#and i will end my case with a new answer for their behavior: they have undiagnosed neurodivergent swag

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K.

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

Trope: Enemies/friends to lovers.

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

m.list

Blame it on the ovulation process. You couldn't believe that you ended up making out (drunkly) and fucking the one and only Bakugo Katsuki.

Bakugo was a total pain in the ass back in UA high school, and after the big battle, when the doctor told him to cooperate after his heart injury and surgery, he changed for better. Well... better is a word to describe it.

He had the looks, he had the attitude, and now, in College UA, he found a way to get the chicks at his feet. Who knew he would be good at flirting and getting the female attention, putting aside his obnoxious and loud behavior?

In the other part, you knew better, but damn, now you felt bad, betrayed by your own hormones, doing the walk of shame to your room.

Bakugo Katsuki was a fucking legend in college, the major fuckboy, hoping from chick to chick and jeez that broke all your standards about boys, how did you even end up in his room?

Oh, that was a good question that you could answer. Fucking cosmopolitans made by Denki and Jirou, they wrecked all your senses and because the planets were aligned you ended ip tearing up all his clothes along with him grabbing every part of your body while eating your mouth. He was a good kisser though.

You slid your keys on the lock of your room door. Jirou was there in her bed, laying with Denki who was sound asleep.

"Girl," she sat in seconds at the sight of you, patting Denki's arm to wake him up.

"Don't," you told her, completely defeated. "I just wanna cry"

You couldn't stop the tears streaming down your face.

For you, giving Bakugo your body and an intimate moment wasn't something to be happy for. He wasn't in your to-do list compared to other girls that you knew were dying for a peak of him.

You believed in love, in the vulnerability that it brought alongside the happiness and the sappiness. You wanted to be loved and not be used. For you, Bakugo wasn't a trophy, he was a mistake.

"Just let it go." Jirou hugged you tightly. "Did he do something to you?"

"No, no," you cried in her shoulder, feeling her arms around your body and Denki cli ging in your back. "He was a complete gentleman,"

You hated yourself for reacting like that. The man gave you all of his stamina pounding himself into you, and he was almost romantic about it. You were a fool, not like you were catching feeling upon the act, not at all. You just didn't want to be one more of his long ass list.

You had a single rule. Don't sleep with people you don't have feelings for. You knew that for some people, it was easy not to get attached but for you, even if you didn't feel anything like sentimental after the act you ended up craving the affection and the tenderness that came up with a relationship.

You've slept with boyfriends in the past and you did good with friends with benefits because at least there was a friendship to cling on, in this case, you only knew Bakugo by name and because Denki, your bestfriend's and roommate's boyfriend hangout occasionally with his group.

"I'll avoid him," you told your friends. "And everything's going to be fine"

You dried your tears and excused yourself, gathering your belongings to go and take a shower. You could still feel his scent in your skin.

Walking to the common woman bathroom, you tried to block the memories in your mind, and it worked until you opened the door.

"Hey," the pink girl greeted while putting on make-up in front of the mirror. "Oh my god, I know you, you are the girl from the party last night, right?"

Mina Ashido, one of Bakugo closest friend.

"Yeah," you tried to smile, but you failed. God wasn't on your side today.

"Are you okay?" She asked worried.

What could have given you away? Oh, your swollen and red eyes for sure.

"Yeah, I'm just hungover." You tried to laugh her worry away, and when Jirou asked about the encounter, you told her that you wanted to believe that it worked. But you never fooled anyone.

"Me too" she said giggling.

Thank god she didn't push it.

"I'm going to shower, so see you later...?" You said, and it sounded like a plan, but you just wanted to be nice with her.

"Oh, before you go, do you have any tampons? My period just came early this month. I think it's a reaction after drinking a huge amount last night"

Hormones, you knew about that.

Shit, period? Did he wear any condoms? I mean, you had your anti-babies method and all, but what about STD?

"Hello? Calling from earth, " Mina waved his hand in front of your face and you regained consciousness.

"Shit, yeah, sorry, here." You led her your last tampon from your bag.

"Thank you so much," Mina said, grabbing all her things into her purse. "I will see you around"

That encounter only made things worse. Albeit you wanted to avoid the bastard you needed to find him to have the most embarrassing talk of all.

You knew Bakugo's sexual life like the palm of your hand. The rumors on campus spread like the Black Death in medieval Europe. You prayed that your name wouldn't appear on those rumors.

It was easy finding him among his friends, the red-headed enormous cinnamon roll, the tall one with the tape quirk, and, of course, Mina.

You approached slowly and tensed. The first one on seeing you was Mina, who was happy to see you again after you gave her your last tampon. She waved his hand in your direction, and you smiled at her, trying to dissipate your nerves.

The time has come.

"Hey, uhm, I need to talk to you." You twisted your hands nervously after patting his shoulder to gain his attention. He turned around, and when caught that it was you in front of him, he just glared at you from above, the sun at his back making you squint your eyes a little. "In private," you said to complete your previous sentence.

He wasn't even giving you the time of the day before he was almost laughing at your face.

"Sorry, princess, I don't do rebounds." he solidly huffed at you with a side smile and all.

Mina was the first one to scold him while his friends just whined at his behavior.

That damn motherfucker son of a bitch bastard.

Your face passed from being the normal shade of your foundation and skin to a different shade of red. How could he be such a cunt about it?

But you had your mouth, too.

"Oh no, don't worry, I haven't seen a dick as small as yours, and you think I want to repeat that shit show? Oh, please. I just wanted to check if you have any STD I have to be aware of"

You lied about his dick at least. The only truth was that you didn't want to repeat the act.

The boys that were hanging out with him turned around to hide the giggling mess they were, while Bakugo only grunted in response, clenching his fist beside his stiff body.

"Why? Is there a problem down there? Is it itching or falling off?" He squinted his eyes at you, trying vehemently to put you down with his words. You denied moving your head like you didn't care at all about his attitude. "I don't have any STD. You should have seen it yourself when you were sucking me off"

Well, that was something a few people around heard. Scratch the "Don't be part of the rumor" from the list.

