#I got her collar too high oops

[vanilladove]

~ get free (1/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: v suggestive w/ plot (yasssss); read at your own discretion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: unhealthy relationships, infidelity, slightly yandere(?) nikolai, dubious consent, nikolai himself is a warning lol, also sorry if the asylum! au is inaccurate

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: reader is an asylum attendant and is assigned to their newest admit nikolai gogol. ALSO this fic is heavily inspired by @/cherikolya's fic she's the one i'm running with- pls check it out and support her! also i'm splitting this up into 2 parts bc watching the aot anime has been breaking me and consuming all my thoughts, but i still want to post:( ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 2 & pt 3 here ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.7k (oops...what can i say nikolai makes me delulu)

"Nikolai Gogol. Age 26. Male. Charged with terrorism, first-degree murder, and treason among other things, but he got off with an insanity plea. Look over his file before he comes in later." The man behind the desk tossed the neat file carelessly onto the acrylic surface, exhaling boredly after giving his monotone rundown.

"I'm being assigned to him? But I already have other patients to take care of!" You inquired, fists forming at your sides as you already imagined the overtime and exhaustion you were going to rack up.

"Attendants don't grow on trees, do they? Don't assume I'll give you special treatment. Besides, I'm handing your other patients off to the new girls, so you'll be able to focus on Gogol. He's high priority." The man butted back.

Tch. You sighed and grabbed the file, mumbling a "fine" and turning to leave his office.

"Goodbye, dear." He spat it out like venom with a forced smile. You glanced back once more at the man: your boss--or rather husband--before heading out the door. You two were simply a marriage of convenience--a business transaction. In exchange for funding to build a new asylum on par with Mersault to rehabilitate criminals, your father had offered your hand in marriage to his business partner's son, who had become entranced by your beauty after seeing you once in your father's office. He wasn't too bad of a man at first, and you both related over your occupation together, but your marriage started to go sour after he realized you weren't just a pretty face or obedient wife, and it worsened after his narcissism and egocentricity started to show. He was too traditional and trapped you in his cage of rules and regulations. Even sharing the same bed and having dinner together couldn't reignite the nonexistent spark between you.

You walked back to your office and closed the door behind you before making yourself some herbal tea to calm your nerves. Laying down on the plush couch in the middle of your room, you looked through your new patient's file, trying to memorize all the details.

Nikolai Gogol, huh? What kind of person are you? You shivered reading the list of his crimes, which seemed endless and cruel.

An hour or so had passed before you heard a soft knock at your door. "Miss?" Another attendant had come to fetch you. "Your patient is waiting for you in the white ward." The white ward was where "high priority" or more dangerous patients were kept.

"I'll be out in a moment!" You called out, getting up from the couch and tidying up the space before fixing your hair and pulling down your uniform. It was a black flowy dress with puffy bell sleeves and a white rounded collar. The dress itself was a bit too short, being designed and chosen by your gross and perverted lovely husband. You walked out the comfort of your office and followed the attendant to the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Miss, this is your patient Nikolai Gogol". The attendant gestured to the tall man standing in the hallway outside of his room. He was strapped and held by two guards, with several others surrounding him holding special guns. He had a neutral smile on his face that turned upwards upon seeing you. You couldn't help but be momentarily mesmerized by the man in front of you. He wore a loose white button up and white linen pants--the standard male patient uniform--and his white hair was messily layered with a long, neat braid on his shoulder. His eyes were the most captivating to you, one emerald and full of life and the other a dull blue with a scar. Without the jester attire donned in his file pictures, he actually looked quite...handsome and prince-like?

You snapped yourself back to reality after remembering who you were dealing with and bowed slightly, just enough to stop your dress from riding up.

Observing the situation, you could sense the belligerence seething from everyone else. Not that you could blame them, the new patient was a dangerous anarchist. Your personal philosophy was always to treat the patient as humanely as possible in order to build trust and security, so you tried to not think about your new patient's file information. Just focus on diffusing the energy of the space and getting the jester to somewhat like you.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your attendant and will be taking care of you for the duration of your stay here," You looked back up and smiled gently at him, starkly contrasting the hostile glares from the other attendant and guards. "Let's get along, okay?"

Nikolai's eyes widened immediately and he tried to move closer to you. "Whaaaa! Nice to meet you, pretty miss! I can't believe such a beautiful girl is taking care of me!" The two guards forcibly stopped him from taking another step and the others pointed their guns at him.

Nikolai frowned and stopped squirming. "Hey! All I did was talk! Put those scary things away!" He giggled as the guards retracted their guns slowly and stuck his tongue out at the other attendant, who looked disgusted yet scared. He wasn't intimidated or scared at all. The guards then opened the door to Nikolai's room and placed him sitting down on his bed. Before you could follow to begin debriefing, the other attendant tugged on your arm lightly.

You turned back at looked at her. She had a fluffy blonde bob, light green eyes, and freckles. Lacey, one of the young new hires your husband mentioned earlier. "Um Miss, aren't we supposed to follow the script when interacting with patients? I thought smiling at them and speaking casually promoted unwanted feelings and was unprofessional?" You cringed, loathing that she sounded just like your husband when he was lecturing.

You shot her a fake sugary smile, "Oh, yes, I usually just take a softer approach with more unstable patients. Don't want them to stab you in the back immediately, do you?" You tried to answer lightheartedly, but your efforts clearly failed by the way Lacey had a horrified look on her face from your little joke, like it was the worst answer you could've said. You awkwardly coughed and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Right, thanks for reminding me, Lacey. It's great that you remembered the boss's words." Rolling your eyes once your back was turned to her, you stepped into Nikolai's room. You already dreaded Lacey telling your husband about you deviating from protocol and the long talk he would have with you at home.

"Four of us will be staying here to observe the debrief, Miss. This man is dangerous." You nodded as each of the four the guards stood in a corner of the room and the rest filed out of the room. You pulled up a stool and sat down, giving your new patient a run down of his daily schedule and how the asylum operated. The whole time, his eyes watched you excitedly like a puppy and he giggled and nodded frequently in between your sentences. It was strange and unsettling, but you were slightly relieved you didn't have to deal with an aggressive patient.

Scooting closer to Nikolai, you pulled out a small water bottle and a case of different pills. "These are your daily meds, Nikolai. I'll come to give these to you every morning at six before breakfast. I'll monitor your progress and adjust your dosage as time goes on." He nodded as you stood up and placed the water bottle on the stool, putting on a white latex glove and pouring the pills out into your hand. "I'm going to be administering them to you just for today. Open your mouth and don't close it until I'm done, okay?"

"Okay, missy! I'll be a good boy and try not to bite your pretty fingers off!" Nikolai perked up and giggled like a child getting candy. You mentally cringed and prepared yourself for the worst as you stepped towards him. What could you expect? This man was dangerous and had no reason to listen to you. The guards tensed up as you moved closer and pointed their guns at the jester's face. You swallowed as Nikolai opened his mouth, obnoxiously saying "ahhhhhhhh" and bouncing in his spot lightly.

Heartbeat increasing, you placed your free hand under Nikolai's jaw, thumb supporting his chin and lifted his face up slightly to you as you dropped the pills into his mouth. Mind racing and anxiousness clouding your vision, you missed the way he gaze softened. He closed his mouth and leaned into your touch more, nuzzling your delicate fingers. You swiftly pulled away, turning your head back to grab the water bottle behind you, attempting to hide the light rose that dusted your cheeks, unsure of whether it was from fear or embarrassment. Nikolai's eyes were still intently on you, so you secretly hoped he had missed that.

As you opened up the water bottle and stepped back towards Nikolai again, he shook his head. "I already swallowed them, I don't need any water, miss attendant." He opened his mouth again to show you proof before you sighed out an "okay" and tightened the cap back on. You grabbed the empty pill case before gesturing to the guards to put their guns down. They complied and two came over to slowly undo the restraints on his upper body, making sure to hold him back immediately after.

"Well, Nikolai, that's all for today. Thank you, and I--"

"Whoa, missy, you have a ring! Too bad you're already married!" Nikolai interrupted, his head poking up but quickly being pushed down by one of the guards. You cursed yourself silently as you froze in place. Since you had to move around a lot and constantly clean, you wore your wedding ring on a simple gold chain as a necklace instead. It was usually tucked under your uniform, but it must have slipped out when you were laying on your couch earlier. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tucking your necklace back into your uniform and trying to get rid of the instinctive frown on your face that appeared anytime your partner was mentioned.

"Yes, I'm married. Anyways--"

“But you held my face so lovingly just now. Won't your husband get mad? You're supposed to do that to him, not your new captive, right?"

You tightened your fists at that.

"That man…does he treat you well, pryntsesa?" Even though his head was held down, his dark gaze still cut into you, now not as innocent as it was before. You were sure the cheeky man was smirking too, taunting you with an otherwise harmless question.

You let out a fake laugh and an even faker wide smile in response, just eager to leave and go home now. Whatever charm you had your patient initially under had clearly faded away. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, Mr. Gogol." Nikolai's smirk turned down after hearing the name change, but quickly turned back up again followed by loud hysterical laughs--unbeknownst to you, who had already left his room.

"So the little ptashka wants to play games, does she?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Thanks for dinner, dear." Your husband said, wiping his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.

Shocking. Is he being...nice?

"Of course, I've already packed your lunch for tomorrow, too." You replied, occupied washing dishes and organizing the kitchen again.

"So, how was your first encounter with Gogol?" He inquired, walking over to you to put his dishes into the sink and lean against the counter beside you. You stopped for a moment, surprised he was making conversation with you today, as he usually retreated back to your shared bedroom or went to the living room to watch the news.

You were about to start until you noticed his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. You took your rubber gloves off and placed them next to you.

Oh boy, he's about to lecture me, isn't he?

"What are you really trying to say?"

He exhaled. "Well, Lacey--"

That snitch. You couldn't believe her.

"Ahhh, Lacey. The sweet young new girl you hired as extra help. What about her?" Your spouse's eyes narrowed.

"Respect your coworkers, dear. Lacey told me about your unprofessional interaction with Gogol. Smiling at a murderer and treating patients as friends doesn't exactly align with the asylum's values, now does it?" He said sternly.

"I was just trying to immobilize him. You can't exactly make a patient trust you when everyone's just shooting daggers at them, y'know?" He didn't look convinced. "Besides, this has always been my approach since I started in this field, and it's never failed me. You more than anyone should know I have the most successful recoveries among all the staff."

"Fine. Just make sure your unorthodox tendencies don't rub off on the other staff." He looked down at your neck. "And don't tuck your necklace under your uniform anymore. Don't want all the delinquents getting the wrong idea. You're off the market now" He lifted the chain of your necklace and traced the outline of the ring before letting go and walking to grab his coat and a pack of cigarettes.

"Going outside for a smoke break. You should get to bed and get some sleep for the long day tomorrow" He replied before walking out the door, your eyes following him.

You didn't miss the way he swiftly grabbed the keys and fixed his hair before leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Good morning, dove!" Nikolai chirped upon you entering his room.

"Good morning, Nikolai. Did you sleep well?" You asked softly, taking his medication out and handing it to him, along with some Ukrainian candy.

"Mmhmm, yes I did! I had a sweet dream, too, doll, but I can't tell you what it was about!" He said excitedly. Used to his antics, you only laughed in response and watched as he took his pills--still without water for whatever reason and unwrapped the minky binky candy, popping it into his mouth.

Five weeks. That was how long it'd been since Nikolai was admitted to the asylum.

Despite your initial worries of dealing with a monster, you and Nikolai had gotten along quite well. He seemed to only listen to you, though, much to the dismay of the other attendants. It was beneficial for you though, since it meant you didn't have to work overtime seeing to other patients.

Nikolai had developed a habit of calling you by anything but your name, bestowing several different pet names on you--a new upgrade from "miss" and "missy".

He also became increasingly touchy with you as well: constantly holding your hand--intertwining his fingers with yours, braiding your hair, and hugging you when he felt "cold". Perhaps you were desensitized to it or just touch starved, but you rarely complained about it. You would rather keep him happy and easy to deal with, anyways.

"Look, pretty girl, I finished all my meds!" Nikolai exclaimed as he opened his mouth to show you proof that he swallowed them all.

You gave him a friendly smile. "You aren't having any bad side effects from your meds, are you?" You found it a bit odd that Nikolai's dosage never changed, since no one could pinpoint his exact condition. It made your job easy, though, so you tried not to think much about it.

"No ma'am. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but it's all gone now!" He stood up from his bed and watched as you straightened it up--simultaneously checking for anything suspicious. There never was anything somehow.

His hands loosely wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself against your bent back and rested his chin on your shoulder, causing you to push your hands into the sheets and wrinkle the thin blanket. You let out a surprised squeal when you felt his warm breath on your ear.

"Love, can we eat breakfast in the courtyard today?" He whispered softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself blushing as you turned around and pushed him away, his hands still remaining on your waist.

"Y-Yes, N-Nikolai, we can go to the courtyard today." You said, finally stepping away to be free of his touch just for him to hold your hand. He flashed a happy smile at you while skipping out the door, tugging you along with him.

"Yayyyy! Me and ptashka are going on a date~"

"...It's not a date, silly." You replied back, blush still faintly across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You inhaled the fresh courtyard air, still holding hands with Nikolai as you walked on the cobblestone path. His breakfast to-go box and your lunchbox were on the nearby bench; you both already ate, but Nikolai basically ate most of your food, claiming the dining hall food was "stale and dry" compared to the pillowy cream puffs you'd brought.

"Wahhhh! Look at the fishies, dove!" Nikolai exclaimed, waving his finger at the koi fish swimming in the fountain. They eagerly swam towards him, probably thinking he was going to feed them. He giggled, eyes focusing in on two of the fish.

"Don't those two look like us, love?" You were snapped out of your previous trance and looked down to see a black koi fish and a larger white koi fish together cuddling into each other.

"Oh, I guess they do. Because of our uniforms, right?" You looked back up to Nikolai to see him frowning and still staring at the fish.

"No, dove, because they're in love..." He said lowly, to the point where you almost couldn't hear him. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you and cupped your face gently.

In love? Us?

Eyes widened, you felt confused as you looked away, not sure how to respond or think. The sudden action caused Nikolai's hands to drop away from your face. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his disappointed face as you stammered, "We're not in lo--"

Your eyes flew open again as you felt something hard in your hand.

A bouquet of lavender roses was in your hand, with Nikolai giving you a big grin with his hands behind his back. "Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." You blushed, forgetting about what had just happened. You had always loved roses and their romantic charm.

When was the last time your husband brought you flowers?

"Lavender roses symbolize delight and love at first sight. They remind me of you." Your eyes widened again as you looked up, Nikolai turning serious and gazing at you affectionately, like you were really lovers.

You found yourself getting lost in his heterochromatic eyes. Somehow, you felt peaceful like this. Even though he was a dangerous criminal. Even though your heart was already sworn to another man.

"Thank you, Nikolai. They're beautiful." You said smiling at him, this time being genuine and not passive. You were falling into a serene state, only able to focus on him. His action had somehow touched your conflicted heart and put you in a good mood.

He laughed happily in response, pleased by your reaction. "You look lovely when you smile like that, sweetheart." He pulled your other hand back to the bench so you could sit.

"Also, you should give me a nickname, too. I have so many, but you only call me Nikolai~" He pouted, scooting next to you on the bench.

"Hmmmm...What should I call you then? Niko? 'Lai? Nikolas...?" You pondered, both of you slightly cringing at all of the options, each one sounding worse than the previous one.

"I know!" Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing your hands--still holding the flower bouquet--and clasping them together, "Kolya. Call me Kolya. That's what my close friends and family would call me!"

Family? You mean the ones you murdered? You tried to shake the thought.

"Kol--Ahh!" You cried out as you felt a deep prick on your left ring finger. You pulled your hand away from Nikolai's and dropped the bouquet, watching the blood drip down your finger and down to your thigh.

Nikolai's eyes filled with concern, "Love! You're hurt!" He rushedly rummaged through his breakfast box and his pockets, trying to find a napkin to stop the bleeding. You tried to calm him down, telling him you were fine, but he wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, he seized your left hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around your ring finger. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt him running his tongue over your finger, getting every last drop of blood and kissing the spot slowly when he finished.

Heat rushed into your cheeks as the air felt thick, no longer serene and peaceful. Nikolai's eyes darkened, and an unreadable expression fell on his face.

"There's still some there, dove." He gazed down at the blood that had dripped onto your thigh. Your stomach churned at the thought of what he would do next as he pushed you down onto the bench and brought his lips to your inner thigh, leaving soft kitten licks all over the spot and lightly groaning.

"Niko--Kolya, s-stop--" You tried suppressing the moan threatening to spill out from the contact on your sensitive skin. You tried to push him away softly, but he wouldn't stop, now pressing light kisses that travelled up your thigh to your sweet spot. He was getting close. Too close.

You pushed his head away, not trying to be soft anymore, and sat up again, moving to the far side of the bench. You pulled down your dress again to cover your now reddened thigh.

"W-We can't do this. It's wrong. You're my patient, and I'm your attendant. And..." You hesitated, regaining your composure, "...And I'm married." You said, biting your tongue. The gold necklace suddenly felt heavy around your neck, like it was pulling you down.

Nikolai laughed bitterly, "You don't love him though, myla. He's kept you trapped in a cage. Is that what you want, dove? Do you want to be trapped in his cage?"

"I--"

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere for you both. There's a group wellness activity starting for all the patients, and they're waiting on you." You turned around to hear a familiar high-pitched voice.

Lacey. The snitch new girl.

You put on a fake smile. "My apologies, I completely lost track of time. Lacey, you can escort Nikolai to the group's meeting spot. I'll be retiring to my office for the rest of the day." She nodded as you grabbed the bouquet and your lunchbox and took one last look at Nikolai before standing up from the bench and turning away, "I'll see you tomorrow, Nikolai." You didn't wait for a response back.

