of darkness that towered over everything. She climbed until she came to her work room, on its center a stone basin filled with a clear swirling liquid. From it she could see the present, past and future. She had used this to her advantage to make sure her influence had sparked the first sin of man. The free will of the humans meant that she now was present up on Earth, but it also crippled her once vast power. Her future vision would never be as it once was, nor could she force the fallen who now ruled Hell to make her biding. She needed more if she was to wreck havoc as she was promised, gazing into the hazy future in which she ruled it all. She could be patient, someday she would have her revenge.

| Line break |

Alastor the Radio Demon could tell that he was utterly fucked, and he could count on one hand his whole life's (and afterlife's) regrets. Babysitting an overexcited and touchy princess and her entourage was something he deeply regretted, as he watched Vaggie run around trying to film the Hotel an annoying television commercial. He honestly thought his own was pretty favorable, but the Princess thought otherwise. As she went to her meeting, her girlfriend now scrambled to put something together with no experience. He could let her keep on trying, ultimately failing but he needed to keep the Princess as happy as possible, and this was something he would have to endure.

After all of that work only for the commercial to be cut off to the news that Heaven was going to come back earlier? He knew his boss was laughing at him. The next few months brought little change. After this, he saw Charlie welcome in another patron, Sir Pentious had tried to be a thorn at Alastor's side, but like the television demon he took orders from, neither could actually cause any harm; like a toy knife, both were only mildly threatening in appearance. His meeting with the Overlords helped him be closer to his end goal. The months flew by, and still, nothing was going the Princess' way, and she was forced to call her father.

And Lucifer Morningstar ended up coming. To HIS HOTEL. The former Angel went so far as to compare him to a bellhop and Alastor was so close to unleashing everything on the pompous asshole. Thankfully, he managed to take his anger out on the loan sharks Mimzy brought, but he still had to dismiss her, more forcefully than he would have if he hadn't already been so on edge. He was fuming by the end of the day, not only had he been humiliated by Lucifer, Husk knew of him being on a leash, and Heaven would soon come. He unleashed his anger once in his room, thankful for the small mercy that his room opened into his own private bayou and no one would be aware of his (frankly childish) tantrum, and suddenly he felt it in the sudden stillness of the air, and deep among the trees, the one who owned his sould appeared.

Roo was not that taller than Charlie, yet the front was just to spite him. he knew, seeing he still towered over her but she held all the power to bring him to his knees, like she did now.

"Alastor, sweetheart! Interesting day?" She sat on a tree stump that formed into a throne. Alastor hated every minute of it but he obediently knelt by her feet, levelling her with his worst glare.

"Roo, you said he wouldn't leave his isolated hole." She laughed and smiled almost as wide as him.

"I said he wouldn't come out without proper reason, Charlotte finally reaching out to him I guess gave him the strength to try for the first time in years." She was looking at her nails, utterly unbothered by this. Her ability to see aspects of the future irked him when she kept information like this from him.

"The fucking Devil will unravel everything I have worked for here." He seethed but Roo just laughed, a shrill sound that hurt his sensitive ears.

"Oh, Al, don't be so pessimistic, darling. I need you to trust me." She reached out to take his face in her hand, squishing as he growled, static becoming more prominent around him. "This is needed, taking out that pompous asshole up in Heaven will leave my darling Lilith in the perfect spot to worm her way in, you have to trust me."

"Charlie will draw a target on her back if she goes to Heaven, and it will lead the Hotel to be in danger." All his hard work, gone if Adam himself lead the charge to the Hotel.

"Well, that's why you are here, correct? Al, trust me, everything is going according to plan. Make sure to use our little golden ticket to make a deal with the Princess, I will need her to complete my plan." He avoided yelping in pain as she dug her fingers into his face, her other hand making sure to spread his smile wider, to the point it hurt more than usual. Her tone grew dark, and suddenly Alastor could feel the chain around his neck tighten as her voice echoed everywhere in the bayou. "And don't lose your temper with Lucifer again, I don't have the time to get another puppet if he decides to smite you."

With that, she threw him to the floor and as soon as his head had stopped spinning, he looked up to find her gone.