"Yeah, I should've had, but I forgot to bring my magnifying glass with me, that's completely on me, not your fault that you weren't blessed with something as big as your fucking ego"

The hushed screams of his friends were the beat you needed to turn around and leave him hanging. He had a piercing mouth, and you were almost trembling from the exchange of words, and yet, you didn't have the answer that you expected. Was he clean or not? Bakugo was a trustworthy man? Jeez, what a fucker.

Again, for the second time of the day you made your own walk of shame to your room.

"And, what did he say?" Jirou was waiting for you while she gathered all her belongings (and Denki's) to her side of the room.

"He said he doesn't have STD but I don't know if I should trust him...the scene was pretty intense." You sat in your bed, and she looked at you incredulously.

"Intense, how?" She quirked a brow, and you just shrugged before telling her everything.

"You did what!?" Denki stomped through the door. He was obviously listening behind the door like an old woman.

You hid your face in between your hands, internally screaming exhausted because of your poor decisions. Why did you leave the party with him of all people?

"He just nipped under my skin, and I had to defend myself, that's all," you tried to excuse yourself.

"You know that encounter is going to be the gossip of the week, right?" Jirou tapped your head gaining your attention. "You can't run of it"

"Jeez, I know"

All the situation was escalating from bad to worse real quick.

"Okay, fine, let's chill for a sec," Denki interrupted. "I'll find out about Kacchan medical records and I'll let you know, don't worry about it"

That's a good friend.

"Yeah, Denki can take care of that while you..."

"While I what?" You took your face off your hands.

"You know the rumor is going to spread before monday, right? You have to talk to Aizawa before he knows all of it in the worst way"

Shit. You had completely forgotten about the man who was kind enough to take you under his wing and be your guardian.

This was about to get good.

Let me know if you like it

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[nonbinaryphantom]

there is a sufficient evidence supporting that maddie and fenton are more often than not, good parents. like ive been going on a dp rewatch (although im skipping episodes im not too interested in) and even without the episodes focusing on relationships between their parents and kids (maternal instincts, one million dollar ghost, etc).

like theres little scenes like when jazz calls down the parents in my brother’s keeper maddie is very quick to go ‘is there something with danny? do you need to talk about something?’ theres jack going to bat for danny when he thought he was in danger in girls night out. they were overprotective about jazz in the episode 13. the entire episode reality trip for the reveal nerds. even like the episode with the strongest evidence that theyre neglectful (fright before christmas) maddie rushes out to get danny when the trees attack. hell even in the one episode where danny nearly got absolutely blasted/vivesevted by maddie in masters of all time he still got through to her that he’s her son even when he has the most flimsy evidence being a family photo. like she was remarkably easy to convince that danny was her alternate universe son she had with jack who she at the time believed wanted nothing to do with her. seriously if he can convince her that then I’m sure he can prove he’s half ghost to her with enough backing.

anyways the fentons are pretty good parents and i will die on this hill

#danny phantom #jack fenton #maddie fenton #and i will end my case with a new answer for their behavior: they have undiagnosed neurodivergent swag #like ofc theres smaller moments where its like hmmm see the doctors disorders where jack said jazz was his favorite #but theyre clearly meant to be laughs so #theyre just silly and goofy do u understand #again not perfect parents obviouslt like they are still trying to absolutely blast phantom (they dont know) #but if they DID they wouldnt be doing it. also like theyre not irredeemable they just dont have all the facts

[wntrs0ldier]

AN OFFER II · 04

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: mafia, language, violence, mature themes, dark themes, smut, punishing, spanking, edging, toxic behavior,

Bucky brought his hand up to your face. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he said. His hand slid a little lower; it gripped your jaw, and his fingers dug almost painfully into your cheeks. “But,” he licked his lips, shrugging, “you lied to me. And you won't get away with it.”

series masterlist

The situation you got yourself into was strikingly similar to your last date with John Walker — you were sitting in a fancy restaurant, trying not to show how much you needed some man's favor. There were also a few differences; seated in front of you was not John, but Adrian Lancy, it was not about a marriage proposal and your future, but the future of your gallery, and most importantly, Bucky had no idea about any of this. Although, he knew you were going out — he would have noticed your disappearance anyway — but you told him you were having dinner with Connie. You didn't think Bucky would want to make sure that was really the case, but you preferred to be safe than sorry, and asked your friend to lie if necessary. Connie didn't even think about it; she agreed before you finished your sentence.

Earlier, you didn't see Adrian as a threat — he didn't seem like someone who would go too far to get his way. Nevertheless, you were all smiles between the meals. Why? Because facing the fact that you had a husband, rather than just imagining it, caused some unexplained change in him, and from a sensible young man you were pinning your hopes on, he became someone gripped by a obsession; his propositions for meetings sounded a little more aggressive, lost their previous lightness, and you eventually grew afraid. Not about yourself — whenever the ring on your finger entered your field of vision, you forgot about any fear. It seemed to you that no one could hurt you, not when you bore the name of Barnes. 

But the gallery was different.

“I'm going to Paris soon,” Adrian began. “On business, of course, not for pleasure,” he added, as if you were to take him for a man who has nothing to do but travel. 

“Mhmm.”

“I thought you could come with me,” he continued. Surprised by the processes that must have occurred in his mind, you raised your eyebrows. “You know about art,” he hurried to clarify, “and I'd love to buy some pieces for my new apartment. I will pay you for this service.”

“You know that there are people you can actually hire for this. People you won't spend that much on.” You tilted your head to the side, watching him carefully. “Because I am expensive. Very expensive,” you said, hoping to discourage him. 

“I want you.”

“Adrian…” you sighed. “I can't come to Paris with you just like that.” 

Not hiding his disappointment, he pressed his lips tightly together. “Well,” he shrugged casually, “if you don't go with me, you won't see any more of my money. And I'll make sure that no one will ever invest in you again. In short, I will destroy you, Y/N. So you'd better think it over and give me an answer by the end of the week.”

Refusing to let any negative expression cast a shadow on your face, you watched him. You couldn't give him the satisfaction, even if, when agreeing to this meeting, you didn't expect it to turn out this way. The change you feared earlier had just taken a full turn — much faster than you thought. “Sure.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll think about it.”