It felt too awkward. Everything felt confusing; you knew your place but you also wanted to be free. You liked Nikolai but you didn't know if those feelings could be considered love. You surely didn't love your husband...

All you could do was hold onto the roses and gaze up at a dove flying across the sky. For a moment, you wished to be like that dove. To be elegant, at peace, and loved.

You wished to be free.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to scan your access card and enter Nikolai's room. Today was a special day, after all.

"Good morn--"

"Love! You're finally here! I was waiting for you~" Nikolai exclaimed as he lunged towards you, burying his face into your neck. He wasn't wrong; The extra time you spent collecting your thoughts and debating going in or not made you two minutes late.

You lightly pushed Nikolai away--not before he caught your hands and intertwined them with his again--and tried to put a neutral smile on your face. "Nikolai, I have good news for you."

His face lit up as he clasped your hands and brought them towards his chest, "What is it, dove? Are you divorcing your husband and leaving him for me?" He shook your hands excitedly as you eyed him disappointingly. He really wasn't going to drop this lovesick act, was he?

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "No, as a reward for good behavior, you can choose a special place to visit and an item to keep in your room. Your options are the courtyard, the gy--"

"The library. I want a book to read." Nikolai stated, suddenly turning serious, taking you slightly aback; you didn't take him as the type to be able to sit still and read for a long time.

"Alright, the library it is then. Take your meds first, and then we can go, 'kay?" He nodded excitedly as you turned away from him to make his bed and do the usual check. Nothing suspicious, as usual.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The guard greeted you both as you approached the grand library doors. It was an old wooden room with tall glass windows that contrasted the relatively short bookshelves. It wasn't exactly a popular destination for patients, so the books were mostly dated and collecting dust. The natural light inside made it one of your favorite break spots during your trainee days, so it was a bit nostalgic for you.

"There are security cameras around the library, but radio in if anything happens." The guard explained sternly, looking over at Nikolai and then you, "Do you need assistance with your patient, or will you two be fine alone?"

You shifted your gaze over to Nikolai, who had a slightly mischievous smile on his face but maintained a serious expression. "We'll be fine alone. He'll behave." The guard nodded at you before opening the door and letting you two in. The door shut firmly and you tried to grab Nikolai's hand, but he dashed away from you towards the large stained glass window before turning to face you.

"It's so big in here, ptashka. I haven't been in a library in sooooooo long. I actually love to read, y'know?" He said, smiling and motioning for you to join him. The colorful stained glass reflected on his face, casting multicolored kaleidoscopes on his face.

You joined him, admiring his beauty momentarily before leaning against the window and crossing your arms. "I didn't know that, no. To be honest, I didn't think you were much of a reader.." You said lightly with a giggle.

Nikolai grinned back, "Heh. There's a lot you don't know about me, dove." He looked away, lowering his voice a bit, "But that's fine. You'll have plenty of time to learn everything later~" You looked at him confusedly, not quite catching what he said, but you remembered the reason you came and grabbed his hand again.

"Anyways, was there a particular book you were looking for? I know this place pretty well." He laughed in response.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I'm looking for The Overcoat. It's my favorite book." Nikolai said proudly, like he was trying to impress you with his literature selection.

"The books are sorted by last name. Do you know the author?" You asked, leading him towards the bookshelves. Nikolai just squeezed your hand and started skipping forward at a fast pace, practically dragging you behind him as he started giggling hysterically.

"Nope! Not a clue, hehe~" You paused and frowned at him. Who didn't even know the author of their "favorite" book? "The genre's fiction, though, if it helps~" Nikolai said giddily, turning towards you and swinging your arms from side to side. You sighed and slowly headed over to the fiction section. There were about 1,000 books to go through, so you weren't exactly too excited. Not that it bummed you out too much, though, since your husband had asked you to help the new girls clean if you finished early with patient duties. You supposed you'd rather spend your time with Nikolai finding his book.

You both agreed to search the shelves simultaneously, Nikolai looking on the higher shelves and you on the shorter ones. The space between shelves was quite narrow, making his chest rub against your back several times. He wasn't shy either, grabbing your hips to maneuver past you, causing you to jolt when he pressed himself behind you.

Starting to lose count of how many books and shelves you'd checked, you were falling into a tired daze until Nikolai's sudden shout woke you up. "I found it, dove! I'm the winner! Me, me, me!" You looked over to Nikolai, who now had his book in his hands, and shot him a relieved smile.

He hurriedly headed towards you as you gave him some congratulatory praise. "Guess our work's done here, then. Let's get some lunch and call it a da--"

He hugged you suddenly, making you yelp as he giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against him. He leaned in by your ear, squeezing you tighter, inhaling your scent, "Say, dove, do you still have the roses I gave you from the courtyard?" You perked up toward him as he smiled, awaiting your response.

You did. You'd placed them in a small glass vase--trimming the thorns off--and put it on your dresser. Somehow, the sickly sweet smell was stronger in your room than it was in the courtyard. "Yeah," you smiled, "They're in a vase by my dresser. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them because of how beautiful they were." Nikolai snickered at that, delighted that you'd cherished his little gift.

He slowly smirked, "Your husband doesn't give you flowers, does he?" You tensed up a bit under his arms but relaxed again, frowning and looking down.

"No, he doesn't. I think the last time was during our honeymoon." Nikolai cuddled into your neck after that, rubbing your sides like he was trying to comfort you.

"What a shame, love. You should leave him for me. He doesn't deserve you." Nikolai said, his teeth barely grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Was the space always this narrow?

"I can't. It doesn't work like tha--"

"Why not, though? Leave him for me. I'm actually perfectly sane, y'know? I know how to make you happy, how to free you from his cage..." He paused, "How to touch you..." His hands on your waist trailed down, pushing your skirt up higher.

"H-hey!" You stammered, stopping his hands from going further with your own, "We can't do this. There are cameras here." You anxiously looked around, trying to find them, but Nikolai's hand grabbed your face and pulled it back down to him.

"Shhhhhh. Stop worrying, myla. This is a blind spot. It's covered by the light, see?" He tilted your face up slowly again toward the camera, which was in fact covered by a big, dusty lantern. How convenient.

He pushed your skirt up again and grinded himself on you, and you swore you could feel his bulge pressing up against you. "You've been driving me crazy, dove, since yesterday I've only been able to think about you," he grunted, slipping his hands into your loosened dress and under your lacy bra to palm and squeeze your breasts. "The sounds you made...I wanna hear them again."

Your head was screaming at you to run away and get the guard, but you couldn't ignore the wet spots on your matching lace panties from your arousal. To be honest, you didn't remember the last time you'd been this intimate with anyone, and your body was clearly craving touch. Your breath hitched as Nikolai kissed below your ear, working his way down to the crook of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

Becoming more desperate for a reaction, Nikolai suddenly pinched your sensitive nipples and bit down on your neck, causing you to yelp in pleasure. "A-ahh K-Kolya--" The sudden impact caused you to push back against his clothed member and grip onto the sturdy shelf in front of you for support. You could feel him grinning in satisfaction, letting out a low groan.

"Mmm there's the pretty noise I wanted to hear~" Nikolai replaced his lips with his tongue, trailing slowly up and down your neck as you kept bucking against him, needing more friction. "Dove," he heaved as you mewled upon feeling his tip brush against your clit through eachother's clothes. He couldn't handle seeing you start to lose yourself. "F-fuck, kiss me".

Nikolai grabbed your hips suddenly and turned you around, so your back was against the wooden shelf. You looked up at his face; he was panting heavily, eyes filled with lust, and a few strands loose from his usual kept braid. The sight of him made your cheeks flush and your panties even wetter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, bringing one hand to his lips and tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. You gazed intently at his lips. Just one kiss will be fine, right?

Both of your noses were practically rubbing against each other as Nikolai started to dip down. "Kolya, I--"

BAM!

You instinctively pulled away as you recognized the sound of the old library door being kicked down. As the stomping of the guards' boots grew closer, you pushed Nikolai off your body and fixed your dress. Nikolai shot you a surprised glance as the guards knocked down the heavy bookshelves to open up the space around the two of you, eliminating the narrow confines. You couldn't process what was happening as five guards circled around Nikolai, drawing their guns and pointing them at him as he put his hands up. Another guard was slowly approaching you, lifting the walkie talkie up to his mouth.

"06, copy. Patient Gogol has been surrounded and apprehended successfully. We're on our way to the interrogation room," He glanced over to you, still sitting down in shock, "His attendant's here, too. We'll bring her to you, Boss."

Boss? Your husband? Shit, had you been caught?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice Nikolai being handcuffed and pushed out the door--or the way he looked back at you--until the guard put his hand on your shoulder and called out your name. "Miss, we need to get going. We'll explain everything once we're with the boss again." He helped you up as you trailed slowly behind him with a churning stomach and The Overcoat clutched tightly in your arms.

˚₊‧꒰ა part 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧꒰ა part 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #bungo stray dogs #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai smut #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs #bsd #nikolai gogol x reader smut #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol smut #nikolai x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #not me having to rewrite this twice bc tumblr didnt save properly #way too many words lol #splitting this up into 3 parts bc aot has been breaking me

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.

I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly

Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar

A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.

Lately, it’s like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadn’t missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality. 

"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.

Girlfriend. You’ve both tried to stamp out that rumor—yet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect. 

"She’s not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."

"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.

Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Dan’s hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it. 

"Oops," Eddie’s voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

Dan’s face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.

"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life.  

"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking – to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.

He never hides his interest when he likes a girl — everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But he’s never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And that’s something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else — a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. He’s just Eddie – your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.

Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.

"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.

"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.

He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "What’s this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans.  A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.

"It’s called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending." 

"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.

"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.

"I’ll drop you off, but I’ve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "I’ve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."

The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in – keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadn’t just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all. 

"I can keep you company?” You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.

He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, I’ve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I don’t see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."

"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I don’t want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he won’t budge. "I’ll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."

The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door. 

As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.

But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. It’s a gamble you won’t take. You can't lose him. You won’t watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, you’d be alone.

Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.

Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steve’s long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs. 

“My eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,” you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.

“Well, then, come stare at this screen instead.” He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side. 

“You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,” he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end. 

“Is that for the launch?” Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen. 

He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. “Yeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but we’re still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.”

“It’s going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,” you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. “Everything is going to go smoothly, you’ll see.”

He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. “I wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!” The heels of his hands press into his eyes. “All I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.” He imitates his father's stern tone, “Typical. He’s always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.” Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. “I should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now I’m running around trying to get things ready for them too.”

“Hey,” you take one of his hands between yours, “That’s not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.” 

He manages a smile, but it’s just a placation.

“What can I do to help?” You ask, “I’ll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.”

There's a pause as he weighs his next words. “I’ve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.”

Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steve’s peace of mind. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?”

He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in time–"

“No problem. I’ll make time.”

His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I love you.” He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. “I’ll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.”

“I just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.”

His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together. 

Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood.  The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump. 

"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldn’t be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. It’s still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like he’s trying to decide if you’re really there. Maybe it’s the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"

Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall. 

The lobby is in chaos.

"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space. 

The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling. 

"It’s perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. “Really beautiful.”

"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."

"Well, what can I say?” You spin around. “It’s growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise. 

"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I mean…your, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans. 

Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today. 

"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know why I’m so nervous."

The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy.  “Maybe it’s because I’m going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."

 A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.

Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you I’m not writing some hit piece. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "It’s only me." 

A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, you’re right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.

"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away.  The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why don’t you show me what else you’ve done?"

He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you." 

You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.

"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.

"I didn’t know how long you’d be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic. 

"You didn’t have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall. 

"I didn’t think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.

"I hope you don’t fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.

"I’ve got time."

"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "I’m sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."

"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "It’s gonna be good to have nothin’ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."

"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."

"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him. 

"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."

You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, and…I have Steve."

"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."

He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."

The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.

"My apartment."

"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat. 

"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"

Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.

"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. I  wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.

Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?" 

A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I don’t know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isn’t she here with you?"

"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.

"Wait. You’re serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling. 

"The one you’re photographed with constantly."

His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"

"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "She’s a friend. We go to the same group." 

"What group? The one for annoying assholes." 

He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean I’m fucking her too? Jesus."

Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"

"Maybe because it’s none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"

"I don’t," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all." 

His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."

His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "You’re a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.

"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.

"It looks like this one’s almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch. 

Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed. 

His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and I’ll be ready to start setting the levels."

"This one’s your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch. 

"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.

"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. He’s sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door  – one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but it’s time to hear him out. 

"Eddie Munson interview, part one."

"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."

He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.

Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"

"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."

"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"

"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freak– a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, we’d open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."

"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.

"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"

"No," you laugh, "And that wasn’t a red flag for you?"

"It should have been. I wasn’t with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."

"I remember,” you nod. “You’d spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school." 

"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.

"I was surprised that you left it behind." 

Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I could’ve taken with me. But back then, I couldn’t even take care of myself."

"I don’t believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."

"If I had tried, they would’ve ended up broken, and I’d‘ve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach. 

"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?" 

"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and that’s when I met Max."

"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.

"Yeah. You know him?" Eddie’s eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.

Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldn’t find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."

"That’s Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "He’d tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasn’t weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I don’t know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."

"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a charmed life."

"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.

"So Max is who taught you about engineering?" 

"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name.  "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards.  He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."

"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog. 

"I’m not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles.  "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Max’s house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapy–" 

"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.

"Don’t knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "It’s, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?" 

"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didn’t work out for me."

Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Doll–" 

"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"

"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like I’m working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads." 

Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you aren’t her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and you’ll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.

"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.

Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,” he shrugs. “Have you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I won’t shut up about. I think you’d like it there."

The girl he hasn’t bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"

"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? I’ll just be a minute." 

"Okay-"

He holds up flat palms. "Don’t go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just don’t leave."

"Eddie-" 

"I’ll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room. 

With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.

"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.

The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall.  Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half.  His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.

"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"

Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there." 

His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box.  

His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape. 

"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.

"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat. 

"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. It’s probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly. 

"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.

"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.

"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.

"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye. 

"Hey, that’s my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."

"I don’t know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."

"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."

"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger. 

"I’m keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.

"Holy shit."

You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.

"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.

"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. “Come on. Close your eyes."

"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.

"No peeking." He wags a finger.

Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.

"Okay. Open."

"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.

He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"

Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body. 

"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."

"You’re the one who dared me to," he scoffs. 

Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didn’t think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawson’s yard." 

"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.

"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."

"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."

"It was the first time I drove, and I didn’t have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."

Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."

"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You can’t get rid of her."

"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "I’ll find her place of honor around here somewhere."

"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over. 

"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "I’ll have nightmares."

You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like he’s savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for. 

The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this moment—with him.

"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot. 

"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.

"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid. 

His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads — nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle. 

There’s a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.

Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.

"They’re pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware. 

"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."

Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."

"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.

“Just hold on a minute.” He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. “Tell me what's going on.”

"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.

"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.

"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now?  After all this time? What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."

"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a ‘hey doll’,” your voice lowers to mock him, "And I’m supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"

"That’s not…I’m not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone. 

"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."

"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it mattered—all of it."

Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."

"Done what?"

"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."

"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."

"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."

He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."

Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape – to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isn’t so strong. 

"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment,  you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.

"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that you’d call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldn’t just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."

There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.

"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasn’t alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.”

“You made me hate myself."

"I’m so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. “There’s so much I want to explain to you.”

His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingers–inside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt." 

"I know. I know. I’m sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You don’t even know how much. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But you’re wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..it’s the reason…" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldn’t tell you. Things I couldn’t admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."

Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut. 

"Stop, doll," he pleads. “Let me explain,” but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.

"I made you up.”

“No.”

“The boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.

His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldn’t have had the first clue how to handle you."

"Is that why you’re back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?" 

"Damn right, I do." 

His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet — urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.

Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants — aligning himself hot and hard against your center. 

"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.

He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bag—a sharp, insistent sting—that yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered. 

Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll —"

"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.

"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair. 

"Please don’t," you plead. "Don’t ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just ch—" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.

His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."

"Eddie—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."

"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.

The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.

With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.

Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ball– six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become.  Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddie’s touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of words—cheater, adulterer, betrayer—mixed with the soft hazel of Steve’s disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain —"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.

Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot. 

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.

With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk — five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up. 

Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!

Eddie: Look, I need to know that you’re okay.

Eddie: I swear to Christ if you don’t pick up.

Eddie: Okay, have it your way. I’m driving to your place.

What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. There’s no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass. 

“I’m okay,” you breathe into your phone, “I didn’t go home. I’m at my office.”

Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest.  His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."

“I….I know,” your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. “I just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?” 

The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. “Yeah. Alright. But doll,” he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, “You’re not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.”

With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call. 

Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts you’re not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.

The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The gruff voice cuts through your misery.

"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets. 

“You listen to The Killers?” You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.

“You kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?” A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I don’t have much time. I’m meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? I’ve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. You dip it in olive oil,” he groans, “Forget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and I’m wavering on the main course between—”

“I need you to take me off the studio opening,” you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

“We’ve been over this. Unless you have some good reason–”

“Eddie kissed me,” the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.

His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, “What do you mean he kissed you?” 

“No,” you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. “I kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.”

Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you.”

“I know. I know. Steve…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk. 

Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about Harrington,” each word gains in volume, “This is about you and everything you’ve worked for. It’s 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?”

Your eyes roll. “He’s not going to complain, Hop.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. “These things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lowering your eyes. “We have more of a history than I let on.”