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 24

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, 18+/Explicit

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18 l Ch. 19 l Ch. 20 l Ch. 21 l Ch. 22 l Ch. 23

Chapter 24 summary: The squad searches an abandoned facility for clues to the whereabouts of the missing clones.

“So…how was it?” Wrecker demanded exuberantly, clapping Crosshair on the back hard enough to shove him forward a few feet. The sniper glared at his brother, huffing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted. He did, of course—Wrecker could only be referring to one thing. Crosshair was actually surprised that Wrecker had managed to hold back on the subject for this long, chatting away about nothing in particular the whole morning while they searched for any clue as to what the Empire had been doing here.

Now, as they waited for the others to join them outside the abandoned facility, Wrecker had apparently finally deemed it the right time to gossip. It was just Crosshair’s luck that he was stuck with the two nosiest members of the squad—barring, perhaps, Omega. Hunter had already scolded him, and he suspected he wouldn’t hear another word about it from him unless the Sergeant felt like it had become disruptive for the team. Tech would surely make a snarky comment or two, but he wouldn’t expect to receive any information directly from Crosshair, preferring to observe and come to his own conclusions. No, it was Wrecker and Echo who were the problem, and already Crosshair could tell by the look on Echo’s face that he was relishing the opportunity to pry. Sure, he would act all innocent and embarrassed as long as Omega or Dara herself were around, and maybe he wouldn’t want every sordid detail, but the ARC was a busybody, and everyone knew it.

In fact, Echo and Wrecker were exchanging gleeful looks right now, their grins positively wolfish.

“Oh, I think you know, Crosshair,” Echo teased. “It took you two long enough. Thought the Marauder might blow up from the amount of sexual tension. Felt like we were losing oxygen in there the last few weeks.”

The sniper crossed his arms and looked away sullenly.

“Aww, come on, Crosshair! You should be happy! We all know ya like her.” Crosshair just barely managed to sidestep Wrecker, who was reaching out for what was likely to be a bone-crushing hug.

“No, I don’t,” he muttered petulantly. “It was just sex.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Sure it was.”

“Piss off,” Crosshair growled. “I mean it. In case you forgot, the person you all thought she was is a lie. In reality, she’s stubborn and hotheaded and she spied on us. Not to mention, Wrecker, that she shot you.”

Wrecker rolled his eyes and gestured accusatively. “Yeah, well, you shot me before too! And that time wasn’t a stun!”

“That’s not the point,” Crosshair snapped. “The point is that we hate each other and last night was nothing but a chance to finally let all that out. It was a quick, rough fuck in the woods and that’s all.”

Echo grinned slyly and cleared his throat. “Oh? How quick?” He managed to dodge the shove that Crosshair aimed at him, but not the toothpick that the sniper flicked at his face.

Wrecker, on the other hand, knit his brows together in concern.

“So…it wasn’t good?” he asked.

Crosshair scoffed, then let a smirk just barely lift the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t say that.”

Echo guffawed, and Wrecker brightened considerably, the grin returning. “Knew it.”

The sniper inserted a new toothpick and rolled it from one corner of his mouth to the other, his scowl returning. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Won’t happen again.”

Wrecker frowned. “Well, if it was good, then why not?”

Crosshair stared off in the direction of the facility, avoiding his gaze. “She’ll never be able to look past what I did with the Empire.”

“You’ve changed since then, Cross,” his brother insisted gently, resting an oversized hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll see it.”

The sniper rolled his eyes, unable to come up with a retort and uncomfortable at his brother’s all-too-typical display of vulnerability and emotional support. He was relieved when they were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the squad, though he took care to avoid looking anywhere in Dara’s direction.

If he had hoped that finally fucking would get her out of his system, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he was worse, feeling drawn to her like a magnet so that he had to make the conscious effort to face toward the facility. The memory of her breathily moaning his name last night kept intruding into his thoughts.

With any luck, Hunter would continue to keep them separated as they searched the building, like he had split them into separate groups to scout this morning. Crosshair, still feeling the overwhelming urge to turn back towards her like a compass finding north, was certain that if they were alone together again he wouldn’t be able to resist touching her. He wasn’t prepared yet to find out if, after last night, she would even let him.