A waiter appeared at the table. At first you thought it was just a routine check; that he was making sure you weren't missing anything. Only after you gave him a little more conscious attention did you notice a bottle of wine in his hands. A very expensive bottle. As if Adrian wanted to let you know that he had the resources you needed, and that he was spending his fortune on something as unnecessary as wine, which was only meant to impress.

But Adrian seemed confused, too. “There must be some mistake. I didn’t order any wine.” 

“I was told it is from Mr. Barnes.”You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling an unpleasant warmth spilling all over your stomach. You stared at the bottle in a stupor. So he knew — Bucky knew very well where you were, which meant he also knew who you were with.

You weren't sure how long you had been standing in front of the door to your apartment, but eventually realized that such behavior qualified as absurd — the accompanying fear, that you had been convinced you lacked only a few hours earlier, was undoubtedly irrational. Or at least that's what you had to trick yourself into thinking in order to finally grab the door handle. 

You hung up your purse on a hanger and slipped the high heels off your feet. You were able to name at least five much scarier situations that had occurred in your entire life, yet you couldn't recall the last time you felt this kind of anxiety. You didn't even understand where it was coming from; after all, Bucky cared about you; he couldn't harm you. 

When you turned around, ready to go deeper into the apartment, Bucky was standing at the end of the hall, right by the exit. His damp hair, loose t-shirt and sweatpants, fresh wounds on his knuckles indicated that he must have been after training with Steve. You swallowed hard at the thought that Bucky, having found out where and with whom you were actually spending time, needed to beat something, in this case, fortunately, a punching bag.

“Was it good?” Bucky asked, approaching you slowly. “The wine,” he clarified. Without taking your eyes off him, you nodded cautiously, causing him to squint. “What is it?” His mouth curved into a playful smirk. “You’re not scared, are you?” 

“I can’t really tell…”

Bucky brought his hand up to your face. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he said. His hand slid a little lower; it gripped your jaw, and his fingers dug almost painfully into your cheeks. “But,” he licked his lips, shrugging, “you lied to me. And you won't get away with it.”

You gawked at him — at the stern expression on his face, at his darkened eyes and reddened, slightly parted mouth. Whatever he intended, you could feel yourself getting wet.

He grabbed your wrist; it ached from the power of the pressure Bucky wielded, but the feeling only intensified the sensation. He dragged you behind him, and you almost tripped over your own feet — he wasn't walking that fast; it was your limbs that seemed frail and numb. 

“Bed,” Bucky commanded as soon as you reached the bedroom. Massaging your sore wrist by instinct, you went in that direction, your steps wobbly. You settled on the middle of the mattress. Bucky came closer. “Turn around.” 

Captivated by his massive, heavy frame, under which you hoped you were about to end up, fascinated by the calmness and dominance he radiated, you couldn’t stop looking at him. 

“Turn around,” he said again, much slower than before. “I’m not gonna ask you again.” 

Your mouth went dry. Finally obeying his order — not in fear of the consequences, but looking forward to further development of the situation — you turned around. Bucky placed his hand between your shoulder blades and with pressure forced you to lean forward; so you landed on your knees, additionally supporting your hands on the mattress. 

He lifted your dress above your hips, a quiet snort escaped his mouth. “You fucking kidding me?” Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head, hooking his fingers under the hems of the lace pants you were wearing. He pulled the material lower, completely exposing your ass, sending a wave of heat over your entire body. 

You got up one knee first, then the other, making it easier for Bucky to strip you of your underwear. Then, he grabbed a piece of your dress and pulled you to him; as your hands detached from the mattress, he reached for them and tied tightly with your pants. The fabric, digging into your wrists, turned out to give you a surprising amount of pleasure.

Bucky pushed you forward again, this time far harder. Deprived of the possibility to support yourself, the front of your body fell on the bed, while your ass still remained up. All you could do was turn your head to the side — other than that, you were completely helpless, dependent on his mercy.

It seemed, however, that he didn't have any for you. You realized this when you felt a sharp, piercing pain, accompanied by a loud clap — Bucky’s hand landed on your ass cheek, and it landed hard. Shocked by this new and unfamiliar sensation, you shouted, your eyes filled with tears. 

Bucky spanked you again. Your body trembled, and only a muffled gasp came out of your mouth this time. 

Another slap — you felt your skin burning and stinging in that spot, getting more and more tender; you were painfully aware of this as his hand, once again, smacked your ass rapidly. You moaned, your back arching, your pussy almost dripping, asking to be filled. But that sweet torture was nearly as good. 

“More?” he rasped, breathing heavily. You weren't sure how to respond; he was punishing you, so if you asked for more, would he actually give you what you wanted? And if you refused, would he stop? 

“Y/N,” Bucky pressed. 

“More,” you replied quickly, your voice weak. 

“More what?”

At that moment, your mind wasn't in the best place for the logical, coherent sentences he always expected from you. “I want you to spank me more. Please,” you exhaled.

“You don’t wanna talk, so I’ll make you use your words. Make that pretty mouth of yours work.” 

Bucky fulfilled your request, and you almost jumped up on the mattress, clamped your eyelids shut and let out a loud whine — that one was definitely stronger than the others, causing goosebumps all over your heated body. 

The bed sunk behind you, signaling his arrival. The t-shirt he had thrown off landed silently somewhere on the floor. Your lips parted, releasing a long moan as the tip of his cock brushed hard against your wet, throbbing cunt. He buried into your core painfully slowly and lazily; you felt his hardness spreading inside you, filling all the space you could give him. 

Bucky clenched his hands on your hips and began to thrust into you. The pain radiating from your cheeks mixed with the surging pleasure, creating a combination you could quickly become addicted to. Gasping loudly, he pounded into you again and again; immediately he reached to your head, slipped his fingers into your hair and tightened them there. He turned your head to the side so he could see at least part of your face — the changes taking place on it. He wanted to control your pleasure. Because as you, stimulated by spanking and waiting, began to get closer to an orgasm faster than you could expect, Bucky suddenly stopped. He slid out, leaving behind only emptiness and a devastating lack of satisfaction.

“Jamie, please-” you choked out. 