“Well, stop the presses. I couldn’t have figured that one out.” His voice lowers in resignment, “Maybe this is my fault–”

“No–” 

Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, “I’ve babied you. Maybe it’s because you’re my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because you’re a damn good writer. But that stops now, I’m going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.” His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. “You’re going back to that studio, and you’re going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?”

Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. “You're still going to make me finish?”

“Damm, right I am,” Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless you’re ready to come clean to Harrington?” 

Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.

“I thought so.” Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.

Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."

“It better not. I don’t want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?”

Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."

Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."

Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach. 

A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, “Busy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?”

Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.

His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. “I swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.”

Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.

He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state. 

"I didn’t get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."

For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. “Hey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?”

Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm." 

“Did you forget your coat?” He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. “You're frozen.” He uses his thumb to lift your chin. “How about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.” His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away. 

"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."

Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You don't feel hot.”

Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed." 

“If that's what you want,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. “Go on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you step away with a weight in your chest. “I'm really sorry.” 

“Don't worry about it.” He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen. 

As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell. 

The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain. 

Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clear– the music plays on.

Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series

[gatalentan]

don’t think about little melissa schemmenti playing with the toy fire truck she got for christmas dreaming about being a firefighter like her uncle & going to the public library and trying with all her being to read all about firefighters just to have her dreams and hopes crushed

"Miss Schemmenti?" a voice like a mouse squeaked out from the doorway.

Melissa looked up from her grading, flipping her glasses back onto her head. Isaiah, one of her second graders, stood in her doorway, eyes big as moons, his little fingers gripping his backpack straps like a lifeline, a tiny ball of tension. Melissa felt her eyebrows knit in the middle.

"Hey Isaiah. C'mon in." She tilted her head towards the desks in front of her and he skulked in, shoulders wrapped around his ears. He plopped down on the nearest chair, bag hitting the ground with a thump. Melissa wheeled her chair over to him, sitting on it backwards. "You ok, kid?" She asked, voice as soft as she could make it, willing him to talk.

"Umm. It's." He looked down at the desk, at his hands, the floor. He nibbled at the end of his thumbnail, working the words out of his mouth. "Well, you know how my Dad's a pilot? And my Grandpa? And my Uncle David?"

"Uhuh. You drew that great picture." Melissa thumbed behind her at the project board where a drawing of Isaiah and his family in matching pilot hats flew across a green sky.

"Dad said I won't get to fly, 'cause-a my eyes." He told the table, mumbling into his shirt collar. "'cause-a the colours being mixed up. I'm." He swiped at his face, ducking it lower so she wouldn't see. "I'm sad, I guess. I dunno what to do."

Melissa's stomach dropped, felt her whole body droop with the sheer weight of how much she could relate, suddenly felt all of eight years old herself. Squeaky wheels on a cardboard firetruck screeching along the tiled floor of her Nonna's kitchen, water pistols firing at housefires drawn in crayon, scampering up trees with her little sister to save imaginary cats. She dug her nails into the knees, gathering herself with a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Isaiah." She handed him a tissue and he took it, but was too proud to use it. "You know, Miss Schemmenti didn't always wanna be a teacher. When I was your age, I really wanted to be a firefighter, just like my uncle."

He finally looked up at her, eyes even wider, somehow. "You did? But you're… Miss Schemmenti."

Melissa laughed low in her throat. "I am now. That's not what I planned. See, back then, they didn't let girls be firefighters. I even made 'em let me do the test-" (slipped her Uncle two month's allowance for it) "-but they rejected me."

She'd aced it too, had been doing strength and cardio training for years, so sure she could be the exception, the star in track at her high school. But her best just wasn't enough, and no amount of greased palms and yelling and tears and being deserving could change things, not back then. It had taken her a long time and a deferred year of college to figure out what she'd do with her life without this piece of her that had felt so inevitable and had now been ripped away.

"But that's not FAIR." He smacked the table with his fists, then flinched at his own outburst, retreating back into himself. "Oops. Sorry. 'bout the table. And uh, you. It's not fair."

Melissa bit her lip, smiling sadly at his compassion, remembering how the sadness, the weight of disappointment, had crushed her under its rubber boot for a long time. She hated that he felt even a fraction of it. "Yeah. It wasn't fair."

She sighed, leaning forward on the back of the chair to really look at the little boy in front of her, looking up at her like she knew the secrets to the universe and could somehow fix this for him with a magic wand. It struck her, then, just how many times she'd seen that same face mirrored at her time and time again, for decades, with different noses, different hair, different eyes, but still the same. And she still knew all their names, even now, could recall them just as easy as the coins jingling in her pocket, their hopeful faces just as bright and shiny and full of potential she so desperately wanted to help them achieve some small way.

"But you know what? If I hadn't been rejected, I wouldn't be here, right? I wouldn't have met you, or all the hundreds of other kids I've met since before you were even born. Sometimes we just end up on a different path than what we thought. I love being a teacher, turns out, and I'm pretty good at it, right?" He nodded. "And I never would-a found that out if I became a firefighter."

"I guess. I just..." He put his chin on his hands, deep in thought. "I don't know what to do now. I-" he audibly swallowed, voice wobbling "I wanted to make my Dad proud. I wanted to be like him. I don't wanna be different to everybody else."

Ouch.

"I know he's already so proud of you, kid. And so am I. We've all got something that makes us a little different. Me? My eyes aren't so good either, see?" She flipped her glasses back onto her nose to punctuate her point, jiggling them up and down by the arms to make him crack a smile. "You see things in a different colour. But that's not the only thing you are. You're smart, and you're funny, and I know you got lots of friends, 'cause I've seen you guys in detention often enough." She pulled a mock stern face, and his reluctant smile peeled open a little wider. "You'll figure it out. You don't gotta know right now, you're still young, just focus on being the best you you can be, and everything will work itself out in the end."

"But my Dad-"

"Your Dad will love you no matter what you become." And she knew he would, too, had seen his big puffed out chest at the open house, how his Dad's smile had spread wide with the same gap as Isaiah had when she'd told him about how he was top of her class.

Isaiah let out a huge breath, somehow sounding bigger than his four foot frame could have possibly contained.

"You promise?"

"'Course I do." She stook out her pinkie, and he took it, both giggling. A grown ass fifty-whatever year old, giggling. Kids, man. "You feelin' any better?"

"Yeah. I think so. Maybe."

"Good." She leaned back in her chair, had an idea. "Hey, wanna know a secret?" She whispered conspiratorially, peering around like there might be a spy hidden in any corner.

"Duh!"

Melissa wheeled back her chair and ferreted around in the top drawer of her desk, pulling out a bag of leftover Halloween candy. She plonked it on the table in front of him, taking a Twix for herself. "I got contraband. Don't tell Mrs. Howard. If I cover my eyes and two pieces of candy and my best Math student aren't here when I open them, then that's none of my business."

His face lit up like the Fourth of July, and Melissa dutifully covered her eyes with her palm. The sound of rustling plastic packages, of a backpack being snatched, and sneakers hastily squeaking on the sticky floor followed, then stopped dead.

"Thanks Miss Schemmenti."

She peeped out from between her fingers, seeing him smiling back at her from the doorway, tension lifted from his little body. Before she could respond, he scampered off.

Yeah, she'd ended up where she was meant to be, even if it wasn't what she'd planned.

#anon why did you choose violence #work wives #melissa x barbara #chatalentan #✍️

[lunastarhawk]

Pin Him Down

18+ only! Adult sexy times ahead, minors look away, this is not for you!

A smutty, smutty rewrite of "I'll keep an eye on him" in Book VI Chapter 3 of Julian's route, part of the Between the Deep Blue Sea and the Devil ongoing collection of rewrites.

I opened a doc to start part 23 of ToM and this fell out instead, oops.

Part 1 - Altheia tries to give Julian Mazelinka's magic soup, but he doesn't want to sleep just yet.

Part 2 - She wants what he wants and he wants what she wants. And then she ties him to the bed.

Excerpt

His lips parted and he craned up to reach for her, but as she held him down and gave a teasing smile, he couldn't reach high enough to kiss her.  But he could move his head forward just enough to brush his nose over her collarbone.  That faint touch was enough to make her lean forward just a little more, and arch her neck back.

Julian closed his eyes as his nose tracked to the curve between her neck and shoulder; then, to the hollow at the base of her throat.  She felt his soft inhale, heard a happy hum, and the gentle vibration of his voice as he murmured,

“You smell like the sea.”

She couldn't hold back a light giggle.

“Salty, you mean?”

“Mmm, not just that.  Like you've spent your life on the coast, or a ship.”

“I do spend a lot of time at the beach.”

“That explains it.”  His hot breath tickled her throat as his nose dragged up to her pulse.  “And vanilla.  Full and sweet.  And something else… some kind of citrus?”

“I'm impressed.”  Altheia's hand slid from Julian's shoulder, up the back of his neck.  “It's bergamot.”

“Of course.  Beautiful.”  He turned his face up to her, his eye pleading but his smile sultry.  “Closer.”

She leaned forward far enough now that her breasts brushed his chest, but she pinned him now with hands on his shoulders, stopping him from arching to press against her.  She bent to the collar of his shirt, loose enough that her nose could burrow in to find the crook of his neck.

His scent washed over her, stirred something powerful in her, that familiarity, that need, stronger than it ought to be. Musk, coffee, leather, hemp, the sea. Her tongue darted between her lips to touch his skin, and then she pressed her lips there, feeling his breath shudder beneath her.  Her lips curved into a smile against him as she said,

“Salty.”

A burst of a laugh from Julian, and Altheia sat back, smiling down at him fondly.  And she bent low, her hands cupping his slender jaw, as she whispered,

“Closer. ”

She sighed into Julian's kiss.  His lips were soft, warm - surprisingly so, considering the coolness of his skin elsewhere.  Their movements were focussed, elegant, needy, but tender.  His nose pressed into her cheek, one arm snaked around her lower back, the other hand slid under her hair.

The strength of feeling that rose up in her was overwhelming and she pulled back.  Need for the closeness, for his touch.  Desire for his body, for more.  And something like… like love.  That was absurd, she knew, she barely knew more than his name.  And yet… it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

His brow furrowed lightly in concern.

“What's wrong?  I… I'm sorry, it's too much, too soon… I just…”  He bit his lip as he searched for the words, his hands restless over her arms, her back, her sides.  Eventually he rested his forehead on her shoulder.  “I want to make something real.  With you.”  He lifted his head to look into her eyes again, and there was a sad slope to his brow as his palm rested on her cheek.  “If only we had more time.”

She frowned lightly.  What did that mean?  Something real?  More time?

Still, her heart pounded and the hot wave of need rising up between her legs was insistent.  If they didn't have much time together, then…

“Let's make the most of the time we've got.”  She bent and met his kiss as his mouth sought hers.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed her mouth against him, her lips moving against his as she said, “Closer.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak fanfic #julian x oc #altheia featherstone

[acetechne]

Condensed Milk - A Dirty Money Comic pt 11

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] epilogue: [ x ] [part 12] [part 13] [part 14] [part 15]

aHA bet you weren’t expecting an External Perspective in the form of Annie Montgomery were you? ...I haven’t actually finished writing the next page which I was supposed to do while I was on winter break :’ ) so it might take a little longer than these past few pages.

Notes below

- I think Annie and Ben have an interesting dynamic which i touched on in the dominion day ep for procan. These two Atlantic island provinces both refused to join Canada in 1867; nowadays they are both struggling with aging populations, isolation, etc.

- Likewise I think Annie and Joel have an interesting relationship, they are canonically siblings for one, and having read their histories I think they have a chaotic but loving relationship that might not match the expectation. I think we tend to think of Joel as the party guy and Annie as the traditionalist, and while that may be true in their relationships with outsiders I think Annie is actually the loose cannon of the two that Joel is constantly trying to rein in a little. This is just based on the vibes I got reading about how each of them acquired responsible government, haha. Joel was the favoured imperial child while Annie was the one throwing bricks through windows.

- i am not unaware that Team Steak and Potatoes (AB/PEI) was a huge ship back in the IAMP days I just have no idea how to write it so you’d have to squint pretty darn hard :’ )

- re: annie’s outfit: i think because her day job involves larping as anne of green gables she needs a casual wardrobe that could fit in with the overall aesthetic but without being trapped in it if that makes sense (have i mentioned her internal struggle with hair dye yet?). The fox hat and clip on collar are references to the provincial animal - black and silver foxes were bred for their coats on the island around the turn of the century and I don’t doubt she still has some items trimmed with their fur.

- “slippy” and “been better but it costs more” are apparently both Islander phrases, hope I didn’t make her sound too hokey either. I’ve got to add some dialogue flavour and difference when I can; I can’t do it much for Bert because I already read his voice with High School Alberta Boy accent (a voice i don’t actually really do as his VA oops) and it drives me nuts.

- ‘provinces far younger’ okay paint a target on his forehead why dont you annie

- [WESTERN HOSPITALITY BLUE SKY BERT UNLOCKED]

- why dont you go look up shortbread on rock recipes and maybe you’ll calm down

#iammatthewian #iammatthewian project #projectcanada #project canada #iamp: alberta #iamp: newfoundland #iamp: prince edward island #pc: alberta #pc: newfoundland #pc: prince edward island #ralph campbell #benjamin o'reilly #annie montgomery #dirty money #hapo art #digital art #clip studio paint #condensed milk comic

[fierykitten2]

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what the Proto Beasts and Neo Swords would look like if they were human for some reason. I think Walking Wake and Raging Bolt (and presumably also Dino Entei) have similar hairstyles to their actual ones while Iron Leaves has short pink hair (similar style to Perrin) and Iron Crown has blue hair (and pronouns) styled into two plaits that basically follow Yu-Gi-Oh! styles. Also these plaits come undone (turning into thick bunches) when angry and then magically replait themselves when it’s cooled down. Also because I think I can predict it Robo Terrakion has orange bunches in a similar style to Kris’s (I know, that kind of hair physics is reserved for the residents of Johto and neither Terrakion nor Robo Terrakion are from Johto) but higher up on its head and they point forwards and down slightly rather than up and forwards slightly. I’ve also basically decided to ignore the yellow/electronic eyes for the sake of making them seem more human and to people who are like “but then there would be no difference between human!Virizion and human!Iron Leaves” I think Virizion would have green hair (probably slightly more relaxed than Iron Leaves’ hair as well) maybe with black roots and/or a light pink ombré (I’m siding more towards the roots than the ombré) also the Neo Swords would wear armour because I vaguely remember reading somewhere (probably either Bulbapedia or TVTropes) that they look like they’re wearing armour. Also I think Cobalion would have a waistcoat with a ridiculously high collar (like F-Zero GX level high and I’m not talking about Robert. Well, technically he’s also got a high collar and nobody understands the reference) that Iron Crown lacks/has significantly altered. And Iron Leaves has the wings on its arms! Virizion probably has the leaves there too on whatever comfortable-looking clothing it’s wearing there. And the boot-like designs absolutely translate into boots for the Swords of Justice and Neo Swords. Putting it like this it honestly seems like I’ve given the Swords of Justice more thought than the Proto Beasts oops. I think trousers make sense with what’s going on with the fur on Walking Wake’s legs but I think in general it makes more sense for Suicune and Walking Wake to both be wearing robes. Yeah the same probably goes for Raging Bolt and Dino Entei, maybe also Raikou and Entei themselves. For some reason Raging Bolt’s claws have always given me trainer vibes (probably Converse). Btw I’m assuming they are all still genderless and continue to use the default Pokémon pronoun of it/it’s rather than assigning themselves to a gender for the sake of possibly blending in in a transphobic society, not that most if not all of them (definitely Terrakion, I think Robo Terrakion would also have noticeably unnatural hair) have unnatural hair colours with Iron Crown especially standing out but to be fair, I don’t think republicans are looking at Iron Leaves with its bright pink hair (and insistence on wearing armour) and thinking “ah yes this is a good Christian cishet girl who would hate to see a man using her bathroom”. Another thing, I think they all wear eye makeup. In the case of the Neo Swords it would be the same colour as their respective energy colours because Iron Leaves and Iron Crown use that colour as LED displays that resemble eye makeup while Walking Wake and Raging Bolt (and presumably also Dino Entei) have red eye makeup. Not to look scary, just because they look like they wear eye makeup already. The Proto Beasts (especially Raging Bolt) are far above average height. In general, Walking Wake and Iron Leaves often get cuddly with each other, not necessarily in a sexual way

Terapagos meanwhile looks like a teenager/kid in Normal Form to contrast the others looking like adults and has a blue and purple fishtail plait then in Terastal Form looks older than the others (so looks like an adult) and has big thick hair which is probably longer and thicker than Walking Wake’s. It also has pink eye makeup in both forms. Also possibly a beard in Terastal form (maybe Raging Bolt also has a beard). Don’t ask me what outfit it wears I don’t know

Unrelated but I think that an Iron Leaves would willingly use its psychic abilities to help a Walking Wake get something from a claw machine. The same may go for Iron Crown helping Raging Bolt and Robo Terrakion helping Dino Entei I just think Walking Wake would be the kind of Pokémon to want something from a claw machine and Iron Leaves would be the kind of mad person to use its unfair advantage against such a rigged machine

#what have we learnt from this post? #the Proto Beasts may look more different to their modern-day counterparts than the Neo Swords do #but when humanising them I just feel more creative with the Neo Swords #you may be surprised to learn the bit about the claw machine was inspired by my dream last night where I went bowling #but we didn’t bowl in the end because my best friend and my grandma dropped out #walking wake #iron leaves #raging bolt #iron crown #terapagos #raikou #entei #suicune #cobalion #terrakion #virizion #if I ever learn how to draw I might draw these #Proto Beasts #Neo Swords

[haitaniplug]

sanzu x fem!reader part one

cw: friends to enemies to lovers, mutual pining, pining, slow burn, slow build, romance, eventual romance, attempt at humor, platonic female/male relationships, high school, angst with a happy ending, violence, character death, drugs, smut, swearing

- 9 YEARS AGO -

"Mikey!" Baji called out, grabbing him straight by the collar, "Give it back! You're gonna make her cry!"