Hunter came to stand beside Crosshair and considered the building thoughtfully, no doubt tuning into his enhanced senses to assess the situation they were about to enter. “I’m not getting anything. Tech?”

“I am not scanning any heat signatures,” Tech affirmed from somewhere behind them. “This facility does, indeed, appear to be abandoned.”

“I hope it’s not ’cause of a giant monster or something. It always seems like it’s ’cause of a giant monster,” Wrecker groaned.

Tech blinked. “I have found no information to indicate that to be a concern on this planet, but much of its flora and fauna remains uncatalogued, so I am unfortunately unable to rule it out.”

“That’s real comforting, Tech,” Echo muttered.

The group approached the door cautiously. “Power’s out,” Hunter noted. “Wrecker?”

Grinning, the demo expert gave the panel a few well-placed hits from his large fist, denting it until it shifted out of place so that he could pry it open easily. The men activated their helmet lights while Dara and Omega pulled glowrods from their packs before proceeding into the darkened hallway.

“We shall have to restore power to see if we can access any information about this facility’s purpose,” Tech informed them.

Hunter nodded. “You and Echo go on ahead. We’ll do a sweep and see if we can find anything else useful.”

After the pair departed, the rest of the group took their time checking each room carefully, gleaning what information they could. The facility was not old, but the Empire had already been gone long enough for dust and debris to settle eerily in its corners. Some areas had been cleaned out entirely, leaving only faded outlines where equipment once stood, like ghosts imprinted along the walls. In others, state-of-the-art technology lay broken and derelict, unworthy of salvage. Their first clue as to the building’s purpose was revealed in a room still crowded with metal gurneys, the shattered remnants of broken vials, and chemicals gleaming in stoppered beakers.

“Woah,” Omega breathed. “I think this was a lab. Or some sort of medical center, maybe.”

Crosshair was staring hard into a corner of the room. “Is anyone else seeing that?” he asked.

“What is it? The rest of us can’t see everything you do, Cross,” Wrecker reminded him.

“Something’s…glowing,” the sniper explained.

“Hang on.” Dara fiddled with the settings on her glowrod until it emitted UV light, and the rest of the group was suddenly able to see the faint blue glow coming from the direction that Crosshair was facing. Amid a pile of shattered glass, one vial was cracked but remained intact, preserving the bright blue liquid inside. Dara stooped and carefully retrieved the vial, holding it up for the others with a knowing glance.

“This remind the rest of you of anything?”

Hunter furrowed his brow. “The chemical from the vault,” he pointed out, just as Crosshair murmured, “The river.”

Wrecker frowned. “What river?”

Crosshair hadn’t entirely meant to say it out loud. When Tech had launched into an explanation of bioluminescence as they were passing over the river yesterday, the daylight meant that its glow still wasn’t visible. Only he and Dara had seen it last night. The image of a nude Dara, haloed in blue, came into his mind unbidden. He shook away the thought as he explained, his voice clipped.

“Near the camp. There’s a bioluminescent river. It glows blue at night. Tech told us.”

Around them, the facility suddenly shuddered to life as the overhead lights came on.

“Indeed, I did tell you,” Tech informed them over comms. “That is most interesting. Echo and I are now proceeding to the facility’s records storage to determine if any data escaped being erased. It is too bad that the sample from Prium’s laboratory was lost—if we still had it, we would be able to determine if the chemicals are the same. As it is, we will have to rely on the rudimentary scan I took in the vault.”

“Ah… hmm. Well…” Dara stuttered. “I may have another confession.”

The clones in the room with her all turned to stare.

“What kind of a confession?” Echo growled over the comms.

Dara shrugged. “The vial didn’t actually get smashed. I thought it might be the project that Prium was working on for the Empire, and I was worried it might be dangerous. So I hid it. I was planning on taking it with me for us to study when I left. It’s still on the Marauder.”

“Well, that is most fortunate,” Tech replied cheerfully.

Dara looked relieved that he was taking it in stride, rather than holding it against her. “We’ll save the vial for you to match the sample from Prium’s lab, Tech,” she replied, holding her datapad up to the container. “For now, I’m sending you a scan of its chemical composition.”

Hunter just sighed and held a hand to his visor in exasperation. “Alright. Let’s keep moving,” he ordered.