“Don’t Jamie me,” Bucky replied sternly. He leaned forward, putting the weight of his body on yours. He pulled your head slightly away from the mattress, his mouth hanging right next to your ear. “You lied to me today, Y/N.”

You nodded immediately, ready to agree to everything he wanted. 

“You know that what you did was wrong? Hmm?”

“Yes. Yes, I know. And I'm sorry.”

“I don't want your sorry. I want you to never lie to me again. You are my wife and I won't have it, do you understand?” he said, the words seeping out through his teeth. 

“I understand, but please-”

Bucky clenched his fingers harder in your hair. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“You promise what, Y/N?” he inquired impatiently, although at that moment it seemed like he had all the time in the world.

Taking another deep breath, you gathered the strength and all the concentration you had in you to say those few words he cared so much about. “I-I promise to never lie to you again.”

Bucky moved slightly away, left a kiss on the nape of your neck, then straightened up. He entered you again, and again you felt that blissful fullness. At first you got the impression that he was still fucking some discipline into you, but the rising sensations made you think that he was actually rewarding you for understanding your mistake and promising to do better.

In that position — with your hips up — his dick quickly found the right spot and hit exactly where it needed to. Wet, well lubricated with all your juices, it was sliding in and out smoothly, bringing you more rapture than you could beg for. With loud, desperate cries, you were praying to your god, taking his name in vain — the one who was just fucking you senseless. Because Bucky couldn’t be just a human; he was too perfect, too beautiful, too merciful as he forgave your sins. 

You clenched around his cock, your eyes rolled back as consciousness left your mind. Apart from the overwhelming release, you also felt Bucky's load spilling into you; he, too — with a few last thrusts — let out a few whimpers, crowned by a throaty growl, and his body slumped against yours. His chest, pressed to your back, rose and fell as he tried to normalize his breathing. He pulled away from you to free your wrists as quickly as possible; your hands dropped lifelessly, too weak and too useless.

“Let’s clean you up, hmm?” Bucky suggested; surprisingly gently for the man he was just a moment ago. 

“I want to stay here,” you muttered with half of your face still in the bed sheets. Once again you felt his body pressing against yours as laid a tender kiss behind your ear.

You woke up to an empty bed. 

Your sore body covered with a blanket, the curtains closed. The watch on the nightstand said four in the morning. 

The urgent need to use the toilet dissuaded you from further sleep. You didn't feel fully awake until you were in the shower — as the warm water washed over your body, you wondered where Bucky had gone at such an early hour. You hoped that three months of hard work in Italy would give him some more space here in New York.

You got out of the shower, removed the remnants of your makeup, brushed your teeth, then returned to the bedroom. Curiosity was stronger than tiredness, besides, you felt rested enough, maybe even too awake for any more sleep. You put on one of Bucky's t-shirts, rummaged from his side of the closet, and left the room. You didn't have to search for long — the warm glow pouring out of the living room immediately caught your attention.

Bucky was sitting on the couch — under the light of the lamp standing over him, he was looking through some papers scattered on the coffee table. Full concentration on his face, marked by a deep wrinkle between his brows.

“What are you doing?” you spoke. 

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Checking the account statements from Sapphire Dune and Marble Aurora.” Rubbing his eye, Bucky sighed with clear tiredness. 

Your forehead creased as the names of your father’s casinos rang in your ears. You haven't thought about them once lately, so you wouldn't expect it from Bucky either. On the other hand, your Family's affairs were now his concern. 

With your arms folded across your chest, you walked closer to the couch and peeked at the documents. “Something wrong with them..?”

“No,” he assured, smiling softly. “They’re doing really… decently.” 

“So maybe I should stick to them…” you murmured. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows, watching you with a surprise. He reached out his hand to you in an inviting gesture. You took it and sat down right next to him; so close that your thighs touched. He didn’t say a word, waiting for you to tell him everything that was bothering you.

“I lied to you earlier too,” you confessed. “I lied that I don’t need money. And it’s not like I have to close the gallery in a week or something, but…” You gasped. “Some funding is always useful. And Adrian seemed like the perfect sponsor until-” you hesitated, shrugging. “But now he is acting weirder than ever and-”

“Did he do something to you?” Bucky asked right away, interrupting you.

“No, he didn’t,” you protested. “A couple hours ago, he offered me a trip to Paris,” you began, and Bucky’s forehead furrowed at those words. “He said no one will ever invest in the gallery again if I turn him down. And I can't afford it, I can't ask for your money, because I want to make money, not take it out of the house-”

“Y/N, you make money,” Bucky claimed, demonstratively lifting one of the papers. “It's all here,” he added, his brows drew together. “Besides, is using my — our — money really worse than selling your time to this fucking creep?” 

Feeling more and more resigned, you let out a heavy breath. “Bucky…”

“You don't like him, you don't feel comfortable around him, the business isn't going as you would like it to. Or am I wrong?” He was looking at you expectantly, although he didn't actually need any confirmation — he saw the answer written all over your face. He touched your cheeks, his fingers spread on your skin, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. “You are my wife, and it is my job to take care of you. You have to let me do exactly that, Y/N.” 

Staring relentlessly into his eyes, filled with sincerity and concern, you took his hand off your face and placed a tender kiss inside it, brushing your lips over the scar there; the scar bonding you forever. “Okay,” you whispered. 

You pulled your legs up onto the couch and snuggled into his side. Bucky put his arm around you and rested his cheek on the top of your head. 

A silence settled in, filled only with your peaceful breathing — it didn't bother you or Bucky, since neither of you felt the need to break it. You thought it would be much more difficult; that you would need far more time to get used to him, especially after his last absence. But having a huge couch with plenty of space to occupy, you decided to deprive yourself of whatever space there was.

“Are you going to elaborate, in any way, on what you did to me earlier..?”

“Elaborate…” Bucky repeated. He exhaled, blowing some of the air out of his lungs, then rested his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I've wanted to do it since that night when I saw you in that little nightgown of yours.” He raised his brow. “And that's about it.” 

You sat up straight, your eyes on Bucky’s face. “That night?” you asked in disbelief. “As a punishment for what?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Did it really feel like a punishment to you?” 