"No, it's mine," Mikey held the toy closer, "If she wants it so bad, she's going to have to chase me." Mikey as fast as ever practically ripped Baji's grip from his collar, stumbling to the floor in the process before running around the playground with the toy.

Baji sighed before approaching Senju, patting her on the back, "Sorry, he's a little, um, unhinged."

Senju pouted, looking down at the ground , fidgeting with her fingers before finally having enough, stomping her way over to Mikey who was sat on the grass, about to rip the arm off the small teddy bear. Senju stood infront of him, her hand gesturing for him to give it back.

Mikey looked up at her deadpanned before his face twisting into an evil grin,"Take it," He handed it to her but not removing it from his grip. He watched as she struggled to grab the toy and they had a little tug of war match before she accidentally pulled too hard out of pure desperation and fell backwards, the arm of the toy ripping in two, Mikey getting the bigger half obviously, "Oops."

Tears started to flood down her face as she stood up, "I hate you Manjiro!" Hands coming up to wipe the hot tears messily before tossing the arm at Mikey, stomping angrily inside the classroom.

"Mikey, why do you always do that?" Haruchiyo asked as he watched the entire thing unfold from the swings. Baji sat on the swing next to Haruchiyo, "You gotta stop bullyin' her."

"M'not bullying her, just testing her patience," Mikey defended himself but Baji wasn't buying it.

"Cause she's a girl right?" Baji knew he was right when Mikey had a distasteful look on his face.

"Fine, you got me!" He put his hands up in defeat, "Can't stand grossy icky girls."

"Don't you want to have a girlfriend or something?" Haruchiyo asked as his gaze accidentally travelled to you in the classroom with the other girls as you all consoled Senju, wiping her tears with your sleeve. He watched as if he was in a trance, how gentle and sweet you were towards her, he could barely understand what you were saying, but he just loved the way your lips moved as you spoke, wishing he was close enough to hear your voice.

"Oi," Haru brought his attention back to Mikey who's hand was currently waving infront of him, "Did you hear what I said?"

"No," Haru said awkwardly scratching the back of his head, "Sorry I was distracted."

By you.

He wanted to add but decided against it, knowing he would get teased so badly if Mikey ever found out about his crush on you.

Mikey looked over at the classroom where you were clearly in view, hugging Senju as she sobbed against your clothes. He looked back at Haru who blushed and quickly looked down. "No way....."

"Mikey please don—"

"YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON [Y/—" Before he could even finish his sentence, Haru practically leaped off the swings and shushed Mikey, making Baji's eyes widen in shock, he'd never seen him move that quickly. Not even for sports day when he was racing Mikey and wanted to finally win against Mikey.

"Stop being so loud!" Haru's face was beet red at this point. Mikey started to giggle, making Haru's hand vibrate from the motion. Mikey brought his hands up and removed Haru's hand from his face, "That's so gross!"

"Mikey-," Baji tried to sort the situation out before someone else starts crying.

Mikey shoved Haru off him, standing up wiping his clothes, "Having a crush is like," he paused, brows furrowed as he thought of the best possible word to describe his resentment for crushes and girlfriends, "LAME!"

Haru's eyes widended before blinking a few times, "Yeah, so lame." Baji glanced over at how Haru's entire mood just shifted in a matter of seconds.

"You got to promise me something," Mikey's face looked stern and serious for a moment, bringing his pinkie out in what seemed like slow motion, "Pals before gals."

Baji shrugged, not like he has a crush either way, "Deal." Bringing his pinkie out to link it with Mikey who grinned malicously before turning his head to face Sanzu, wiggling his pinkie as if he was tempting Haru with some candy.

"Deal."

Meanwhile, inside the classroom, after Senju had stopped crying, you went outside to where Mikey and his friends were playing. "Manjiro can I have the other half of the bear?" You asked nicely and he looked up at you almost disgusted.

"Somewhere over there." He pointed over to the sandbox, "Get to work."

You glared at him before composing yourself, "Hi Haru," you waved at him as he was swinging on the swings.

He came to an immediate stop the moment you waved at him, "H-hi [Y/N]." Sending him a warm smile before making your way over to the sandbox, digging through the sand to try find the other half.

"Wait till she finds out," Mikey snickered as he watched your brows twitch in annoyance as you kept on digging,

"Finds out what?" Baji asked, not liking the way Mikey is laughing right now. Mikey brought out the other half from the inside of his hoodie, snickering louder this time. "You're such a handful," Haru stood up, grabbing the teddy from his hands and making his way to the sandbox where you were sitting sighing as you officialy gave up.

"Um, [Y/N], here you go," Haru couldn't bring himself to look at you as the blush was clear and evident on his face. Your eyes widened as he handed you the toy, "I knew Manjiro lied to me," you hissed, irritated that he wasted your time. "Thank you Haru, you're so sweet." You stood up, dusting your clothes before walking over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I think Haru's soul just evaporated," Baji joked as he watched you walk away with the toy in your hand, meanwhile Haru pressed his hand on his cheek as if to convince himself this was reality.

- 2 YEARS LATER -

So much had changed since then. So so much. To your knowledge— Haruchiyo ( aka Sanzu now but you didn’t know that) and his sister Senju had a falling out. You didn’t know much of it but Senju refused to speak about it and teared up almost everytime it was brought up, so you avoided that topic and anything to do with her brother. Which was a shame honestly, because you were also Haru’s friend.

He stopped showing up to school though, him and Mikey as a whole. Baji attended sometimes but rarely, only on a special occasion or if he felt that everyone ‘ missed his presence ‘ to which everyone scoffed and he would get salty and leave again.

You missed Haru . Your crush on him faded away over the years that you never saw him. Or at least you thought it did until middle school rolled around and you saw him again, except with a mask on.

“Is that your brother?” You asked Senju as she was taking off her coat. Haruchiyo was there with a black mask on, writing something down at the front office before handing the receptionist a piece of paper.

“Yeah,” she responded, voice hoarse and clearly upset and you felt guilty having to remind her of him after she made it very clear by her responses she hated the topic.

Haru nodded at whatever the receptionist was saying before turning the opposite way, making eye contact with you by accident. You saw the way his pupils expanded before composing himself and walking out the front door.

Dropping your bag, you rushed over to the window, seeing him step in some dudes car. He looked tall, well over 6 ft and he was bald as he opened the door for Haru.

That was probably the first time you saw Haruchiyo again since grade school. Your heart ached as you saw the car drive off. Returning back to Senju with a sad glint in your eye, she raised her brow “Why are you so sad?”

You didn’t want to bring up Haruchiyo again so you brushed it off, “I’m not sad.”

***

“You sure dropping out of school was the right choice? You need an education.” Mucho lectured Sanzu who shrugged, “Don’t need an education to protect Mikey.”

Mucho stayed silent not knowing how to respond to that. “You seem shaken up,” he touched Sanzu’s shoulder, “when you exited the building like you saw a ghost or something.”

Sanzu shook his head, “not a ghost no.”

“So you did see something?”

Sanzu nodded, “just an old friend.”

Yeah a friend, he thought, hating the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw the sparkle in your eye as you both made eye contact. He feels bad for avoiding you, he avoided everyone after the incident with Mikey and Senju.

He couldn’t stand her.

He couldn’t show his face in school, not with these scars on his face. You hadn’t seen him in over 2 years and he didn’t want you to.

As much as he loved you, he wouldn’t want to see your disgusted face if you ever saw his scars, thinking you’d call him gross and never speak to him again.

Anxiety flooded through him that day and he told himself it’s better to push you away than to be the one pushed.

Few months later, you turned 15 now and was celebrating your birthday with Senju and her brother Takeomi. You were never really fond of him, he just rubbed you off the wrong way, plus you hated the smell of cigarettes and he reeked of it— as if it were his natural scent.

“What time is it?” You asked Senju as you stuffed more popcorn down your throat, wiping the tears in your eyes as you watched the woman on TV proclaim her love to her man, wishing it were you.

“Like 9PM. Are you going to sleep over?” Senju rested her head on your shoulder, “my brother doesn’t mind.”

“I would but my parents probably won’t let me.” You sighed, grabbing your things and some money for the train. “I’ll see you tommorow though,” you flashed Senju a smile as you stood up.

“Let me at least walk you to the station.”

“No! It’s okay, it’s late I’m a big girl now I can handle it.” UOU beamed, adjusting the straps on your bag. “Alright, text me when you get home safe okay?”

You nodded and gave her a hug before shouting goodbye to her brother Takeomi who was upstairs.

Making your way to the train station, you decided to stop off at a convenience store to grab something to eat on the train, when you saw him.

A boy with white hair, a black mask and green eyes. You stood at the entrance, eyes blown wide as if you’d seen a ghost of a relative.

“Haru?” You approached him, tapping him on the shoulder, praying to God he was actually Haru and not some random dude.

He turned around, not cause of the call of his old name but cause of the tap on his shoulder, “yeah?” He faced you and you saw his eyes go wide similar to your reaction.

“Oh my god it is you!” You embraced him in a hug that had him stumbling over, back hitting the shelves causing items from the top row to fall onto the floor.

“Ow..” he winced from the sudden contact and you stepped back, “oh my god I’m so sorry! I was just excited to see you.” You sent him a smile that had his cheeks heating up, quickly looking down to avoid your face.

“Yeah it’s been a while.”

“I should probably um,” you pointed to the floor at the items that fell, “clean that up.”

“Yeah I’ll help you.” You both bent down and started to pick the items up. You wanted to look at him so badly, you missed his face so much. Saying fuck it, you looked up and strangely enough you both made eye contact at the exact same time, as if it were planned.

You quickly looked back down, heat rising up your cheeks to your ears in embarrassment. By the time you stood up with the items, Haru covered his face so you couldn’t see the blush , but you saw it.

Oh you saw it. And it made you feel amazing.

Placing the items back on the shelves in pure silence. The only noise being the bell that rings at the front when someone enters and the sounds of the cash register opening and closing.

The awkwardness was killing you, but you were just happy to be in his presence.

“Happy birthday by the way.” He spoke out of nowhere, causing your hands to freeze up.

“Haru.. you remembered?” You finally turned to face him and he nodded. “Yeah, could never forget it.” You admired the way his mask moved slightly whenever he spoke. “And I don’t go by Haru anymore.” He looked down, “it’s Sanzu now.”

You bit your lip, not knowing what else to say before nodding. “I should probably head home now, the train is um.”

“Oh, yeah totally, I can um walk you to the um, station if you want.”

You blinked at him, your silence making him even more nervous, “Actually never min—,”

“I’d love you too!” You said a bit too fast and a bit to excitedly, making him blink at you.

“Alright let’s go.”

***

Since that night, you and Haru Sanzu spoke every night and you felt amazing to have him back in your life.

He had to correct you many times to get his new name rigjt to which to responded with a string of sorrys. He found it adorable seeing how guilty you felt when you messed it up.

He hated that name. He really did but strangely enough, he didn’t hate it when it came out of your mouth. Instead it almost comforted him in a way, but refused to tell you that because you might tease him for it.

He missed you so much. Wishing things could’ve been better if it wasn’t for Seniu.

Today you and Sanzu were at your house alone as he told you he’d help you study for your test, even though he dropped out of school.

“What’s the purpose for cytoplasm?” He asked, reading off of a flash card.

“Um,” you scratched your brain, thinking, “shit I forgot.” You slumped down on the couch, “ this impossible.”

Sanzu shifted closer, “no it’s not. It’s easy.”

“Pfft, easy for you to say,” you huffed, “you dropped out.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, true. Want to take a break?”

“Okay,” you grabbed the flash card and set them down on the table before sitting back down on the couch, resting your head against the back, admiring his face, though you could only see the upper half like all the time. It made you wonder why he’s wearing that mask all the time.

“Why are you staring at me..?” Sanzu asked, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious.

“I just miss seeing your face.” You shrugged, gesturing to his mask.

Anxiety flooded over Sanzu again, scared that you’d ask him to remove it then call him gross.

“Can I?” You gestured to the mask, shifting even closer to him on the couch and he shook his head, “I got a um, pimple on my lip.”

You knew that was a lie, pimples don’t last for months and everytime you’d seen him he had that mask on. “I just wanna see you Haru.”

Ah how he missed Haru. Sanzu was a boy filled with insecurities, trauma and pain. The boy with a permanent scar on his face as a constant reminder that he is no longer Haruchiyo.

He looked down and you backed up, “Haru? I mean Sanzu. You okay?”

You cupped his cheeks, making him look back up at you and carressed his face, “you’re so cute.” You mumbled as you stared at him and his eyes widened out of shock that you said those words.

He looked down at your lips before looking back up at you. The look on your face made him see that you both had the same intentions. Slowly, your hands came down to remove his mask, he didn’t even try to stop you, praying so hard that you didn’t cringe or say anything about his face.

“Oh my god.. who did that to you?!” You gently touched them, “does it hurt?”

A sigh of relief passed through him that you didn’t make fun of him. “It um, happened years ago.” You noticed the way he avoided the question and decided not to press on further.

“You’re so beautiful,” you said, tracing your finger over the outline of the diamond and he blinked at your words. Nobody has ever—

You leaned in, kissing them so gently on both sides before pulling away. “You wear your mask to cover it right?”

He nods.

“Don’t, I love them so much.” You leaned in again except this time, you kissed him on the lips and he quickly reciprocated, grabbing the back of your head and deepened it. The action made you moan softly before he towered over you as your back hit the couch, grabbing the back of his hair and massaging his scalp as you kissed.

He pulled away to catch his breath and you cupped his cheeks, giggling as you squished them in your hands.

Fuck he loves you so much.

“I love you too Sanzu.” You responded and his eyes widened “Did I say that out loud?” He asked and you nodded, giggling as you pulled him down to reattach your lips together.

But everything changed once Izana died.

stay tuned for part 2 ! i have assignments due this week so i won’t be uploading till the weekend sorry 😣

#sanzu haruchiyo smut #sanzu haruchiyo x you #sanzu x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokrev sanzu #sanzu imagines #sanzu fluff #sanzu angst #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyorev x reader

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Star Crossed | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I was thinking today about how I absolutely ugly cry during a lot of movies and it made me wonder how Bucky would respond in that situation. Romeo + Juliet is one of those movies that just fucking GETS me! Fun fact: I was in Romeo and Juliet in high school and I had a suuuuper small part, but I was on stage for the final scene when Romeo and Juliet's parents find their bodies. I was BAWLING so loud that my teacher told me to get it together or he'd remove me from the scene...oops. In the words of that one girl from Mean Girls, "I just have a lot of feelings".

Anyway, enjoy! And if you feel so inclined, please send me comments, questions, suggestions, or whatever else :)

-Hope

A steady stream of hot tears cascaded down your cheeks as the final line of the movie echoed through your living room. "For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo". You reached for the remote, turning off the tv and resting your face in your hands.

"Why did I do this to myself?" you thought, feeling hot tears slip between your fingers and gather in your palms. You continued to sob into your hands as you thought of Romeo, so grief-stricken from losing Juliet that the only action he could take was suicide. And poor Juliet, who woke up from her faux-death only a moment too late and found her Romeo dead beside her, sheathing his dagger in her own abdomen because she couldn't bear to live without him. You knew you'd feel the same exact way if you ever lost Bucky, and that made you cry even harder.

Hurried, lumbering footsteps broke through the sound of your sobs and you felt Bucky's bodyweight sink into the couch cushion next to you. "Baby? Hey, what's wrong?" panic coursed through him as he waited on pins and needles for you to answer him. Your head shot up and he saw your red eyes and tear stained cheeks. "Talk to me. What happened?" His hands were lightly wrapped around your upper arms, stroking your skin gently with his thumbs.

You cracked a small smile, wiping some of your tears away with the collar of a shirt you'd borrowed from him. "Nothing happened, Buck," you reassured him with a chuckle. "I-I just finished watching a really sad movie". Bucky moved one of his hands to your back, rubbing gently up and down your spine to help you catch your breath. His own breathing finally began to slow now that he knew you were okay. You saw the panic that clouded his eyes recede and a sympathetic smile crawled across his lips. He breathed a huge sigh of relief, "you scared me for a second there, sweetheart. I got home and called out to you but all I heard was crying".

"My bad, Buck. Didn’t mean to worry you," you murmured, laughing a little. "Guess I couldn't hear you over my excessive weeping". He shook his head and laughed, reaching for your face and wiping a few stray tears from your cheek bone. Thinking once again about the tragic fate of Romeo and Juliet, you quickly climbed into Bucky's lap and threw your arms around his neck. You squeezed him tight and he returned the gesture, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you securely against his body. "What movie was it?" he asked, his face still resting in the crook of your neck. You groaned, "I’ll tell you, but don't judge me". He pulled back, meeting your eyes with his. "No judgement here, peach" he said with a wink.

"I may or may not have watched Romeo + Juliet..." you mumbled. He was the one groaning now, pressing his forehead against yours. "You said no judging!" you exclaimed as he let out a small chuckle. "And I'm not judging, babe! It’s just- the star crossed lovers?! That’s a sad one, peach. And I know how those kind of movies get to you!" You shook your head, knowing that he was absolutely right. "Why would you do that to yourself?" he asked.

"Ugh, I don't knowwww," you groaned again. "I saw that it was on and-it's young Leo! I just couldn't resist. I told myself I wouldn't watch the whole thing bu-" He finished your sentence for you: "you watched the whole thing". You nodded and flashed him a nervous smile. "Sometimes I hate that I'm such an emotional person," you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed that you'd gotten so upset over a movie.