The group returned to their search, but were stopped short a few doors later, when the panel slid open to flood the corridor with bright, midday sunlight. They stepped into the enormous room, whose roof and three sides were made of transparisteel. The area was divided by a series of raised beds in neat, even rows, though the soil that filled them was entirely devoid of plant life.

“A greenhouse?” Wrecker questioned.

Omega trailed her fingers through the nearest bed, swirling designs into the dirt. She grabbed a handful and gave it a curious sniff. “What were they growing?”

With a faint smile on his face at her futile mimicry, Hunter pinched his own sample and did the same, nostrils flaring slightly. “I think…they were growing that.” He gestured to Dara, who retrieved the herb they had found outside from her bag and handed it to him. He took a whiff of the plant and nodded firmly. “Yep, that’s definitely it.”

“Hey, guys,” Echo piped up over the comms. “We were able to restore some data that wasn’t erased properly. You might want to come meet us.”

Hunter held a hand up to his helmet. “There in a few,” he replied.

When the group had reunited with Tech and Echo, they all circled up, ready to report their findings. Echo’s brows were drawn together sharply with worry.

“Well, we were able to confirm that the missing clones were here,” he commented darkly. “We found a list of CT numbers. Dozens of them were being detained. But they’re not listed as prisoners—they’re listed as test subjects.” Hunter and Crosshair, who stood on either side of the cyborg, each laid a comforting hand on one of his shoulders. For obvious reasons after his imprisonment by the Techno Union, Echo was rather sensitive to the idea of experiments being conducted on sentients against their will.

Tech frowned sympathetically. “Yes. Unfortunately, the identical genetic makeup of clones makes us rather ideal for the purpose of controlling variables during the initial stages of scientific research.”

“Did you find any connection to Kumalon—Prium’s pharmaceutical company?” Dara inquired.

Echo shook his head. “We couldn’t retrieve much else—nothing on what they were testing or where the clones ended up.”

Omega frowned. “So we have some dug-up plants that the Empire was trying to grow indoors, a strange chemical that glows under UV light, and the clones are still missing.”

Hunter sighed. “We only have a few hours of daylight left. Wrecker, Tech, and Echo, search the rest of the facility in case anything else turns up. Dara, Omega and I will head back outside and look over the grounds—we might find more evidence of digging or a clue to where the clones are. Crosshair, head to the roof and check if you can see anything from a higher vantage point.”

The group separated, Crosshair searching for a roof access. By the time he emerged into the fresh air, Hunter, Omega, and Dara were exiting from the front of the facility where they had first entered. He watched through his scope as Dara and Hunter had a brief discussion before splitting up, Hunter and Omega heading right, while Dara headed left, each circling around the building’s perimeter. He did his own scan, searching the tree line that surrounded the facility for anything obviously out of place, but came up empty.

Finally, he found his scope drawn to Dara almost of its own accord. He tried to tell himself that he was just watching her back—Omega had Hunter to protect her, but Dara was alone, after all. He had pointedly kept his helmet turned away from her during their search of the facility, only allowing himself to check in on her out of the corners of his eyes. She, on the other hand, hadn’t looked at or spoken to him at all. He wondered if she could sense that he was watching her now. At the thought, he shifted his scope, checked in on Hunter and Omega’s progress—Omega was happily laughing at something as Hunter looked down on her with a fond smile—and scanned the area again.

When he turned back in the direction Dara had been walking, she had disappeared.

Crosshair forced down the uncharacteristic throb of panic clawing its way up his throat and searched again. She couldn’t have just vanished, there was no time, he must have just missed her somewhere, maybe she’d gone to check out something just inside the forest, she was—

There. Dara was scrambling her way back up over a small rise in the terrain between the facility and the tree line, looking the worse for wear, clothing coated in some sort of filth and debris. As he watched, she stood, turning and staring down at something he couldn’t quite make out, just beyond the rise. She bent over, brushing her hand against the soil, then suddenly dropped to her knees. He was just about to go against his better judgment and check if she was alright when her voice came through his comm.

“Crosshair.” It was a hoarse whisper, drained of strength.

“What happened?” He tried to keep his own tone even, although that inexplicable feeling of panic had not quit.