Even if you were able to answer him without hesitation, you looked away to think about it. Or pretend to think about it. You bit your lip.

“Did it feel good..?” Bucky inquired, his tone gentle and careful. 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Very good,” you said, not sure if you should really admit it. “We can do it more often,” you suggested, and Bucky’s eyebrows rose instantly. Taken slightly aback, he peered at you with sudden liveliness, his eyes sparked with fascination that struck him like a speeding train. “What?” you laughed softly, but then understood something — you always sensed a gentle restraint in him, keeping him in check; the chains holding him down. Now, you were able to hear them break. Was it you who destroyed them? Your innocent permission?

Bucky smirked, shaking his head, letting you know he wasn’t going to be too harsh on you. But as harsh as you’d allow him to be. 

He leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees, and reached for one of the papers so he could return to analyzing the documents. You clung to his back, placing your chin on his shoulder blade. He immediately located his free hand on your arm, wrapped around his torso. 

“Go back to bed,” he said, his eyes still focused on the statements. 

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No, of course not,” Bucky assured right away, “but aren’t you tired, sunshine?” He turned his head as far as he could to glance at you at least from the corner of his eye. Taking the opportunity, you stretched out further, to reach his face, and planted a few quick but tender pecks on his cheek, making him laugh softly.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter @theroyalmanatee @midnightvitality @thebuckybarnesvault @milanaasblog @itsmytimetoodream @talesofadragon @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @bbiaa420 @funkybarnes @sebastians-love @walkingwithoutreason @hereticdance @abitofblues @purple-vegan @queenashen @oqueano @yourdryadwife @lethallyprotected @abbyyourlocalmilf @sapphirebarnes @matchat3a

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[adkawariatka]

So it’s a follow up of my previous post. it’s Tim perspective on how Damian changed and his reactions to them.

Tim wos tired but that’s nothing new. He should have slept at least two hours at night, but what’s done is done. He sits at the kitchen table sipping his third espresso and watching his siblings. When Bruce enters he looks at those present and seems to count. Ha that might be needed Tim thinks. After third attempt of his murder by demon brat that’s expected. Speaking of demons… Tim hasn’t seen Damian outside patrol for quite long. Not that he is complaining not having constant threat to your life around is nice but demon still should be at manor. Maybe Tim missed something when he wos looking into his case for last two weeks…

-Does someone saw Damian in manor lately?

When no one answers the question Tim sits straighter. That’s bad news really bad news.

-he wos at patrol tonight but outside from that no.

Dick answers. Well it’s Sunday at 10:00 in the morning. It’s not impossible for Damian to go out but where? It’s not as he has any friends. Tim snorts to his thoughts. He imagined demon brat talking to other kids „incompetent idiots that’s not how you hold katana!!!”. So no he doubts that possibility. He can see Bruce’s jaw tighten in worry. Ok so they need to find the brat. Before they can get serious about any action they hear front doors open and Alfred greetings

-Good morning Master Damian

And the demon enters kitchen as if nothing wos wrong. As if going out of manor as 10 year old alone wos acceptable. He greets father then Dick and to his suprise him also. And tries to go to the living room but Bruce stops him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

- where were you?

Tim winces it sounds more as a growl than a perfectly civilized question. Bruce parenting skills are shit as always. He knows that it’s out of worry but still….

-I wos on a walk

Damian is perfectly calm. That’s good. Tim is too tired for furious demon right now.

- who give you permission to go out without supervision?

And Damian watches him carefully. Tim can see him taking slow deep breaths. Huh, weird.

-you told me to make friends so I am working on it.

Tim almost spits his coffee. Working on making friends!? He hopes that any children that Damian chased with his katana are unharmed.

- you shouldn’t go out without anyone knowing where you are going. You need permission

-I am not a kid I can take care of myself!

There is the demon that Tim knows.

-it’s not a matter of being a kid or not. I need to know where you are as your guardian I am responsible for your safety

-tyt it’s pretty clear that I can protect myself

-but in this family you don’t need to. We have different rules.

And Tim saw something that he never saw before. Damian hestitated. Took a deep breath and asked like a civilized human being without anger or insults

- then if I inform you where I am going and when I will be back I can go?

Tim can’t believe it. Demon brat is… talking. With words like normal human being. Tim checks his coffee. He really needs to sleep more. Halucinations are bad sign.

-

But sleeping didn’t change the fact that Damian acted weird. After school and patrols he disappeared for „walks”. Tim knew something wos going on. But Bruce let it go. Damian started to inform him where he went and for how long and it actually checked. Dick even checked his location and everything lined up. But that wosnt the end of strange behaviors from Damian. The demon brat often glanced at Tim when they were in the same room. Not stared but glanced trying to be subtle. Well like for assassin training he wosnt so stealthy as he probably thought. Tim expected another attack soon. He started to carry battarangs with him around the house. when he started doing that and Damian caught on he did even weirder shit.

Imagine one evening when they were all in the living room and Damian enters. Of course with his katana that he keeps with himself at all times in the manor becouse Bruce forbidden him outside of hause and procedes to lock eyes with Tim and leaves his weapon near the door. Tim is staring at Damian as if he grew second head and he isn’t the only one.

From that time whenever Damian is in the same room as Tim he leaves his katana close to the door. Tim smells a trap. Whatever the brat is doing it can’t be good. Even if that gesture is kind of reassuring…. Tim is no fool. He will not be swayed by nice words or acknowledgment of his work or even leaving weapons outside of range of Damian’s hand.

One day after patrol, when Tim started to get ready for going to his room. To work of course, becouse the sharp eyes of Alfred didn’t leave him for a moment and distracted him from his case. He realised he is not alone. Damian followed him like shadow. Tim didn’t speed up his walking to not let the demon realize that he knew about his presence. Slowly he closed fingers around his batarang to make sure he will par first blow of katana. They were before Tim’s room when Damian started to speak

- Drake can we talk?

That sounded off. Damian didn’t talk he stabbed. More often Tim than anything else. But he sounded hestitant…. Well he has a weapon and when they enter his room they will be on his ground. He will know environment and hidden weapons there. He will have huge adventage when the fight will barek out.