Bucky shook his head, gently moving some hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. "See, that's one of the things I love most about you," he murmured. "You've got such a big heart, and you feel things so deeply. I didn't feel anything for...a long time". His face took on a dark look for a moment as memories of his horrifying years as the winter solider clouded his mind. He screwed his eyes shut and when he opened them, they were filled with adoration for you. "You're just a kind person. I think that's why movies like that hit you so hard...it’s the same reason you were able to see past who I used to be. You're just...good".

Your eyes welled up again, but this time for a different reason, "Buck, I..." He brought a vibranium finger up to your eye and gently caught a tear that was about to spill over. "Come on, sweets" he cooed. "Let's not have any more tears tonight, okay?" You nodded as you brought your hands up to your eyes, wiping away any tears that threatened to travel down your cheeks. Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before planting a slightly firmer one to your lips.

"I love you," you whispered, "so much". Bucky buried his face in your neck and you felt his hot breath on your skin as he murmured "I love you more". He wrapped his strong arms around you and picked you up as he stood, carrying you to the kitchen. "Let me make you some tea. Okay, baby?" You nodded and sniffled as you watched him gather everything he'd need. "And then," he said, turning to you with a look of determination on his face. "We need you to watch something funny. Gotta even your emotions out". He winked at you and put the kettle on the stove. "How about that show you keep telling me to watch? What's it called...New Girl?"

You nodded, "that's the one". He walked over to you and placed a hand on your face, gently caressing your cheekbone. "I love taking care of you, doll". You took a deep breath, finally feeling back to normal after your night of intense crying. "Buck," you murmured. "You're way better than Romeo". He let out a small laugh and rolled his eyes playfully at you. "Too cheesy?" you asked. He shook his head and leaned down, giving you a tender kiss. "No," he whispered, "Perfect. Under love’s heavy burden do I sink".

#bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barns x reader #bucky drabble #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fatws bucky

[taesspark]

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k 

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc. 

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year. 

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day. 

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook. 

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did. 

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep. 

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard. 

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-” 

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.” 

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.” 

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it. 

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble. 

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude. 

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close. 

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them. 

“Oops.” 

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh. 

Fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.” 

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.” 

You’re seething. 

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all. 

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out. 

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies. 

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.” 

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek. 

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. 

“Do you have something to say?” You snap. 

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. 

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.” 

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing. 

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.” 

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.” 

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hit a nerve?” 

“No.” 

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is. 

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up. 

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.” 

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting. 

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.” 

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?” 

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.” 

“Hit a nerve?” You mock. 

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same. 

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says. 

Jungkook groans. 

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” 

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall. 

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.” 

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?” 

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself. 

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.” 

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror. 

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it. 

“But-”

“Professor!” 

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.” 

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder. 

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead. 

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake. 

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed. 

“Y/N?” 

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask. 

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face. 

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?” 

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate. 

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.” 

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away. 

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.” 

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance. 

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole." 

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake. 

#bts fanfiction #bts au #bts drabble #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook #jungkook x reader #spellbound #bts hogwarts au #bts fic

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Oop so it says you requests are open so imma just slidee👉🏾👈🏾 Erm, so I kept going back to reread that Monoma piece and it was just as gold the 7th time. I was wondering if I could request a part 2? Or something different, it can be up to you. But filled with Monoma’s same rudeness and the trope as reader being a total masochist too. Maybe something happens in public like a boy tried to kiss her and he overly reacts and I can leave the rest up to you ;) Thank you & love your works 💛 -Dee

Notes: MAMA DEE I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG. PSSSSH THIS IS LIKE A YEAR OUT OF DATE. PFFFT, JUST SPANK ME NEXT TIME. (Although I still think the first one is better)

Pairing: Female Reader x Monoma Neito

Content warning: degradation, unhealthy relationships, anal sex, dom/sub undertones and overtones 😉 no beta, we die like men

“M-Monoma, it’s too hard!”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t complain? I don’t want to hear a word out of you that isn’t my name.”

You gasped, inhaling the scent of the red brick in front of you. The same brick Monoma had you pinned against. You could feel your stockings scraping and tearing whenever your knees dug against the rocky side of the convenience store. The smell of the dumpster you’re hidden behind, fortunately, bearable as you find it hard to do anything but pant.

It isn’t for long that you can even have that much as he pulled on your collar. You choked, loud and broken, as your head lifts from the side of the wall. He’s reckless, not bothering to cover your broken sobs, enjoying it instead as you fight to talk.

Monoma never held back with your body. You’re thankful you had the forethought to grab protection with the slightest amount of lubricant from the store he fucked you behind, otherwise you’d break from the intensity. You spitting on his dick (as people like Monoma are too refined to do something as nasty as spit) beforehand wouldn’t have been near enough as he stretched you at a brutal pace. The only thing slowing him down was the resistance of your tight puckered ring and the tug of your panties, which he forcefully held to the side with the hand cupped against your ass, dragging against his cock. His grasp dug in so deep, you’re sure your round cheek would bruise like mishandled fruit. And you cried out for him again.

You could only think back to how you got into this situation.

It had been less than ten shifts at your new job working as a waitress at a medium-sized maid café about twenty minutes out from where you lived. You would rather work anywhere else but with your schedule and the need for quick money, here you were dressed like a fluffy penguin from head to toe.

It was funny that you should run into Monoma there of all places. It wasn’t even supposed to be your day to work today. You were simply covering for another coworker who was on sick leave when you so carelessly walked up to his table. Fates funny like that, you supposed.

If you would’ve noticed it was him sooner, you might’ve let one of the other girls take his table. Because as soon as the words “welcome home, master” left your mouth and blue eyes zeroed in on you, it was over with.

“You. Filthy. Whore,” Monoma said to you, hissed the words at you more like.

Secretly, you guess a part of you wanted him to catch you like this – dressed in a black maid uniform pulled tightly at your waist and flared out just barely below your ass, knee-high stockings providing the only cover for your bare legs and north of that a lace collar and headdress.

You’ve never seen him so mad at you before, never seen such disdain clouding his eyes when he’s looked at you. It’s terrifying but also exhilarating, enough to make your legs wobble in fear and excitement. Enough that you can feel your panties dampening. You think you’ve heard of this situation in a meme before. Scorny? Scaroused? Perhaps. It didn’t matter which since you completely understood the meaning now as the entire café began looking at you due to his outburst, seeing how much you worked him up even if he always tried to deny it.

Regardless, you couldn’t be happier that this happened. That he was seething over you. That you were in trouble. The only thing keeping you from coming in your panties right there was the fear you might have pushed him too far this time as he stood up, his utensils clinging as he bumped the edge of the table.

“First, you fuck someone else,” he yelled. Ah, you could feel just the slightest amount of spit droplets tingling against your face as he got closer. “Now, I catch you selling yourself. Why do I even put up with you,” he ranted angrily, shoving you out of his path. The chime of the entrance rang with his exit; snapping out of your daze, you hurriedly followed after him, not even giving the door time to close.

It didn’t take long to catch up to him once you hit your stride. The harder part would be trying to convince him to forgive your transgression then take out his frustrations on your body, like always, so you could ease the aching between your legs.

“Monoma, wait! It’s not like that. I swear it’s innocent. I just needed the money for books.”

“Then, why did you lie about it?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but clamped it shut again as you remembered the conversation you had with him earlier that week when he found you stuffing that uniform in your locker.

“Oh wow! For once, you’ve surprised me,” he said, tugging at the ruffled white and black skirt. “Are you trying to win your way back into my good graces, (Name)? While I like the initiative, you’re going to have to try way harder than that.”

You so shyly explained, “This is my work uniform.”

The laugh from him was instantaneous, mocking and loud, as he held his stomach to stop the tears from coming through. “Uniform—do you clean houses now? I guess you’re pretty good about working on your knees.”

You almost told him the truth, but you also knew he’d get upset if he saw you talking to somebody else. “Yeah. It’s a good job.”

Maybe him seeing you with that uniform is what brought him to a maid café in the first place. You don’t dare call him out on it even if you have a good feeling that’s the reason. Not that Monoma would admit that if you asked.

“Because I didn’t want you to get jealous.”

Monoma stopped short, and you collided with his back. He turned, mouth half-open in disbelief and looking down on you like you were dirt beneath his shoe. Perhaps, you were. By his own words, you weren’t as rich as him, as proper as him, you’d never measure up to him. Yet, here he was, the one all bent out of shape over poor, improper, measureless dirt. You’ve never seen him this off-kilter for anyone else he’d sleep with. “Jealous-hah-you actually think I’m jealous?"

Yes, you thought, and it made you crack one of the tiniest of smiles as he lectured you.

“Sure, I suppose I can get jealous. The same way a person gets jealous when someone gets the last pair of shoes on sale. The same way a person might get jealous when another person pets their dog. The same way I might get jealous of someone who doesn’t have to worry about if they got an std because they put their dick in the wrong slut. But don’t you dare think for a second, I’d get jealous because I actually care about you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Monoma scoffed, waving off your apology. “You’re right about that much. You are sorry.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

“Nothing short of power washing that cesspool in between your legs.”

“Please, Monoma-kun.” You pouted as he began to walk ahead of you, always changing his pace to keep you one step behind. “I’ll let you fuck me,” you offered.

“Now, why would I want to do that after this of all things?”

“Anal. I won’t complain. Promise.”

Immediately, Monoma paused and spun around, contemplating as he glanced over you in your uniform. His eyes landed towards your legs. You felt giddy at how he looked you over. He would always say how he could find better, but his eyes always took you in so hungrily.

He simply demanded, “I want condoms.”

“It’s your own fault. I can’t stand the feel of these things, it makes it hard to nut properly. It’s already hard enough getting it up with you without this adding on to it.”

Yet, he practically ripped your clothes off of you as soon as he got the chance.

You couldn’t forget how roughly he pulled your shirt open, complaining that you were unbuttoning it too slow. The clear plastic buttons had popped off, clacked against the ground, and rolled away forgotten. You don’t know how you’d return your uniform in this condition.

Your breasts bounced freely, exposed for anyone with enough forethought to walk back here and see, and you whined at the thought of someone seeing Monoma fuck you, something he was usually so adamant about keeping private. After all, he didn’t want to be seen with you, but he had no problem mixing his cum with yours on most days, ovulating or not.

This time was different as he thrust into you full force, not caring to scold you for how loud you’re crying in broad daylight.

When he came, you didn’t come with him. You didn’t even have the joy of feeling him fill you like usual as you felt the heat against your walls separated by a thin layer of latex. As soon as he pulled out, he let you fall sideways onto tattered knee stockings, with ruffled skirt still hiked too far up your waist, and your mouth drooling from the lack of air and being so close to finishing but denied.

You wondered if Monoma was worked up enough to fuck you again. Maybe if you beg him, he’d let you get off on his leg at least, like a horny dog.

His finger hooked under your collar, tugging up to force your eyes up to meet his.

“Look here, my cushy onna-hole, from now on you’re going to refer to me as Master,” he told you as he yanked the collar back and forth to jerk you along. “Better yet, Grand Master, as I should be above those scum you let eye fuck you.”

“Yes, Grand Master.”

Monoma hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm…I’m not feeling that one now that I hear it. How about Master Monoma, say both each time. The alliteration works better that way.”

You nodded as you swallowed down more spit to speak properly. “Yes, Master Monoma.”

“Ah, music to my ears.” He smirked, lopsided and haughty. “And since you want to sell yourself for money, you’re going to quit that little whorehouse and become my personal maid 24/7.”

“I need the money for school.”

Neito sighed. “It’s unfortunate that your brain is smaller than your cup-size. I’m going to buy them for you because you’re my property, and I take care of my things; and in that breath, if I ever catch you in this ridiculous garb outside for anyone else to see, I’m going to do so much more than fuck you next time.”

You smiled, reveling in the jealous sneer he gave. You’re positive now. Absolutely positive that you’re his favorite girl. It made you giddy.

“What’s so damned funny?”

Hurriedly, you straightened your face. “Nothing.”

Neito scoffed, tugging your forward again by your collar to meet up with his cock. He peeled off the used condom, semen stickily spilling off the tip of his cock. He flicked his dick on the side of your face, slapping you with it before lining it up with your lips. “Now, let’s clean that dirty lying mouth of yours.”

“Yes, Master Monoma.”

#monoma x reader #neito monoma x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #monoma smut #adelssmut #notsfw

[theroyalsims]

PRINCE ALISTAIR’S GIRLFRIEND, XIMENA KALARMY, CAUGHT WEARING KNOCK-OFF VERSION OF DRESS PREVIOUSLY WORN BY CROWN PRINCESS ANYA

You know what they say: imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!

In a major fashion oops moment, royal girlfriend Ximena Kalarmy was photographed wearing a fake designer dress during an outing earlier today. Ximena wore a blue-and-white striped dress which, at first glance seemed like a cute get-up, but upon further inspection, turns out to be a couture knock-off.

(Above: Ximena photographed earlier today, trying her hardest to ignore the photographers. Apart from her fake dress, Prince Alistair’s girlfriend is also said to be toting a fake designer purse.)

The original dress is made by luxury brand Riod, and was sold at §1,975. The piece was part of the label’s collection from last spring and was named one of the season’s “it dresses,” having  been worn by many A-listers, celebrities, and even a certain heir-to-the throne. That’s right, perhaps the most high-profile wearer of the now-controversial frock is none other than Crown Princess Anya. 

Her Royal Highness wore the dress during an official outing last year. The Crown Princess wore the teal-and-white version of the dress, which she accessorised with white sling backs, a white clutch, and her trademark mega-watt smile. 

(Above: The Crown Princess, always the fashion trailblazer, rocked the dress first during an official engagement last spring. HRH paired her teal-and-white dress with white accessories, including a clutch and sling backs, as well as gold and diamond jewellery.)

Meanwhile, Ximena paired her counterfeit dress with black tights and Mary Jane heels. Prince Alistair’s girlfriend then accessorised with a black sling bag, also thought to be a fake by many online sleuths. 

While both dresses do look similar, the devil is in the details. The original Riod dress features a contrasting white collar, white belt and white ruffles along the sleeves. Ximena’s cheap knock-off, however, appears to be missing these particular elements, and is instead printed all over with blue-and-white stripes. 

(Above: The Designer Dress and the Knock-Off - Crown Princess Anya [L] was photographed wearing the designer piece last year during an outing; Ximena [R] was snapped today wearing the counterfeit dress.)

Fashion blog DressLikeAnya estimates the fake dress to cost somewhere between §10-30, a far cry from the original couture piece’s price tag. 

Some royal fans and fashion enthusiasts actually came to Ximena’s defence. One writer shared: 

“Not everyone is able to afford a §2,000 dress. There’s nothing wrong with buying a cheaper alternative. It looks good on her. Stop harassing this woman. This is bullying.”

A fashion columnist also remarked:

“Is it embarrassing to get caught wearing a fake? Sure. But the fact remains that Ximena is a private individual and she deserves respect. She shouldn’t be dragged through the mud for wearing something cheap, fake or not. Let’s all be honest. Everyone’s out to get her because she happens to be dating a Prince. But what can you do? That dress is all she can afford. Is that such a crime? Also, can we stop with the comparisons? What is it with you people pitting women against each other?”

While many seem to envy Ximena’s practical fashion know-how (fake or not, she does look cute in that outfit), many are rather quick to judge her, too. One commenter wrote: “So cheap and tacky. Like, she’s dating a Prince. At least step it up a little. And wearing something so obviously fake? Eww.” Another wrote: “OMG this girl is like so freaking lame and cringe. She’s legit giving me second-hand embarrassment. I thought I liked her but this proves that she’s nothing but a social-climbing try-hard. Some people just don’t have class. Periodt.”

(Above: Ximena looked ill at ease as photographers followed her during her walk. Maybe it was this moment when she realised she got caught wearing a fake!)

Meanwhile, one writer likened Ximena to Marina (remember her?) for her alleged “obsession” with The Crown Princess:

“She’s giving me some serious Marina vibes. I remember back in the day, that woman was hell-bent on being friends with then-Crown Princess Emilia. She idolised the heck out of her and even befriended and slept with Prince Poldy. Ximena’s giving me the same stalker-y and creepy vibes, like she so badly wants to impress Anya. Sad.”

Aww. Imagine being caught wearing a fake? Then imagine finding out that your boyfriend’s sister has the original dress? Now take all of that and have it broadcast all over the world!? Yikes! We’re just so thankful none of us are Ximena right now. Girl’s in for a tough time! 

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 fashion #ts4 legacy #ts4 royals #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal story #simblr #royal simblr #ts4 story #ts4 stories #ts4 storytelling #ts4 gameplay #ts4 edits #ts4 screenshots #brindleton bay #the sims 4 #mystory

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Similar Tastes”

An enemies to lovers classic. You and Harry are too similar for you to ever get along...maybe

Hi hi! This is for @majorharry’s 20k celebration writing !!! Hope you all enjoy, I always love to hear from you :)))

The prompts I used: “How about you get off my dick” and “Sorry, I didn’t know”

This gif bc Harry “oh god that’s TEQUILA” Styles is king

Fluff? Smut? But definitely angst? Idk how to describe it bahaha a little bit of everything

Word Count: 4.0k | Warnings: language (there are actually two slurs in this - they’re bisexual slurs and they’re said by the bad guy so just take that into consideration), mature content (not quite smut but y’know), alcohol consumption, girl kissing girl at one point

Pt. 2 is up!

-

Saturday night. It was finally time to go out with your group of friends and you couldn’t be happier. Well, you could, but what would make you that happy wasn’t possible. If one of the people in your friend group wasn’t there. That would make you the happiest.

Almost everyone has that one person in your friend group who you can’t stand. Like, at first you don’t really know them and then as you get to know them more you just can’t stand them.