“Do you have eyes on Hunter and Omega?” Dara choked out. “Are they far from my position?”

With difficulty, Crosshair tore his scope away from the scene before him for long enough to locate the others.

“They’re still on the other side of the facility. What happened? Do you need help?”

Dara was facing away from him; her shoulders trembled, and he could hear a few shuddering breaths. After a tense moment, she stilled, and her breathing returned to normal. He heard a beep as she switched over to the open comm line.

“Hunter,” Dara began, voice now far steadier, although she stumbled over a few of her words. “I found—I found the missing clones. They’re dead.”

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

Author's note: I think it's a fun idea to imagine that Crosshair's enhanced eyesight includes being able to see part of the non-visible spectrum.

[denim-mixtapes]

Aren't We All Sinners? - Vol. I: The Good Girl's Guide to Secular Music

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Summer 1991, you're home from college and questioning everything you were raised to believe by your preacher father. When another fight leads to you storming out of the house and driving aimlessly, you stumble upon a record shop and a man who would change life as you know it for good. -- OR -- Eddie Munson teaches you that there's more to music than praising Jesus. Warnings: WHOLE SERIES 18+ ONLY! For this chapter, only adult language and a bit of Eddie being a perv. More warnings to come as they become relevant.

[Series Masterlist] [Mixtape Playlist]

It’s a tough pill to swallow, the first summer home after going away to college. The bittersweet sting of dry, over-conditioned air and watchful eye of strict parents after your first real taste of freedom. 

Coming out of your shell at university took some time. Nineteen, fresh off of two years at the local catholic junior college and a lifetime of lectures from your preacher father, you swore you wouldn’t make any waves, you were just there to get an education and that was it. What you didn’t expect was that out there, out from under your parents shadow and influence, you would be exposed to all sorts of walks of life. You found friends in people you never would have expected – or even had the chance to meet had your parents had any say – and your randomly assigned roommate challenged your beliefs and pushed your buttons in a way for which you could never thank her enough. But as soon as your guard started to drop the school year was over and you were shuttled back home to curfews and modesty and God-centered TV programming.

Now, it’s the summer of 1991 and you’re questioning more than ever. Your parents' expectations stick on you just as much as your clothing in the humid Indiana air and every ounce of freedom you tasted at school has been ripped away, landing you back in church four days a week and cooped up at home the remainder of your free time. It’s enough to drive anyone to madness. So when a childhood youth group friend invites you to lunch the next day after Sunday Service you’re thrilled for an excuse to leave the house, hopeful for some sense of normalcy in this newly foreign town. 

That hope dies the second you bound down the stairs on Monday afternoon. 

A tired grumble comes from your father behind the wall of the newspaper he’s reading. “Ain’t no way you’re leaving the house like that.” You aren’t even really sure how he saw you from behind it, but stop in your tracks nonetheless. “Go upstairs and put on something more respectable.” 

“I-I’m just going to meet up with Janie,” you stutter, pulling the frayed hem of your denim shorts down as far as they’ll go. The garment had been a gift from your roommate, one of her many hand-me-downs that she passed on to you when you tried to go to a party with her wearing a turtleneck and midi skirt. “I don’t need to be in church clothes.” 

The corner of the paper folds down, one bushy eyebrow raising at your defiance. “Did I say church clothes?” You want to protest, you want to brush past and just run out the door, but the pout on your lips and slump in your posture earns you another stern warning. “I won’t tell you again, young lady. When you go anywhere outside of this home, you represent the church and our parish, so I don’t care if you’re going to the mall or the Met, you will be covering more skin than that.” 

You respond with a stomp on the bottom step, much more childish than you’re known to be, but if he’s going to treat you like a child you may as well get to act like one. From the kitchen, your mother calls out to listen to your father without so much as a glance at either of you. 

Back up the stairs, bedroom door slamming behind you, you shimmy out of the shorts and into a knee length, fluttery skirt and pantyhose. It’s soft contrasted against your hardened, angry features and billows behind you as you descend the stairs again, not even bothering to hear what either of them have to say before you slam yet another door behind you. 