-Sure why not

Tim let’s them in. He allows Damian to enter first. That way he has his back to Tim it’s safer that way. When the door closes Damian turns around Tim grips batarang in his pocked and waits for the start…. And nothing. Damian stands in the middle of his room locks his eyes with Tim’s and glances at his hand in his pocked. In the well lighted room it’s no mistakening that shape for anything different than a weapon. And then his guest procedes to holds his hands up palms to Tim in universal sign of no violence. Tim is dumbfounded. Damian clears his throat and starts:

- Drake I have been doing some reaserch… and it turned out I wos…. Misinformed. My past actions towards you were caused by my lack of knowledge and I shouldn’t have attacked you. I will not repeat that mistake again. I mean no harm to you…. Anymore

- What? Misinformed?! You stabbed me! Multiple times!

- I am aware Drake And I…

- no if you think that I will buy this story then You are delusional and

- I am sorry Timothy!

Damian cut him off. And Tim shut his mouth and looked at Damian. Really looked. He wos fidgeting and he actually flinched when he raised his voice. He stared at the floor and squized his hand so hard that it must have hurt. Tim stared in shock.

- Holy shit you are serious

Damian raised his gaze at Tim. And nodded. For once he looked as 10 year old boy. God Tim wos a dumbass. Damian WOS 10 years old. And lately he tried to be non-threatening towards Tim. Every weird action linked into a pretty clear picture. it looks like Damian finally realized his actions were wrong and came to Tim…. And Tim shouted at him.

- I ok let’s make things clear you realized you were wrong after what 8 months of leaving under one roof together? And…

Damian started to shrink in on himself and Tim stopped himself shit he wos doing it wrong. He crouched to be at Damian’s eye level and started again.

- No sorry first things first thank you for telling me. I appreciate the gesture. And lack of weapons for last month… It’s good to know you won’t try to kill me anymore. I don’t think I can just forget of what you did but… we can try to work it out. What do you say?

-that sounds reasonable Timothy.

Wow its so weird to agree with the brat… no Damian. Wait did he call him by his name!? While Tim wos trying to organize his thoughts Damian murmured something that caught his attention, that probably wosnt for Tim to hear.

-he wos right…

- It wos draining patrol I won’t take more of your time Drake. Good night

-who wos right?

Tim wosnt going to let that go. Someone talked Damian into doing this and he needs to know who. Dick wos unsuccessful in teaching Damian in basic human interactions. So must be someone outside. Bruce is too much emotionally conspirated, maybe Alfred. If yes then there is no reason to worry. But someone from outside could have hidden goals. It wos dangerous. Damian seemed suprised by his question but did not hestitate.

- My friend

And wosnt that a mistery. Tim needed to check that „friend” no matter what. He could be using Damian or plotting to hurt Wayne’s. But he wosnt going to let his suspicion break just created string of trust with his younger brother. He will check that stranger on his own in a way that Damian won’t realize. For know that wos enough. Damian wos opening the doors to go to his room when Tim added

- what happend to Timothy?

Damian slammed the door in his face. And Tim burst out laughing. He wos not going to let that go.

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #league of assassins #siblings #family bonding #trust #trust issues #danny phantom #danny fenton

[ozzgin]

So @moonthundersoldier requested a Predator x Reader headcanon and I have to say, I took my time with it as an excuse to watch Prey and whip out my dusty old comics. I‘m a big fan of Alien and Predator and this was my chance to finally try my hand at it! Hopefully it turns out alright.

Various Predators x Predator! Reader Headcanons

Featuring various Yautja types that independently find and court a mysterious reader raised by humans.

Part 1: Meeting

Part 2: Courting

Part 3: Mating

Backstory

The earliest memory you have of your parents consists only of their wide backs as they hastily controlled the ship, looking for a new hunting ground. You were born to a pair of bad bloods that have been exiled by their clan. They were loudly typing in the parameters for the landing, which so far wasn’t looking gracious. Just as the ship brushed against Earth‘s atmosphere, a foreign vessel appeared behind. Judging by the angry growls of your parents, it wasn’t a good thing.

You of course don’t recall any of it, but what followed was a swift battle once the landing jets touched the ground. The second ship opened up without delay and several Predators in stark white armor marched their way out. They were enforcers, dispatched to hunt down criminals such as your parents. As they finished their gruesome task, they noticed the remaining heat radiating from the cockpit. Had they missed a member? Then again, the overall shape was too small for a regular man. One of the officers climbed into the collapsed remains of the ship and spotted you. Troublesome. He nonchalantly grabbed your carrier and walked out, showing the cause of mild concern to the others. The important things such as weapons were to be returned to Yautja Prime, anything else destroyed. So, what were they supposed to do with you?

The answer was found rather quickly, as their helmets notified them of approaching life forms. Most likely wild animals, in which case you would also be taken care of. The suckling of fugitives could hardly integrate back in the clan. This was for the best. So they quickly discarded the remaining wreckage and boarded their vessel once again.

“Oh God, what is that?” a tall man shouts as he approaches your abandoned carrier, holding tight onto the shotgun. “Some sort of creature…Be careful!”

The plump woman with a sunburned face that had followed behind was now just a few inches from you, bending over with genuine curiosity. “Are you serious right now? Put that shotgun down, it’s a baby!” Seemingly unperturbed by your unusual appearance, she picked you up and briefly analyzed your features before lifting your carrier and turning around. “Let’s go, I’m not leaving a child behind. We’ll figure it out.”

Reader’s countryside life

And so you were raised by honest, loving and - most importantly - human farmers. Since you’ve been equipped with proper, superior intelligence, it has been easy for you to acquire the human language. The clicks and growls were slowly replaced with fully articulated words. Save for your reptilian appearance, you are otherwise an authentic member of the family.

You might have the docile, caring behavior of a human, but your predator instincts have not been discarded. You’re taller and stronger than your “relatives”, and the more dangerous labor of guarding or hunting has been in your hands for many years now. The old shotgun now serves as a dusty wall decoration, it could never compete with your claws, speed and ferocity. Your heart remains that of a hunter.