For you that was Harry.

While neither of you would admit why you hated each other, it was obviously about how everyone would always compare the two of you. You had practically identical personalities, and had similar fashion taste. At first, everyone else thought you would end up together because it seemed like you were perfectly matched. But the first time someone said, “Oh, Harry, your jacket looks just like the one Y/N wore last week.” Both of you had seethed in complete dissatisfaction. 

Naturally, Harry took his jacket off early in that evening and you never wore yours again. You hated being compared to Harry, being told he had made a similar joke or said the same thing about something made you want to reevaluate your entire value system. Maybe it was because you both had such an individualistic mindset, but neither of you enjoyed being compared to anyone and that’s what made it all the worse when people chose to compare you to each other. It boiled down to both of you wanting to be the best at everything - the most unique, rather - that made you dislike the other so much.

So, tonight at the bar, as your group rattled in from the street, you stuck close to your pals at the front while Harry was chatting with someone near the back of the pack. Your eyes had met briefly when you’d seen each other’s outfits. Harry’s a half unbuttoned Gucci cream dress shirt, that was rolled to his elbows, tucked into high waisted navy trousers finished with cream boots and yours a navy bra top with a faux collar and a deep cut to show your cleavage paired with cream high waisted pleated pants and navy loafers. Not exactly the same, but if you had stood next to one another it would have looked planned. You rolled your eyes at him as he narrowed his towards you. You couldn’t wait to order a few drinks and let loose after a hard week at work.

As you all approached a booth, somehow the group shifted and Harry and you were suddenly side by side as everyone was getting in the booth. Then, you were sitting and Harry was right beside you. He tried to cover his groan of annoyance when he realized he’d have to be sitting next to you, once again regarding your outfit with disdain. Your only response was glaring at him. The friend who you had been talking to, Marie, placed her hand over your ring-clad one, that was now gripping the side of the table out of annoyance. “Play nice,” she said. You relaxed at her touch trying to refocus on the purpose of the night, fun.

Soon, a waitress made it to your table and smiled sweetly at all your bright faces. Harry and you were located to her left, and her eyes reached you last.

“Oh! You two are too cute! I love when couples coordinate their outfits!”

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and you gave a tight-lipped smile as you tried to keep yourself from having a blood vessel pop in your eye right then.

“We’re not” you began, Harry cut you off, “together, love.”

His expression changed as he smirked up at the waitress, trying to make it clear that he was very much single.

“Oh! My apologies...So what can I get everyone?”

As she began to take the orders, you shoved your elbow into Harry’s rib. You did it for two reasons, for him cutting you off when you were talking and for being so on top of you in the booth.

He turned to you, “The fuck was that for?”

“For being an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

As you’re about to go off on him about being rude, Marie taps your hand and you realize it's your turn to order.

You clear your throat, trying to shake off your angry tone, “Tequila on the rocks, please.”

The waitress nods and then turns to smile at Harry, he gives you side eyes of disdain, “What’s your most expensive tequila?”

Her smile grew, “We’ve got Don Julio Real and Gran Patron for top shelf.”

“Don Julio on the rocks, please.” He winked.

She nods, scribbling something on her notepad, “Oh! Would you like Don Julio as well?” she returns to you.

You shook your head, “No. Jose Cuervo works just fine,” and glared at Harry once more.

Of course he would ask for top shelf, you thought. Harry couldn't have gotten through saying the exact same order as you, especially after the waitress had already pointed out the similarity in your clothes.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Being in such close proximity to Harry made you incapable of leaving the bickering alone. Everyone else always ignored when the two of you really got into it, because it honestly wasn’t that interesting. Like an old married couple, though none of them would ever dare say it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N?”

You scoffed as he turned in his seat to look at you. “Oh, please, you just couldn’t handle ordering the same thing as me. You had to flex that you could order Don Julio!”

“You’re just upset because you can’t.”

“Come off it! I could, but I don’t feel the need to boost my ego by showing off to the waitress that I can afford the expensive stuff.” You laughed at his attempt at snubbing you about what you can and can’t afford.

His eyes darkened and flashed at you and you could see it even in the dim lighting off the bar. “I wasn’t trying to show off, it’s not my fault you don’t care to drink the good stuff.”

“Okay, Harry,” you say sarcastically, waving him off.

He huffed, annoyed that you were the only person he was sitting next to. He had to call across the table if he wanted to speak to anyone that wouldn’t involve you being completely in the way. As he was about to call out to Mitch who was directly across from him, the waitress returned with everyone’s drinks.

“Jose Cuervo on the rocks! And Don Julio on the rocks!” She beamed at the group after finishing handing them out.

Everyone thanked her and she disappeared. You and Harry simultaneously took sips of your drinks.

You wrinkled your nose, “This isn’t Jose Cuervo…”

Harry placed his drink on his coaster and swallowed, licking his lips he said, “I think mine is, tastes cheap.”

“You’re really an ass,” you say as you shove your misgiven drink to him and snatch his from the table instead.

Harry growing tired of your arguing already, “Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he rolled his eyes and took a larger sip of the correct drink.

You take a sip of your own drink and sigh again, “This isn’t even tequila, what the fuck?”

“Ah, no wonder it tasted like shit. What do you think it is?”

“Well, considering there’s only, like, a handful of clear hard liquors besides silver tequila, probably vodka, idiot,” you breathed the last word under your breath, still Harry stared at you with daggers in his eyes. You weren’t actually sure how many other liquors it could be, but you were so pissed off by the whole situation you just wanted to make him shut up.

“Well that’s a bummer, kid. Maybe next time, order a better tequila and she’ll get it right.”

You shoved him, not wanting to wait for the waitress to come back to fix her mistake, “How about you get off my dick and then I can go get something worth drinking?”

Harry huffed as he slowly moved his body up from his seat, yet he stayed so close to the opening of the booth you were practically chest to chest when you slipped out. Due to that, and maybe a little bit on purpose, you knocked your drink forward to get a small amount on him. Not enough for him to be drenched, but enough to bug him for the rest of the night.

“Oops?” you tilted your head and held a sickeningly sweet smile on your face as you looked at his taken aback look. His prominent jaw had dropped as the cold liquid had pooled over his left breast pocket, some of his tattoos now much more visible. You quickly turned on your heel and bounced off to the bar. Harry grumbled and sat back down, Marie leaned over with a napkin, trying to dry him off a bit.

With a fresh drink in hand you weaved back to the table, all your friends were laughing together at something Harry had seemingly said. When you arrived everyone beamed up at you, far more jovial after a few sips of their drinks. Only Harry’s face was sour, but you chose to ignore it and smile at your friends, waiting for Harry to get up to let you into your seat that he had occupied in your absence. When he didn’t, your face began to fall from its smile.

“Are you going to get up?”

“No, just take that seat,” he waves his hand beside him, trying to go back to the conversation he was engaging in before you had arrived.

“But, you’re in my seat,” you pushed.

“You’re the one who decided to get up and leave it.”

“You cannot be serious, Harry.”

“As a heart attack,” he said flatly, and then turned his head to Sarah who was next to Marie.

You looked around the table for help, Mitch gave a slight sad smile like he felt bad, but everyone knew there was no changing Harry’s mind. You knew you didn’t have the strength to yank his large, muscled body out of the booth, so you resigned and took his old seat. There, you kicked Harry’s leg harshly and took a long sip of your alcohol, just wanting to get drunk enough to want to dance and then not be near Harry.

After a second round of drinks, this time the waitress getting your order right, you were feeling better. Harry and you were largely ignoring each other and laughing along with the rest of your friends to some story. Every so often his leg would open up and bump into yours and you’d hit back at it harder, his eyes sliding to your face for a moment and then looking away. He made you so hot with anger and the closeness of bodies in that bar already had the temperature way too high. You gulped at your drink, trying to cool down, but it only had the opposite effect, the alcohol mixing with your blood, heating up your insides, as well.

Then, once the third round of drinks were served, Marie suggested it was time to dance, commenting that some random song that was currently playing was ‘her favorite’. It wasn’t, but whenever she got drunk, every song was ‘her favorite’. However, you were all happy to oblige, feeling restless as the alcohol was buzzing in your systems.

Out on the dance floor, some of the couples in your friend group paired off to dance on each other while the rest of you spread out. You spotted a woman in the crowd wearing a sequin dress that looked absolutely gorgeous on her, her blonde hair reminding you of some rocker chick in the 70’s. While making your way towards her, Harry tried to get in front of you, obviously making his way to her as well.

Another thing Harry and you had in common, the people you typically went for - men and women. Shaking him off with a hand on his chest and a glare, you reached her first and she smiled at you as you complimented her outfit and began to dance with her. Harry resigned to staying with some of your other friend’s when he saw how the woman threw her head back at something you said to her. Soon, she was grinding herself against your front, your lips attached to her neck, hands on her hips.

Feeling particularly happy with yourself, your gaze flitted around the crowded dance floor. Eyes scanning those around you, you soon made eye contact with Harry, who actually wasn’t that far off. His eyes looked a more dull green in the light and he rolled them when he saw you looking up from your place against the beautiful woman. While he still looked on at your languid figures pressed together, you teased your tongue up her neck a bit, causing the woman to keen into your touch. As Harry was about to look away, shaking his head at your antics, he caught sight of a guy approaching you and the other woman.

He said something to the pair of you, but you couldn’t hear him. The woman had opened her eyes to look at the guy and you had removed your lips from her, shaking your head that you didn’t catch what he said.

He repeated himself, yelling this time, “Fauxbians out here trying to catch a real man! How ‘bout we make you total lugs!”

He was loud enough for your friends to hear, including Harry who had been watching the whole scene play out. He pushed through the crowd to get to your side, he might not like you, but he couldn’t stand someone who was homophobic, or biphobic, in this case. You pushed the woman off of you and to the side, she was clearly upset and you weren’t going to let what the guy said slide.

“What the fuck, man? You think it’s okay to say shit like that to people? What year are you living in, like for real?”

As you were about to start really ripping into him, you felt Harry’s presence beside you. You looked over and he looked angry, like really angry, not annoyed or exasperated as he usually did with you. Angry like he was about to grab this guy by the shirt and start pummeling him. Even with all the alcohol in your system, you knew that wouldn’t actually help the situation, even if you did want someone to wipe the smug look off this guy’s face, which had only grown worse since you’d started yelling at him. It was like this stranger was getting off on making these two women in front of him uncomfortable and upset.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry spat at the guy.

“Harry,” you turned your body towards him and put your hand on his chest, placing yourself between him and the rude guy, “I’m not letting you get into a fight over what he said. It’s not worth it.”

He had pushed himself almost against this guy, Harry easily hovering over him. Harry looked down at you and then back to the guy, who was chuckling to himself, stepping back from the scene.

He seethed, “You disgust me,” he looked at the man. “Just crawl back into whatever hole your sorry ass came out of.”

The guy just laughed and walked off. Harry looked down at you, his eyes softening instantly. You couldn’t exactly distinguish the look he gave you, you just knew it was something you’d never seen directed at you.

Your brow remained furrowed as you looked at him, then he said, “Let’s get some air.”

You looked around the room for your sequined dress woman, but she was nowhere to be found. So you let Harry take you by the hand out the side exit, to the bar’s alleyway.  

Outside, you immediately brought your hands to rub over your exposed arms, the tiny sleeves of your shirt not being enough to brave the brisk night air. The altercation had shaken you up quite a bit and immediately sobered you. Harry stepped closer to you out of instinct, seeing you were shivering, but having nothing to offer warmth except himself. The two of you leaned against the bar’s outer wall and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, voice slightly hoarse from yelling in the loud bar.

“Fine. You?”

Why was he being so nice, you were surprised he had stepped in at all, but now he was checking in on you past that, it was confusing.

“Of course. You didn’t even let me get a single swing in.”

You scrunched your face at his comment regarding violence. “Why did you even come over? I can handle myself,” you asked, suddenly feeling the normalcy of bickering settle between the two of you.

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His pectoral muscles slightly shifted and pushed around his cross pendant in the center of his chest.

“Because he was a dick,” he started, then sighed, “And because I can’t just let some homophobe say a bunch of slurs to my friend.”

Your eyes grew wide and shown in the street lamp, as they looked up into Harry’s green ones. He was slightly sweaty from the bar, but it was quickly drying and leaving a slight sparkle on his skin. His jaw was tensed, as he tried to maintain eye contact with you. You remained silent, unaware how to respond to his statement that he did, despite much evidence saying otherwise, care about you.

Harry decided to continue, “You might piss me off, like all the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random asshole to say that kind of shit to you.”

“I’m your friend?” you circled back to what he had said earlier. Your voice was small and also hoarse from yelling in the bar.

“Of course, Y/N, what the fuck?”

“I thought...I guess I never saw it that way.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know competing all the time and being annoyed with each other was friendship.” You shifted closer to Harry, your words dripping in sarcasm. Even now, as the two of you checked in on each other and talked about your friendship, you managed to fight.

“That’s just because you’re constantly infuriating me and getting us into fights,” Harry smirked, tapping a finger on your cold nose.

“I think you’ve got it backwards, there, Har,” you winked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shrugged and pressed closer to you.

Neither of you were very clear on what your bodies were doing, slowly moving so that you had your back against the wall and Harry’s hips were pressed up against yours.

“It’s not my fault you’re always jealous of me,” you breathe, his face inches from yours.

Harry snorted a laugh out of his nose, his eyes slowly blinking and looking away from you, before staring directly at you. “Oh, please, now who has it backwards?” His right arm went up beside your head and his hand rested on the cold stone next to you. His breath, from his laughter and words, fanning over your face, made you close your eyes at the warmth.

You moved both of your hands up to his chest, and he looked down at the movement. One moved up to grip his shoulder and the other fiddled with the cross that had caught your attention when he had folded his arms.

After a beat, Harry said your name, barely above a whisper. Your head tilted up, looking up at him questioningly. You didn’t really understand the position the two of you had shifted yourselves into. “Can I kiss you?” Harry asked.

“Do you want to?”

“Kind of…” He ran a finger over your cheekbone.

Your eyes danced with mischief “Why?”

“Are you serious?” Harry asked in slight disbelief.

“As a heart attack,” you said gravely, throwing the words he had used earlier back at him. He sighed a slight laugh.

“Like I said, infuriating…”

Just as he was about to pull away, you reached up and connected your lips with his. Your hand cupped his strong jaw and brought him closer to you. His warm, wet lips pushed against yours with vigor. There was passion in the kiss. A constant push and pull for who got to be in control. You sucked on his lower lip, trying to get him to open up his mouth, but he declined.

He pressed you further onto the wall, while cradling your head to keep it from knocking against the concrete. His teeth nipped at your lip after a few more moments of fervent open mouth kisses without tongue. You resigned to not getting your way and let his tongue lick into you. Your tongue pressed against his as the two of you continued kissing. While his mouth was harsh, the rest of his touch was mostly soft. The hand that didn’t cradle your head was rubbing up and down your side, only venturing down to your bottom occasionally and squeezing quickly.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping slightly for air. He then rested his forehead against yours and you looked at him from beneath your lashes. One of your hands was now twisted in his curls, while the other was gripping his shirt, over the dried vodka spill from earlier. You smiled as you exhaled a big breath. Harry chuckled giddily.

“That was hot,” you said.

“Y’know, having similar tastes...might not be such a bad thing after all.”

“Knowing us we probably like all the same things…” you trailed off, blushing at the suggestion.

“Why don’t we find out sometime,” Harry winked before brushing his lips against yours once more.

Pecks weren’t possible for either of you though, both of you furiously pressing back together, hungry for more of the heat that came from you kissing.

“That’d be nice,” you whimpered against his lips.

“I think it’d be more than nice…” Harry brought his head down to suck on a part of your exposed cleavage, one of his legs pressed between yours, pushing slightly up into your heat. A strangled moan left your lips as you tried to stifle it. Harry chuckled, his face moved up to right beside your ear, “You’d probably love to have me take you right here, huh?”

His leg pressed up into you and your body automatically grinded down on the pressure. The alcohol and sexual grinding from earlier had gotten you horny and the making out with Harry had definitely heightened your desire.

“But we both know you can’t,” you gained your strength and pressed a little on his shoulders.

As much as you desired Harry right now and he seemed to desire you, as well, he was right. You two were extremely similar and would never actually have sex in a bar alleyway, as much as you might want to in the moment. You both laughed, releasing the sexual tension that was surrounding you.

“I know, but it’s fun to pretend we could...How about we go to my place and see what other fantasies we share?” Harry twisted a strand of your hair in his large hand.

“For once, I’m happy to be on the same page as you, Harry,” you grinned. He picked you up and spun you around, making you shriek in laughter, before heading back into the bar to gather your stuff.

You were quick to scurry out of the bar after telling your friends you were both leaving, tired from everything that had happened. Everyone simply nodded, but the minute you were far enough away they all snickered about the lipstick smeared on the corners of Harry’s lips and your terribly mused hair. Mitch even placed a twenty in the palm of Sarah’s open hand, shaking his head in defeat.

-

Tag list: @cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrxier @harrys-cherrry @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #majorharry20k #please enjoy #and give feedback #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry rec #fic rec

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.7 (finale)

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.6

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford sat on the kitchen floor with his back against the cupboards, clinging to his knees, his glasses still in hand. His throat was sore and his eyes hurt and his nose was runny and his heart was raw and broken, and yet he wasn’t done crying. Though he was done sobbing and occasionally crying so hard he thought he would throw up, free-flowing tears still streamed down his face as he hid the bottom-half of his head in his beefy arms. 

“What do we do now?” He moaned.

Stan looked at the know-it-all who didn’t have a clue. He sighed and moved to sit next to him, his back against the cupboard and his knees up by his chest as he combed his mullet. “I dunno… Sit here and die?”