In your car you take out your anger on the radio, punching at the buttons and silently willing any station to come in, but the antenna has been broken on the God forsaken thing since you bought it, so you give up and opt for shoving the only tape you own into the cassette player. From crackling speakers Rich Mullins croons about how awesome God is, the words settling uncomfortably in your ears, and you slap the eject button just as quickly as you put the tape in. The rest of the drive is shrouded in silence except the engine rumbling under the hood and wind whipping in from open windows. 

The drive is aimless. You know where you should be headed, but with your mood already soured the last thing you want to do is sit through shallow small talk and hang on the nostalgia of Church Camp memories. Janie is a sweet girl, though, and she doesn’t deserve to get stood up, so at the sight of a payphone you pull over and pray that she hasn’t left home yet. 

“Hello, Peterson residence, this is Janie,” she answers, bubbly and polite as ever, on the third ring. 

“Hey, Jane,” you say, voice tight and tired, and identify yourself. 

“Well hi, stranger!” She says, south Georgia twang and sweetness still saturate her voice even after 12 years in Indiana. “I was just headin’ out to meet you!”

“That’s why I was ringing, actually. I think I might have to take a rain check.” 

“Oh no! You feelin’ okay?”

You sigh into the phone, guilt already setting in at the worry in her voice. “Yeah, Janie, I’m fine. I just- the heat’s getting to me and I’m in a foul mood–” neither untrue. The telephone booth is steaming up from your humid breath, sweat beading along your hairline. “– and I don’t think I’d be very good company.”

Her hesitance is clear, but she relents. “Well, I doubt that, but… if you’re sure.”

Making quick work to end the phone call, you’re blessed by a light breeze when you step out of the booth. Feeling the heat trapped under your skirt, you roll the waistband twice to feel more of the breeze on the tacky skin behind your knees and weigh your options. 

It’s hot, and you’re heated. The best option objectively is to head home and enjoy the air conditioning, or maybe take a dip in the pool, but the thought of facing your parents again without any time to calm the storm in your head is more unbearable than the sun beating down on your shoulders, so you get back into your car with a huff and decide to just drive. 

Approaching the edge of town, right when you’re thinking about turning back, you come across a strip mall you can’t recall ever seeing. Surely it’s been here some time with its crumbling brickwork and missing shingles, but growing up you didn’t venture too far outside your neighborhood or that of your father’s church, so this side of town is unfamiliar to you. 

Gravel crunches under your tires as you pull to a stop under a darkened streetlamp and look around. Nothing stands out too much as you wander the sidewalk storefronts. Nothing until Camelot Music. 

Bright white glittering letters hang above the doorway boasting the store’s name, and the bulbs behind the ‘t’ flicker with age. The front door is propped open with a sizable rock, a heavy, thrumming bassline inviting you in to curiously peer at the shelves lined with colorful record sleeves and bright signage. At the very least you can get some new tapes for your car, then this excursion could be considered a success. 

The song changes as you step into the store, an impressive, tinny guitar solo opening up the song. It’s good, not something you’ve heard before but you can’t help but nod your head along as you browse the shelves. You see artists your friends have tried to introduce you to and thumb across the covers, but none of them stand out. Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Culture CLub, they were all definitely better than the worship music you’re made to listen to at home, but none of them sat with you as well as the song that’s playing over the store’s sound system. 

From the moment you enter his store, Eddie is captivated. Spine straightened and brow lifted with interest. The scent of your perfume came wafting in with the wind, something sweet and fruity and oh, so enticing. 

He doesn’t jump into customer service mode just yet, instead choosing to observe, see what artists you approach. See if you’re sure of your direction before he comes on too strong. 

Watching you wander through what he likes to call the ‘cookie cutter aisle,’ his eyes are drawn to the movement of your skirt, the hem brushing at the soft skin just above your knees, the tension in your calves when you tiptoe to read the titles on the top shelf, the anxious fiddling with the gold pendant on your neck, though he can’t see what it is with his distance. 

He has to get closer. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” A voice from behind startles you. 

Instinctively, your hand goes to the crucifix on your neck, clutching it comfortingly as you jump and turn to face the sole employee of the store. 