Eventually it becomes a vague gossip within the cities of Yautja Prime that one of their own might be roaming Earth, completely unaware of their roots. A Predator woman, trained by humans. What would the outcome be? Curiosity peaks for certain Predators and they can’t help but wish to see you with their own eyes. Maybe the different backgrounds would provide future younglings with unknown exotic advantages.

Your peaceful life comes to an end when the first of many suitors descends onto the bizarre planet and manages to track you down. The first encounter leaves you speechless: are there more individuals like you out there? You feel relief flushing over you as the knowledge of similar creatures settles in. You weren’t alone, after all. And soon enough you even learn to describe what you’ve always questioned about yourself. You’re a Yautja, a Predator.

Predators meeting the reader

You’ve really caught the feral Predator’s eyes. He has parted ways with modern technology a long time ago and prefers to hunt with minimal tools. He finds your way of surviving very similar to his tribal lifestyle, relying more on strength and agility that have been polished in raw nature. He’s the one that teaches you the native language and tells you about the Homeworld, though he suspects you come from a different hemisphere. He likes to observe the tactics you’ve developed to hunt the animals of this world and shares his own experience and tips with you. He has grown fond of the wilderness on this planet and plans to propose that the two of you build a family away from the needless hassle of cities. If there’s such a thing as a soul mate, then Black Warrior has entrusted him to be yours.

The visit you receive from an elite Predator is not as cozy. He watches you from afar and notices your interactions with the humans. His guide marks them as targets, so why are you acting all chummy with boring prey? They don’t seem to have combat skills and yet you bring them game and offer protection. He refuses to believe that you’ve been in some way enslaved, bringing shame to your kind. He decides to confront you and demand answers. Having learned the language, you explain that this is your clan, the family that raised you. You’re a bit annoyed that this complete stranger is bringing in his hierarchies and social constructs as some sort of universal law. You do not care for his philosophy of power and warn him to be respectful of the customs here. Aha, there it is. Your imposing figure and assertive threats confirm to him you’re a proper Yautja despite the circumstances. His initial frown is replaced by a satisfied expression. Don’t worry, your potential won’t go to waste in this dump of weaklings. He’ll take you home with him and show you the true meaning of a Predator family. Even if he has to fight you a little for it.

This fugitive bad blood has finally found you. He’d known your parents for a long time and heard about their demise, but he never expected they’d leave an offspring behind. He scans your figure with a certain impertinence, pleased by what he sees. Should he kill the humans and capture you as his mate? It’s certainly the most entertaining option. He smugly shows you his trophy belt, bearing the skulls of defeated prey, and asks you if your little creatures deserve a spot. You assume a fighting stance and erratic clicking sounds erupt from his chest, most likely a laugh. You have no tools and you’ve only ever fought…what…little Earth piglets half the size of a Predator Hound? But it’s alright, he wants a feisty mother for his children. Give your best shot.

By far the most challenging admirer has been the Berserker. You can see the similarity between the two of you, but the blood red eyes are unlike all the other Predators you’ve encountered before. Merely seconds after discovering your presence, the creature attempted to dominate you and you had to trash your way out of its grasp. You try to assess the situation but have little time to contemplate before the next attack occurs. He’s heavier and larger than you or the other Predators and as much as you hate to admit, taking him down could prove difficult. What does he want? He thankfully hasn’t redirected his aim towards your family, and if he so desired he may have killed you by now. He retracts his claws and turns to face you once again. He’s mocking you, not even keeping his guard up. But there’s something else in his eyes, a primal urge that sends cold shivers down your spine. He’s going to make you his.

#predator #predator x reader #yautja #prey #monster x reader

[windvexer]

On Witchcraft as a spirituality

Sometimes people hit me up like "I need verification, but practicing spells is so tedious, and I need validation" and I am here to tell you that

In my personal opinion you know that

You're never going to finish crochet projects unless you love making stitches.

Letting the yarn slip over your fingers and the hook goes over under over under, stitch stitch stitch, turning chain,

That is the part you've got to love, I think, because the problem is if you only love the amigurumi, or the bag, or the blanket, you're never going to get there,

because crocheting isn't having a blanket.

Crocheting is making a blanket.

"I just need to see my spells manifesting before I can have proof, I need that validation" is bullshit

because you can cast a spell that goes off so incredibly well and then you look around and all you can say is "well that just means the situation was already going to go fine and I never needed to cast, there's no way I could have accomplished that"

and all the while there's this little bit of hollowness and stress and frustration, like you're looking for the thing but the thing never presents itself,

so now the question is still there and it just switches from "I need validation," to "I need faith"

and this is exactly like finishing the amigurumi and looking at its soft squishy face and setting it aside and saying "I need a bag"

but in all the cases, you know, the answer is just about stitches.

Do you need a bag? Or do you need the quiet, repetitive, counting, soothing, structure, activity, progress, and then, by total coincidence, after a while a bag appears?

I think this way often about witchcraft as a spirituality. My blog is mostly practical sorcery based. And when you approach witchcraft from that perspective I think it's pretty much, "I need a result."

But witchcraft isn't having a result.

Witchcraft is making a result.

and I think for those of us who use witchcraft as a spirituality, as a damp and safe terracotta pot within which we can unfurl our roots into the rich soil of the underworld,

It is the joy of the process itself which waters the soils - not the end result.

When you engage in your practice - the literal, physical, mental, and emotional actions you engage in, the ways you've ritualized your behaviors, the series of behaviors you engage in which allow you to interface with your path -

Do those parts, in and of themselves, serve you?

So anyway love your results but fuck results at the same time, if the actual moment-to-moment doesn't serve you, if being there doing the actions in and of itself doesn't bring you something,

perhaps there are adjustments to be done.

It could even be time to switch to a new fiber art altogether.

#witchcraft #witchblr #tbl

[neonghostlights]

I saw you got your first request! That’s so sweet and lovely I love your writing :)

I was wondering if maybe I could request something pretty please? Angstyyyy and fluff

what if eddie has substance abuse problems like rockstar!eddie or Eddie needed something to cope with the events of s4 but it’s wrecking him and your relationship and you love him and have tried to help him but is basically like it’s me or the drugs

My second request ever! Thank you so much (: I went with Eddie coping after the events of season four and tried to leave it open to him using either drugs or alcohol. I've watched someone struggle with addiction before so I based it a little off of that.