Ford hiccuped a cruel laugh and buried his face in his arms fully. “I wish I could.”

Stan snorted. “What’s that saying? The good die young?”

Ford groaned and started to sob again. 

Stan rubbed his back, his head against the cupboard and he looked up at the ceiling. “O-Okay, okay… Let’s think about this. So we never made up, or something else really bad happened between us, and that’s the timeline Mabel was from, right?”

“Right.” Ford gruffed, lifting his head up and rubbing his eyes dry.

“So, since that didn’t happen, or it happened differently… B-But that doesn’t mean she’s… She’ll still exist in our timeline, won’t she? She’s gonna be okay?” He asked the scientist, digging for some kind of hope.

Ford sighed and rested his cleft chin on his arms. “As long as what happened didn’t interfere with Alex’s life too much… Which I don’t know how it could… Mabel and Dipper should still be born in 1999. There’s a small possibility they’ll be different than what they once were, or because of some unseen butterfly effect, their birth might be different or might not happen at all… But…”

The eldest by fifteen minutes slipped his glasses back on, stood, and said stubbornly, “I’m going to do what I can to ensure it is a better future than what the kids had. Our entire family was broken because of what we did and didn’t do. Clearly either one of us went insane or died or something horrible, and I won’t allow that to happen.”

“I don’t think we gotta worry too much about that happening.” Stan said from down on the floor. “I mean, if Mabel changed things so much that an entire reality changed, then we don’t really gotta do much except not screw this up.”

Ford laughed and held out a hand to his twin, who gladly clasped it and stood. “You’re right.”

But the men were disheartened to finally notice the mess in the kitchen. Mabel’s cake batter sat on the flour-dusted counter, the oven was hot and ready for baking, and the muffin tray was on the floor from where Mabel dropped it. Ford looked down at the sweater he was wearing - the sweater she had knitted for him - and without a word he walked to the living room and saw Mabel’s knitting sitting on the couch where she had left it, a completed red sweater with a golden heart on it.

Ford smiled mournfully and held the sweater as Stan joined him and gasped at the sweater. The big brother held it out to the little brother and croaked, “We’ll see her again.”

Stan smiled, cleared his throat, and took off his hoodie and snagged the new sweater to slip it over his old white t-shirt. “Yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~

July 22nd, 1980

Ford held the lantern up to better read the writing in the cave. He peered at it and was intrigued by a description of a being with answers. It would be summoned if he read out-loud, and though there were many clear warnings against this, the desperate scientist was extremely tempted.

“Sixer! Let’s move before we get caved in or some shit.” Stan called as he walked up to Ford. “What are you reading, cavemen graffiti?”

“Look, Stanley, there are tales of an all-knowing being with answers. It could help me with my theory…”

“Nope.” Stan grabbed Ford by the collar of his trenchcoat and dragged him away like dragging a child out of a toy store.

“Stanley! Let me go!”

“That shit’s got bad voodoo written all over it! You’ve gotta be inhaling toxic cave gas or something to think summoning a demon is a good idea!”

“We don’t know it’s a demon.”

“Really? Then why does that wall read in old blood ‘Do not summon demon!’?”

“Huh. Well, um…”

“That’s what I thought, now don’t make me pick you up and carry you. Let’s move.” And he lightly shoved Ford forward to lead the walk away from the cave and through the tunnels for sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alex’s wedding was wonderful and a joyous day, but it also made Ford and Stan nervous. They both agreed not to say a word to anyone (as far as Fiddleford knew, Ford had found the girl’s parents and all was over and ended well), and white they were happy to be one step closer to meeting the kids, they were slightly worried that something might be different than Mabel’s timeline.

She never told them her mother’s name. Did Alex marry someone else? Did they marry at the correct time? There was no way of telling, and they both agreed to allow themselves to enjoy the day and maybe drink a little. Or a lot. 

~~~~~~~~~~

When Shermie called and told them that Alex and Dana were going to have a baby, Ford choked on his coffee and Stan dropped the phone. They silently exchanged looks and were terrified that there was only one baby. But it was seven months before the end of August, so maybe the new parents were choosing to keep everything a surprise. Knowing Alex, that is something he would do, especially if there were twins. A beautiful surprise for his twin uncles.

So they congratulated Shermie and made him swear to call them if anything happened so they could be there. And despite their fear, they were very joyous of becoming grunkles again.

~~~~~~~~~~

August 31st, 1999

The entire week leading up to the day, the men were incredibly anxious. The birthday was on 31st, which meant Dipper and Mabel could be born at 1am on the 31st, or 11pm on the 31st. They had no way of knowing, but as long as that damn telephone stayed silent, they weren't leaving the house all weekend. Neither of them slept the night of the 30th, just in case.

Finally, a little after coffee on the 31st, the phone rang. Both Ford and Stan tackled each other and fought for it, but Stan sat on Ford and grabbed it first.

“Stanley, get off me!”

“Stanley, what are you doing to your brother?” Shermie chuckled on the other end.

“Nevermind that, Sherm!” Stan laughed. “What’s going on with you?” He asked casually, though he smiled down at Ford, who smiled back, despite still being sat on in the kitchen.

“Well, you guys know I’m gonna be a grandpa soon…”

“Really? Had no idea.” Stan said sarcastically as he stood up to get off Ford. “So? Is it happening now?!” Ford ran down the hall.

Shermie laughed. “Yup. I just got here myself and Alex and Dana got here about twenty minutes ago.”

“Piedmont Hospital, right?”

“Right.”

“We’ll be there in six hours.”

“It’s an eight hour drive!”

“I said six hours!”

“STANL-” But Stan hung up the phone.

Stan hurried up to his attic bedroom and dressed in his baby-blue Hawaiian shirt and slacks, while also grabbing a suitcase he’s had ready all week, prepared to stay as long as Alex and Dana needed him.

He ran back downstairs with suitcase in hand, with Ford by the door, and they sprinted into the Stanmobile and drove down the road.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shermie was waiting for them in the hall, beaming with joy, and his little brothers ran to him for a tackle-hug.

“Good to see you, Grandpa!”

“Congratulations, Shermie!”

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Did we miss it?!” Stan asked. “Has it happened yet?!”

Shermie grinned and nodded. “Yes, everyone is safe and fine.” And he opened the door.

The aged explorers beamed (and no, they weren’t crying) to find Alex holding one baby and Dana holding another baby. The eldest pair of twins high-sixed and cheered and then gently approached the little ones, beaming down at them.

It was like they had been holding their breath for twenty years, and now they could finally breathe.

“What are their names?” Ford asked quietly, seeing how each newborn was sleeping soundly.

“This is Mabel,” Alex introduced, giving the bundle to Stan.

“And this is Mason.” Dana said tiredly, giving her son to Ford to hold.

Stan and Ford were a bit concerned with the name change, but one look at the baby boy relaxed them. Of course a name like Dipper was a nickname.

“Matching names, huh?” Stan asked cheekily, cradling Mabel and looking down at her with shining brown eyes.

“We couldn’t help ourselves.” Alex chuckled.

Ford’s eyes were glued to Mason. While of course he had been dying to see Mabel again, he had also been excited to meet his science-loving nephew. He was so cute and small in his polydactyl hands and Ford knew it would take a lot more strength than what he had to let him go.

The author tore his eyes away to see his twin looking down at Mabel with tears in his eyes, holding her close to his heart and trying really hard to hold it together, but his joy and peace was far stronger than any bad habits that stopped him from showing his emotions. Stan lightly kissed Mabel’s cheek and Ford saw his lips barely move, though he didn’t hear what he said. Which was fine by him. Ford smiled back down at Mason, finally content.

No one heard him say it, thank Moses, but Stan couldn’t help himself. He had whispered to his niece as quiet as a mouse, “I’ve missed you, pumpkin.”

And finally, after all these years, the small hole in the boys’ hearts could be filled.

THE END!

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #timestuck au #fanfiction #stangst #thank you guys SO much for reading! #im sorry i hurt you last chapter #hopefully this makes up for it ^^; #august 31st

[conagherwilbur]

I present to you...

Stop-Motion Photos!!

[from the Fireman Sam Annual 1988 !]

I LOVE THESE SO MUCH these are ... mostly the reason why i bought the annual before waiting for a better price (fucking $70 for the bastard)

i Cannot under any circumstances wait to receive my daily dose of puppet people /j

Here we go! Teeny Jupiter on an unspecified road! I’ve never noticed that ladder before in the show, i wonder if Pontypandy was sort of built by water originally?? or maybe that road is built across a mini dam; I remember in one of the buzz books there was a story about everyone going to the beach and idk if it specified how close or far it was from the village but 👀 there were houses in the background.

Have i ever said how much i love Normans stupid little haircut.. ITS LIKE HE NEVER COMBS IT its a fuckimg mop turn him upside down and drag him across the floor. no but please give him a lil ponytail or a bun and watch him suffer /hj ALSO THE FLOWERING PLANT GROWING FROM THE TOP OF THAT VIADUCT,, I LOVE HOW MUCH DETAIL THERE IS IN ALL THE SETS!

We can get a good look at Dilys’s hair in this, kind of forgot she has hair OOPS.. but like for real i wonder what it would look like when her curlers were taken out?? hate or love the girl she’s got to have some bitchin’ hair /pos

AS WELL AS SAM, IDK WHAT IT IS ABOUT THESE PICTURES BUT ITS JUST..... SO INVIGORATING TO SEE THEIR FACES UP CLOSE IN HIGH QUALITY LO0K AT THE MAN!! LOOK AT HIS STUPID PAPER MOUTH i want to eat it . and the way his quiff fucking dips down at the end I LOVE HOW UNKEMPT IT LOOKED IN THE FIRST THREE SEASONS LIKE YEAH HONEY GO JUST GET UP AND BRUSH YOUR HAIR WITH A TOOTHBRUSH

Here's Bella, the awesome woaman who didn’t deserve to be stereotyped as an idiot in most of the booksssss 😬 but like... ngl damn she looks fine *wrist flick* not that im a lesbian but......................... /hj

anyways i would love to see her hair upclose its so fucking pretty I LOVE her sense of fashion too bih pleasge let me see the rest of your wardrobe

the puppies :) i have no idea what kind of hairstyle James is supposed to have AT ALL but.. i kind of like to think he styles it a bit after his uncle, but his hair is longer so he makes do with a hefty fuckin cowlick and omf PLEASE with the little hairs sticking out on the crown of their heads i want that utilized more in general please

also also im kinda jealous of Sarah’s overalls girl please who tf made those for you or WHERE DID YOU BUY THEM bc i want pink overalls with a scenic tree in the center

Poopiter once again pulling into the fire station driveway.. love how awkward and unbalanced the house on the left is LOL i also rly like the implications that Pontypandy has a very condensed neighborhood area and the high street (inlcudes Dilys’s shop, Bella’s cafe, the park) is rly the only market place in town n then the outskirts are almost NOTHING

EELIVS MY BELOVED HELLO!! I LOVE this picture for... two reasons mostly, one is because of Elvis thats literally it. jk but GOD im .imfm,,, i love how he’s so tall his shirt sleeves (and sometimes the collar) stick out of his uniform and ig his hair looks so malleable i want to compress it with a hydraulic press. i wonder how much pomade he goes through in a week?? the other reason is that... Jupiter’s tire looks VERY out of place, in the sense that it looks like she’s almost tilted to the side somehow?? Like gurl you dont look like you’re planted on the ground 🙄

AND THEN FINALLY THIS ONE!! This is the exact picture Sam keeps on his nightstand minus Sarah and James, which is super cool to me honestly;;; bc like i can just imagine they were both plucked from the set after their picture was taken and just shoved somewhere else (delicately, they are flowers) Theres two versions of Fireman Sam i love; one is the show and the other is the puppets themselves. i have such a burning desire to go and rob them from whoever owns them and just. holld them 🥺 do i overshare my thoughts? yes i do but this may be the only chance i get and im going at it 100%

..................

im... so sorry for literally only posting random pictures from all the annuals i own and that are also NOT ONLINE FOR PEOPLE TO VIEW... I SWEAR ill upload them all to internet archive at some point

i also need to .yknow WRITE, OR DRAW AND NOT JUST SHARE TEHSE although yall seem to like them :) unfortunately tho there aren’t any other pictures like these in the annuals :(

anyway YES HERE YOU GO another weeks-worth of me rambling about pictures of puppets i love with all my heart

#fireman sam #elvis cridlington #jupiter the fire engine #dilys price #norman price #sarah and james #station officer steele #childrens books #im flooding the fs tag you guys im so sorry #i usually never branch out and share this much with whatever else im in #im NEW AT BELONGING TO A COMMUNITY IN GENERAL

[heyitsyn]

Keeping Up With Seijoh Pt. 10

a/n: based on this post uwu

okayokayokayyeyyy

LOOOK I LOVE THIS SCENE LIKE I CAN GO ON A RANT OF HOW IMPORTANT THIS SCENE IS LIKE SKDJSLDKKSSM

okay so

yuhhhhhh

the way this is set up is basically seijoh simping for you

also they have their own separate gc just for them bc they dont want you to see them just simping for you

even tho oiks ltr does that everyday

but hes not ready for that conversation

there was a few times that you were kinda curious as to what was in the chat

but they would click off and they would blush before diverting you to a different conversation

this might sound hella weird and creepy

idk bout yall but i think its cute that they take random pictures of you doing the sinplest things

this all started bc of one picture

from baby aki-kun

so basically you stayed behind with kunimi during monday to just study and you sat in front of him while sharing his desk

babie took a pic of you just studying and he sent it to the gc with no context

its a known fact that seijoh doesnt practice during mondays so they were all doing something out of school

but they were all missing you so seeing you with kunimi fueled jealousy in everyone

even kyo

oikawa blew up in the chat and was keyboard smashing

the others were just teasing him like hes lucky youre with him

but behind the screen, they were blushing and red and envious and AAAAA

thus spurred on some sort of competition

like they would send the chat pictures of you like 'hA TAKE THAT SHES WITH ME'

unbeknowst to you, these boys have folders of just cute candid pics of you

oikawas insta is filled of you and his snap is full of you in his story and his tiktok is full of screaming simp rants about you

the tiktok comments are all like, 

‘IS SHE YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!’

‘OIKAWA-SAN SHES ADORABLE’

‘BACK🤺OFF🤺OIKAWA🤺I🤺CALLED🤺DIBS🤺ON🤺HER🤺FIRST🤺‘

random ones like him doing a day in my life type of vids and you appearing and everyone can just see the small blush on his face and the bashful yet happy smile on his lips

its really adorable

but the real ones know that shes been appearing in his insta since day 1

moilk.bread.1

thats practically your account now 

welll,,,

its more of a fan account for you and a lot of people from aoba johsai follow that account since you dont have an official one yet so they all simp for you there

the pictures were all from everyone like the boyz group chat was a haven for your candids

you did think it was strange that the boys would constantly ask to take pictures with you and everyone was just trying to get a pic to have aesthetic couple pics w you

and they would put it as their wallpaper or lockscreen

IMAGINE THE BLUSH THEY WOULD GET WHEN COMPLETE STRANGERS WOULD ASK THEM IF THATS THEIR GIRLFRIEND

oooo i mentioned this in the post too that iwa and you went to the gym and you guys took a mirror pic

after, you didnt really like the gym bc its just hard yanno?

iwa went back and while he was setting up his weights and equipments, his gym buddy noticed his phone light up causing your picture to show up

'oh? is that your girlfriend, iwaizumi?'

duh he doesnt have a girlfriend so he was like 🤨 until he saw his phone

the lockscreen was blaringly bright and your 'couple pic' was showing with the notifications

totally not oikawa blowing up their group chat bc he was with you

ofc babie hajime got all flustered and he blushed before shaking his head

'n-no'

he mumbled and his buddy laughed before clapping his back

'well, you obviously like her so do somethinf about it before someone does'

dont you think he doesnt know that?

also with mattsun!

this mans works in a cute cafe that this old granny owns and this thought has been living in my head rent free

and he was working during the weekend at the cafe

there were other people there but granny loves him bc hes been working there sibce he was like 15 and she took care of him a lot

he was like a grandson

so while he was serving, this granny was manning the cashier and checking people out

issei's phone was there on the table behind the counter and it started glowing at the indication of the messages being received

'have a nice day-oh!'

she noticed it right there and she saw the picture on his lockscreen

you were probably being carried by him due to your levelness with his height and you were kissing his cheek while issei smiled brightly

that was a picture you both took during an outing at the mall and the sunset behind you was just perfect to take a picture in

poor granny was like 'oop dont look at the messages' so she turned it over to not go to his privacy

there again you were

it was a polaroid of you two and he was backhugging you at school

hint? 👀

askldfjlsdkf

she knew issei was a very handsome young man so there shouldnt have been a surprise that he would be dating someone

can we name this granny?

granny inko lol

okay so granny inko saw issei coming over to rest the serving board thing and she beckoned him over

mattsun nodded and leaned over the counter to see what she wanted only to be greeted with a flick to the forehead

‘oW what was that for?’

he whined while holding the spot

granny inko tutted disapprovingly before crossing her arms

‘youve been working all week this week when you could’ve taken time off to spend it with your pretty lady. is this how men are nowadays? didn’t i teach you right to treat women properly?’

duh baby mattsun was confused like O_O

‘wha?’

his dumb question made her grab the phone and place it on the counter in front of him

‘your girlfriend, child. women need attention constantly and as much as you want that money, is it worth losing that smile full of happiness?’

okay stop it granny im getting emotional

more like disagreeing bc that wouldnt put food on the table BUT ANYWAYS

baby issei was surprisingly embarassed and scratched his neck

‘um,, baa-chan,,,,, she’s not my girlfriend’

he flustered and gave her an awkward smile

granny inko shot him a confused look and tapped the phone

‘well, she looks like she is. and if not, better hurry your move, boy. girls that make men happy like that only comes as rare as a good scratch ticket’