All signs point to danger with this man. Long, dark, unruly hair hangs in his face as he leans toward you, a hand on the wall beside your head and a smirk on his lips. Snug, ripped jeans and tee shirt with a devil on it cling to his frame, no sign of a uniform except for the name tag that reads ‘Eddie the Banished’ and he’s weighed down with silver. Countless heavy rings and chains adorn him, a stud through his eyebrow and a hoop in the opposite nostril. Ink stains most of the skin you can see. He looks like mischief personified, but he’s looking at you with the biggest, softest brown eyes and his expression softens when he notices your tension. You swear you can see his eyes fall to your chest, but when you smooth the cross back into your skin and drop your hand, those round eyes flick back up to yours. 

“Oh, uh,” you stammer, then point toward the ceiling. “Yeah, actually. Who is this? I really like it.” 

Shock paints his features, his brows shooting up with amusement and he laughs. “What kind of a rock do you live under?” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug, your arms wrapping around your middle defensively. “It’s Guns N’ Roses, here,” he beckons you down the aisle, past a few genres, and stops in front of a sign marked Hard Rock. You follow his gaze as he scans the shelf before finding the tape in question, plucking it off of the rack and pressing it into your hands. “Appetite for Destruction, their debut album. Sweet Child O’ Mine is the song on now, but the whole record is pretty fuckin’ good.” 

Eddie takes note of the way that you flinch at his swear, but still offer him a smile in thanks, and banks it in his memory alongside all of the other things about you that drew him in. The gold crucifix that rests against your collar. The bruise on your thigh that he shouldn’t be seeing, but he is, because your waistband is rolled and bunched up, shortening the skirt. The way your chest heaves rapidly, the way he can practically see your anxious pulse in the vein running up your neck. The tiny dart of your tongue as you wet your lips nervously. 

You’re a total stranger, a ship passing through, and he wants to ruin you.

“Cool,” you mumble, looking away from his stare and at the shelf of tapes. “Do you have any other suggestions that are similar?” 

A ring clad hand comes to rest on his chin as he thinks, a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “I could come up with a ton for you if you give me some time to think, but off the top of my head...oh!” He snatches another title off of the wall and hands it over, “Mötley Crüe. I’d recommend anything of theirs but this is their best album to date.” 

You look down at the cassette in hand, bold, red letters titling the album Shout at the Devil. You have half a mind to put that one back, already hearing your father’s claims of devil worship and sin swimming around in your head, but ultimately decide to just go for it. You nod to the man, Eddie, in appreciation and brush past him toward the counter. 

He prays you don’t feel his eyes on your backside, or the skin exposed by a run in your stockings and the way the material cuts into your skin, making a little roll that he can’t stop thinking about sinking his teeth into. He stands back, distracted, until you reach the counter and turn his way again and he hurries to join you behind the register. 

Register beeping as he types in your items, he asks, “So why the sudden interest in rock, hmm?” He prompts, bagging your items and pushing them toward you. You hand the cash over and he continues, “Wham! just not doing it for ya anymore?” 

“I don’t…know who that is,” you admit sheepishly, savoring the laugh it draws from him, even if it was at your expense. “No, um, actually, hold on.” Digging in the bag, you open both tapes and peel the paper from inside the cover, shoving the crumpled cardboard across the counter. Eddie stares on, appalled that you would deface these albums so quickly.  “Can you throw that away for me? My parents will lose their minds if they see that I’m listening to anything other than worship music. That’s…why I don’t know anything about music. I’m not technically allowed to listen to secular music.” The man before you pales as you speak, straightening his posture from the flirtatious lean he had on the counter to a cautious, respectable distance. He may be a horndog…some may even go so far as to call him a pervert, but he’s not about to put the moves on a fuckin’ teenager. As you continue ranting, however, his internal monologue heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s like – I’m 20 years old for Pete’s sake. I could be living across the God forsaken country if I wanted to, but because they’re paying for my college and I’m under their roof, it’s like they think they can control my every move like a child.”

As you complain, he studies your face. The rosy, heated hue to your cheeks, the heaving of your chest as you get more and more worked up, the way your hands flutter around your face as you rant. The smirk from before takes over his face again as he leans his elbows on the counter, and you feel yourself shrink under his scrutiny. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking the bag from the counter. “You didn’t need to know all of that. It’s just…frustrating.” 

Christ, he wants to bite the pout that rests on your lips. Shaking the thought from his head, he says, “no worries. Listen, if you want more recommendations I’m happy to help. Music is kind of my thing.” 

You study those big, brown eyes cautiously, and you’re met with an intriguing cocktail of promise, sincerity, and a little bit of a warning. It’s a surprise to both of you when you nod. “Yeah, okay, thanks.” 

“Great,” he grins, waving as you back up toward the door. “Give those a listen and tell me what you think, I’ll have more for you next time you’re in.” 

You spend the rest of the evening driving around Hawkins. Wind from the open windows whips your hair around your face, lip gloss staining the straw to your coke. Accompanied by the hum of cicadas, Axl Rose serenades you through fuzzy speakers, bringing goosebumps to your skin. 

When you pull into your driveway, the sunset has painted sherbert tones across the sky, and you sit and wait for the track to end before stashing the tapes in your glove box and heading inside. 

Not even the scolding from your mother for returning home after sundown can bring you down from the floaty mood you’re in.

On your next visit you’re eager to tell him your thoughts on both albums, and he presents you with Led Zeppelin IV. “An oldie but a goodie,” he claims, pressing the plastic into your hands and then guiding your fingers closed around it with his own.

You’re back every few days, always discarding the packaging as soon as you make your purchase, always strutting around the store in those damn skirts and knee socks, soft pink and off white tops and shiny lip gloss, innocence and purity and daring him to steal a glance at parts of you he shouldn’t. Eventually, Eddie starts inviting you to stay and listen in store, instead of spending all your money. It’s not a great business tactic, but he loves the idea of you coming around more often and staying longer, and he loves getting to see the blissed out look on your face when you’re enjoying his selection of the day even more. Besides, you always end up buying at least one new album for yourself every visit anyway. So now you spend your afternoons on the little wooden stool behind the Camelot Music counter, feet kicking back and forth beneath you, making small talk and getting a heavy metal education from Eddie Munson. In between albums he inquires about your upbringing, usually through shock that you don’t know 90% of the musicians he references. He teases you for your aversion to swearing, and promises that one of these days he’ll get you to say ‘fuck.’ You inquire on the meaning behind his tattoos. Sometimes there is one, sometimes the meaning is that he had extra money and thought it looked cool. For the most part, though, you just listen to music together and talk about the parts you liked and the parts you didn’t care so much for, passing smiles across the counter and between stacks of tapes.

On your sixth visit, he sends you on your way with his own personal collection of Black Sabbath tapes, his top 3 favorites, claiming that they mean more because they were borrowed. You’re about to walk out of the store when he stops you with a hand on your forearm. 

“So, these guys are a little heavier than what I’ve been giving you, but I know you can handle it,” his eyes flick down to where you worry your lip between your teeth. “But they’re one of my favorites. They’re a huge inspiration for my band.” 

“You’re in a band?” You ask, though you’re not at all surprised. 

“Sure am,” he boasts, thumb thrust over his shoulder at a flier on the wall that reads Corroded Coffin. Washed in grayscale, an elevated version of the Eddie you’ve come to know stands at the front of the group in a fishnet top and leather pants, electric guitar slung low on his hips and dark makeup lining his eyes. Normally you’d laugh at the sight of someone you know dressed like that, but on him it works. “We’ve got a gig out at the Phoenix in Muncie this Saturday. If you end up liking Sabbath you should check us out.” 

“Oh, I’m-” you shake your head, laughing at your own hesitation, “is it 21 plus?” 

“Oh shit,” Eddie says, and you blink at the word. He shrugs, “don’t worry about it. They don’t usually card, and if they do I’ll tell them you’re with me.” The statement is accompanied by  a wink and a squeeze to your shoulder that has you nodding dumbly. 

“O-okay. I’ll be there.” 

With a stare fixed firmly on your behind, shameless in his attraction now that he’s gotten to know you, Eddie calls out to your retreating figure, “countin’ on it, sweetheart!” It’s only when you get to your car that you realize he’s given you four tapes. The three Sabbath ones you knew about, but tucked into the front pocket of your purse is a fourth tape, a mixtape, the title of which has you blushing and shaking your head as you pop it in and watch the permanent marker scrawled “The Good Girl’s Guide to Secular Music” disappear into the tape deck.