LMAO 

i do not encourage gambling so please save your money kids

you know what

these boys do that just to actually feel like it

okay thats confusing so imma explain it in greater detail

whenever someone mistakes you as their girlfriend, it makes them feel like you are for that split second and its just an addicting feeling

its like what if you were their girlfriend?

i mean, youre already the whole team’s girlfriend but theyre greedy brats and just want you for themselves

ohohohohoh

kyo!!

kyo def has a selfie of you both with the doggie filter but it was actually you who took it while he was just staring at you in the background

that was his lockscreen for like the rest of his high school career

lol

anyways!!

he was actually in a fight and during it, his phone fell off to the ground and conveniently oikawa messaged causing it to light up

one of the thugs had their hands gripping kyo’s collar and was pushing him against the wall while the others were surrounding them

they saw the phone flash and kyo cursed at the terrible timing and he made a mental note on killing oikawa later

a guy picked it up and he smirked, seeing the pretty smile of a pretty girl

‘heh? whats this?’

kyotani pushed the guy who was holding him but other two surged towards him and held him tighter

their leader snatched the device and chuckled

‘oh. its that bitch from his school. what is it’

he snaps his fingers as he tries to remember before stopping

‘aha! l/n y/n!’

kyo growled

‘shut up!’

the guy grinned at him and tapped the phone against kyo’s chin

‘oh yea. i heard shes a cutie. most people here know her, kid. now we know shes connected to you and guess what. you cross us again, she’ll take your place as you are right now. orrrr, we can,,, use her as our pet. thats how she is in your team, right? so let us have a turn. maybe we can send you a pic, hm?’

yea no that wasnt happening

kyotani easily beat those people up after because even just saying that unleashes power he didnt know he had

‘bastard. youre lucky this is just a warning. you touch her and i will kill you’

he landed one last kick on the guy’s face before taking the phone and leaving

now he has to figure out how to hide the bruises

you fussed later and he didnt tell you the reason instead just saying they said something that made him angry

nah

you were a person he didnt want to disappoint and he knows how much it hurts you to see him in that state

that was one of the things he hated but loved at the same time

you were such an empath that you would treat him and wince as if you were the one feeling the pain instead of him

and it made him feel special

you were one of the few things he holds close and he would be damned if anything happened to you because of him

the group chat was actually just blowing up with more screaming and the third years yelling at each other with the first years just casually reading the texts

they were used to the arguments within the team and you would remain so naive with the whole thing

kunimi is the type to keep silent and he didnt really care about anyone getting angry if you were spending time with him

but he does get annoyed if you were with kindaichi because you three were a package lol

like when kindaichi and you were at the arcade, this kid walked all the way there just because he didnt want kindaichi to hog you to himself

duh you thought this was adorable and endearing bc they wanted to hang out w you

no LUV theyre greedy brats who gets jealous over yOU

OH

so like i mentioned before that you and makki would walk over to the bakery and you guys would buy food there and such

and its also canon in here that makki only shares his food with you and no one else lol

why?

because when you eat the puffs, you put one in each cheek and it makes you look so adorable like a squirrel

sorry but squirrels are so cute like AAAAA

makki takes so many pictures of you and a lot are surprise shots where your eyes would be wide with cheeks full of food

aaaaa so cute

like you and makki sat down on a bench in the park across the bakery and you excitedly dug in to your own treat

makki chuckled at your excitement but he placed his hand on you arm to stop you

‘y/n-chan. say aaa’

you lit up and let him put the puff in your mouth and thought he was done but was surprised when there were two

you happily chewed it and went back to looking at your treats

but makki interrupted you again by calling you out

‘princess~’

the nickname made your eyes widen with red painting your cheeks and the shutter of the camera made you realize what he did

‘makki-senpai!’

you whined and he laughed

makki had a lovestruck smile on his face and he wiped the bit of creme on the corner of your lip

‘gotta take care of my princess~’

STOPPPPP MY HEART? GONE MY SOUL? GONE HOTEL? TRIVAGO

OH MY GOD IM IN SUCH A MAKKI AND MATTSUN AND IWA AND OIKAWA AND THIRD YEARS IN GENERAL BRAIN ROT PLEASE HELP

but we gotta give love to the second years :’)

ive mentioned that watari is the only person to ever go into your house right?

well, he comes over to cook and such so you guys spend time making food for the team 

watari takes this opportunity to take pictures of you cooking and the group chat cries bc its so domestic and they all start having the same thoughts

they really said seijoh braincells

it was like seeing a glimpse of a possible future for them

you, wearing an apron, cooking on the stove with your hair thrown in whatever with baggy clothes

gosh

thats like you someday being their wife and waking up one morning to see you there cooking in the kitchen

oikawa swears he had a dream that night because of that picture and he continuously thanks watari for YEARS because of that picture

okay are you curious about the dream?

yuhhh

oikawa woke up in an unfamiliar bed in a foreign room 

he felt his bones crack when he stretched and his hand extended out to a side that was still quite warm

hm

somebody must be sleeping next to him

then he stood up, catching his reflection in the mirror in front of the bed

;)

why would there be a mirror there hmmmm????

ANYWAYS

he noticed he had a bigger build and his hair was longer

then came the itch of the facial hair that he swore wasnt there a minute ago

this guy even checked out his butt and to his surprise, wow

obviously he was confused and a part of him thought this was the future

tooru walked to the door to go into the hallway and concluded, yep, this was not his house

then he heard music being played somewhere and a mixture of voices coming from a room

sounded like a woman and children

he stops at the top of the stairs, suddenly hit of the thought that this voice was so familiar

‘hm?’

tooru walked downstairs and stopped when down the hallway in front of the steps led to the kitchen where the voices seemed to lead to

‘mama! mama! mama! toast! i wan toast!’

‘in a bit, darling. just let me finish flipping the pancake’

the song was lo-fi with the volume being turned low enough to hear the voices fine

tooru wandered down the hallway and he stopped, finally seeing the owners of those voices

there was a handsome little boy sitting on the chair by the island and his brown hair was a mess of wild curls

there was a woman with h/c hair swaying to the tune and a beautiful little girl curled up in her arms while sitting on her hip

‘hey’

oikawa spoke out and caught everyone’s attention

‘papa’s awake!’

‘pa!’

‘hello tooru’

tooru froze

that was you

he knows it’s you

‘y/n-chan’

he whispered and you looked back at him from the pan

‘yes? if youre looking for coffee, we ran out apparently’

that was not what he was talking about

he hastily walked over to the boy and he blinked rapidly

‘you look like me’

he mumbled and the child grinned

‘eung! papa  and yozo look the same! mama and nana say so!’

yozo?

feeling like all the attention was on him, the little girl whined and her hands made grabby motions to him

‘pa pa’

she whined and tooru just felt something in him that screamed to hold the kid

you shushed the little girl

‘dont worry, looney loon. papa’s right there’

loon?

tooru stayed frozen at his spot and you raised an eyebrow at him

‘tooru? luna wants you’

oh

luna

that snapped him out of his trance and he held the little girl in his arms where she smiled at him and then he felt tears welling up in his eyes

then he woke up

okay sorry that was a long dream

so this dragged on for so long already okay

this was only meant to be small but aaaaa i couldnt help itt!!!!

but anyways!

the boys are just simps for you and theyre creeps that take pictures of you and they think about you all the time pls accept their love

also a mild continuation of the dream:

oikawa was holding luna and she was happily laying there when another figure emerged from the hallway

‘iwa-chan?’

he asked, surprised

what was he doing here?

iwa heard his name and grunted before going to a beeline for you

you smiled at him and he leaned in to give you a kiss to which oikawa froze in

iwa noticed his best friend holding his daughter and luna saw her father there

‘daddy!’

she shrieked and tooru blanched

‘uh, what?’

iwa extended his hands out to hold the girl but tooru held her tightly and leaned back

haji narrowed his eyes

‘um, give me my daughter, oikawa’

he grumbled and tooru shook his head

‘no! shes my daughter!’

you blinked

‘your god daughter, yes. but she’s half of your best friend, tooru’

half of his-

god? daughter?

‘so that means-’

‘piece it together, oikawa. did ya get brain damage or something? babe, call the doctor’

oikawa screamed

a/n: lol look WHO ROSE FROM THE GRAVEEEEEEE :) anyways. i really want to deeply apologize to everyone for taking an unexpected break and i shouldve told you guys and im really sorry :( everythings just chaotic lmao and im just like taking a breath for a second uwu and im so AMAZED at how many people still follow me even tho ive been gone for so long like bls yall are real ones :’) i love you all and the req box is still closed at this time as i need to finish the ones i have first soo thankyou for reading thiss and hopefully ill update soonerr!!! :)))

also not me completely messing up my kuws and missing 8 and 9 in my masterlist and having a mindblowing realization that i have 10 keeping up with seijoh fics

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #aoba johsai #aoba johsai x reader #aoba josai #aoba josai x reader #seijoh #aoba johsai imagines #aoba josai imagines #seijoh imagines #seijoh manager #haikyuu manager #haikyuu!! manager #aoba johsai manager #aoba josai manager #seijoh x reader #aoba johsai headcanons #aoba josai headcanons #seijoh headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #aoba johsai fluff #aoba josai fluff #seijoh fluff

[kvj-novels]

Senku x fem named!reader

Rating: this chapter is A for Adults (minors be warned)

Warnings: this fic has elements of smut and a mention of eating disorders THIS CHAPTER DOES CONTAIN SOME CONTENT WITH THESE WARNINGS - check tags. 

Summary: Imogen has been awakened from petrification but she suffers from amnesia upon waking up. Senku and Taiju - her lover and childhood friend (respectively) before the petrification - must do their best to help her recall her past life.

Smut summary: soft sex, first time, no warnings but very NSFW.

Authors Note: I wanna start this off by saying I’m very proud of this piece. But I also want to say I’m sorry if some of the descriptions aren’t top tier as this is my first time writing smut. But I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did while writing it! ;) 

Chapter Seven - final chapter

“What are you two up to?” Senku’s voice echoed off the rock as he approached Taiju and I.  I sat up and smiled. “He’s telling me about awkward little me and the things I did.” “Oof, hopefully he’s not telling about awkward little me too.” “Only a little bit.” I winked.  He chuckled. “Hey, we should change those bandages back at the lookout. Can I steal her away, Taiju?” “Go a head. Do you need help walking down, Imogen?” “I can carry her if she does.” Senku said, taking my hand. “Thank you, Taiju. Let’s do this again tomorrow?” “I’ll come get after breakfast.” He said as we walked off.  “Phew, finally sneaking away.” Senku said.  “Did you get all your work done?” “Most of it. Right now we’re in the waiting process for it.” He said. “Hey, do you need help? I don’t want your feet to get more cut up with all these rocks.” “Well, I don’t need help, but wouldn’t mind not getting more cuts.” “Perfect. On my back it is then.” He said, squatting down. I hopped up onto his back and he carried me to the small hospital again.  “So, how did it go with Taiju?” “He told me a lot. Apparently his family adopted me because my parents went to jail. Taiju is technically my brother and not just a friend.” Senku went to work on my bandages as I told him some of the stories of my past. He intently listened while I spoke, rambling the stories out.  I noticed he was smirking at me and I stopped for second. “W-what?” “Nothing. I just...I mean you’re very...” he laughed at himself “you’re really cute when you go off about something interesting to you.” “Oh fuck off.” I laughed as I blushed.  He winked. “Don’t tempt me.” He said, finishing off the bandages. He crawled onto the bed top of me, planting a kiss to my neck.  I let out a soft moan, biting my lip.  He chuckled and got off the bed, sitting at my side to take off the small bandage on my head.  “Oh this one healed up nicely. I shouldn’t have to cover it again. Just a bit of tape to keep it together.” He cleaned it and put some tape over it.  I sat up when he was finished, sliding hand to the back his head and kissing him.  I felt his hand on my hip move up to my waist.  “Mm you’re gonna get me in trouble.” He whispered between kisses.  “Good.” I said with a smirk.  He winked and looked back towards the entrance. “Let’s take this to the bed shall we?” He got up, holding my hand to take me with him. I followed him to the room inside the tower. He shut the door to the hole and locked it.  “I’m definitely not getting interrupted this time.” He said with a smirk.  I licked my lips, and tugged the hem of my dress up, teasing him by dancing and swinging my hips to an unheard song. He took in the sight, smirk plastered to his lips and hunger in his eyes.  I winked and beaconed him closer with my finger. He took the floor in two strides and grabbed my ass as he stepped into my space.  I trailed a finger down his chest and grabbed the hem of his shirt when I reached the bottom. Pulling it up, he took the shirt by the collar and ripped it off over his head. I placed a kiss to his collar bone, and he let out a gentle gasp. I smiled and went up on my toes, my lips brushing his ear.  “Tell me, have we had sex in the past?” “No.” He whispered.  “Have you had sex at all?” I gently bit his ear lobe. “N-no.” He stuttered. “Have you?” “I can’t remember. First for both of us, what do you say?”  He shook his, turning to look at me. Placing an arm around my waist he kissed me deeply. Then without warning he pulled the rope belt off my waist and tugged the shirt down off my shoulders.  It feel to my feet. He took in the sight of my body, completely naked in front of him.  “Damn...”  “Your turn.” I winked. He kicked off his shoes and quickly tossed his pants aside. I came up behind him and kissed his shoulder blade, wrapping my arms around his waist and snaking a hand a little further down until I reached his erection.  He shuddered a bit when I took it in my hand.  “I don’t suppose you’ve made condoms yet?” I asked.  “Oof. Not yet.” He turned to face me. “Should we wait until I can?” I put a finger over his lips. “No.” I whispered. “Just pull out, okay?” He shook his head and I kissed him, reaching down for his dick again. He let out a moan and threw his head back a bit when I stroked the shaft. His dick was throbbing, I could feel it twitch in my hand. I went down to my knees and kissed the tip before taking it in my mouth.  He tangled a hand into my hair and I looked up to check if he was still okay.  He was watching with eager eyes so I took him further into my mouth before pulling it out to the tip and releasing it with a pop.  I winked before turning my full attention to eager cock in front of me. Taking it in my mouth again, I went as deep as I could, spurred on by Senku’s groan.  I held the base of his shaft with my hand and pleasured his cock, pushing it into my cheek, going all the way down, teasing the tip.  All the while he held my hair, tugging when he reached a high or coaxing me to go deeper.  When I focused on the tip he shuddered.  “W-wait, wait I’m gonna come.” He said. I took him out of mouth and smirked.  “Not yet.” I said. I hopped onto the bed and he followed me over.  “My turn,” he said, taking my knees and spreading them wide. He got to his knees on the floor and flicked his tongue at my clitoris, keeping his eyes on me. “Go for it.” I smirked. He pushed into my dripping lips. I threw my head back as he lapped at the warmth.  A moan escaped my lips and he got a little more comfortable, gripping my hips with one hand and slipping a finger into my pussy with the other. I rocked my hips up as he fingered my pussy and sucked at my cum. My clit found it’s way into his mouth and I bucked up. He chuckled, holding onto my ass and stimulating my clit with his tongue.  I groaned, “P-please,” a whimper fell out of lips and I moaned. He released my pussy and crawled onto the bed between my legs.  He lined up his dick and slammed it in as far as he could.  “Oh, fuck!” I cried out with a moan, gripping at his back and leaving scratches.  “S-sorry.” He whispered. “I got a bit excited.” I chuckled, “don’t be.” He started to thrust, slow and long at first, taking in every inch of my body with gentle kisses. I closed my eyes, rocking my hips to his thrusts and reaching up to grab his hair which had fallen down and was half covering his face.  “Faster.” I whispered. He obeyed and picked up his speed, the floor creaked with each rock of the bed. I moaned feeling my walls tighten. He let out a groan followed by a swear.  “Oh, fuck, Imogen.” His balls smacked into my ass as he continued, going harder with the rise of the climax.  “I-I’m close.” I whispered.  “Ffuck me too.”  “Pull out when you need to.”  He managed a little longer, enjoying the pace we maxed out at. I threw my head back into the blanket on the bed, my release came a moment later and Senku pulled out. He pushed my legs shut and slammed his cock between them, riding out his climax between my thighs.  His cum landed on my stomach and tits. He flopped onto the bed beside me and let out a content sigh.  “Holy fuck.” He breathed.  “That was fun,” I leaned over and kissed his cheek.  He smirked. “I agree.” “Where’s your shower? I’m gonna need to wash this off.” I laughed.  “Oops.” He said with a wink. “Fraid o don’t have any showers in here. We’ll have to run to the river quick. The only showers are in the village.” “You down for some skinny dipping then?” I sat up and grabbed his shirt that I was wearing.  He chuckled. “You bet.” He said, grabbing his pants and two towels. We carefully made our way through the forest to the river, it was much easier this time now that I had shoes too. We broke through the trees and I tossed my dress off.  “Catch me if you can!” I stuck my tongue out and ran towards the water.  “Hey-wha-thats not fair!” He said, hurrying to strip off his pants and run after me.  I kicked my shoes off by the water and ran into the river up to my hips. Senku caught up to me, grabbed me by the waist and spun me around.  We both fell into the water when he misstepped. I came up laughing and splashed him. he splashed back even harder. We both settled down after a fit of laughter. The water felt amazing during the mid day heat and I sunk into it up to my shoulders. Senku was smiling while he watched me.  “Hm?” 

He tossed his head to the right to sweep some hair out of his face. “I forgot that life with you is absolutely exhilarating.” He said with a grin.

********

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#smut #senku smut #senku x reader #senku x fem #taiju oki #dr stone fanfic #dr stone #fanfic #one shots