Warnings: Substance Abuse, Addiction, Rehab, Established Relationship, Intervention, Angst, Fighting, Sad Uncle Wayne, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.2k

Pick And Choose

It started with him being late to everything and then he stopped showing up completely. Phone calls became few and far between. He didn’t even play DnD anymore. Then it was the fighting, the lying, and the stealing. 

It all came to a head last weekend when you drove around town looking for Eddie, who had fought with Wayne over his behavior and disappeared without a trace. Steve eventually found him passed out in someone's basement at a party with no memory of how he got there. The fight that took place between the two of you the next morning was the worst you had ever gotten into. 

You hadn’t talked to him since then. A week of complete silence on your part. Eddie had called you a few times and left you some unintelligible voicemails that you didn’t respond to. 

You had watched Eddie slowly wither into himself. At first, you didn’t allow yourself to believe what you were seeing. The happy and healthy man you knew was decaying right in front of you. 

The last six months had been hard on Eddie. From watching Chrissy die, to almost dying in the upside down and then waking up to a town that wanted to lock him away forever. 

The charges were dropped and the physical wounds healed but Eddie still wasn’t okay. You knew it, Wayne knew it and your friends knew it too.

You made excuses for Eddie whenever Dustin, Mike or Lucas wanted to see him and he wasn’t answering the phone. But they were starting to pick up that something was wrong. They were smart kids and you couldn’t lie to them forever. 

Wayne opened the trailer door for you when you knocked, letting you in silently. He nodded his head towards Eddie’s room, the new one since the old trailer had been destroyed. 

“Has he been up at all today?” You asked quietly, not wanting to risk Eddie knowing you were there yet. 

Wayne shook his head with a pained look on his face. 

You let out a deep sigh, setting your things on the counter. 

“Maybe we should call that Harrington boy up here too. Just in case he tries to fight,” Wayne suggested. 

You thought for a second. Steve was able to be some of a voice of reason when Eddie went too far but there had also been times when Steve sported a black eye after Eddie lashed out. Steve had already been hit far too many times over the years and had such extreme headaches that you didn't want to risk it. 

“I-I think we should just do it. Just us. I don’t want him to feel cornered,” you finally said. “If it goes too far we’ll back off and try again another day.” The thought of having another day with Eddie was wishful. You woke up everyday terrified that you would get a phone call informing you of the inevitable. He could only go on this way for so long. 

You grabbed the pamphlets out of your bag and handed one to Wayne. He stared down at it, not opening or reading it, just observing. 

A loud bump and crash could be heard coming from Eddie’s room. You looked at Wayne who was still staring at the pamphlet. It was show time. 

You sat down on the couch alone. “Wayne?” You asked, breaking him out of his trance. 

The man slowly sank down in the recliner across from you. 

Eddie’s bedroom door crashed open, hitting the wall and surely adding to the dent that was already there. You watched as he stumbled into the kitchen, sweatpants and t-shirt baggy on his thinning form. When he noticed you on the couch he paused suddenly, swaying slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” He croaked, eyes squinted like he couldn’t see you. 

“I’m here to talk,” you said, keeping your voice light. 

“Come sit down with us, Eddie,” Wayne spoke up, craning his neck to turn and look at his nephew. You could see the slight wince when he took in Eddie’s shape. 

“Okay?” Eddie said, dropping down on the couch beside you. 

Up close you could see just how bad he had gotten in a week. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed red. His hair hung in lifeless strands surrounding his face. His cheeks were hollow and pale. You just wanted to wrap him up in your arms and heal him with everything you had. But you weren’t a superhero. You didn’t have the powers to fix this. 

Eddie looked away when he noticed the look on your face. 

“What’s up?” He asked, like this was some sort of friendly neighborhood chit chat. At least he was in a good mood for now. 

You took a shaky breath. “I love you, Eddie.”

His eyes softened slightly at this. “ If this is about our fight I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” he said, gesturing towards his uncle who sat with a stoic look on his face. 

“We need to talk about it though. I’m worried about you,” you said. 

Eddie let out a humorless chuckle. He leaned his head up against the back of the couch. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everyone is fine,” he muttered. 

“No. Everyone is not fine. I think you should go get some help,” you informed him in a soft voice. 

Eddie’s head snapped up to look at you. “If you’re here because you think you can tell me what to do then you can just leave. I don’t want you here anyways.” His mood changed in a heartbeat when he was like this. The second he felt like he was being criticized he snapped. 

You swallowed, trying to fight the harsh sting of his words. You had to remind yourself it wasn’t him talking. He didn’t mean it. 

Eddie used to be so full of life. He never would have spoken to you like that before this. Sometimes you wished you could crawl into a time machine just so you can have old Eddie comfort you the way you needed. You’d give anything to hear him tell you everything would be okay again. 

You pulled the pamphlet out from under your leg and handed it to him with a shaking hand. “Um, I got you a bed here. They’re ready to take you tonight if you’ll go.”

Eddie snatched the papers out of your hand and ripped them in half without even looking at them. He stood up now, his form trembling with the effort. You wanted to ask him when the last time he ate or drank anything was but now wasn’t the time. 

He pointed a finger into your face. “You think you can just show up here after abandoning me for a week and tell me what to do. You just think you are so goddamn perfect all the time. Everything would be fine if you would just shut up and let me do what I want to do.”

You clenched your hands into tight fists, fighting the anger and hurt. The counselor at the facility had told you this might happen. It was very important not to engage in this behavior. 

“Eddie,” you said softly, a stark contrast to the tone he had used to speak to you. “We can’t keep doing this. You have to choose either me or the way you’re living. You can’t have both. I can’t sit here and watch you die.” You started to cry then at the thought of this killing him. You turned your head, quickly wiping the tears off of your cheeks. 

You could hear Eddie take a trembling breath. “If that’s what you want then go. Get the hell out,” he demanded. 

You looked up to him to see his eyes wide, nostrils flared and hands balled up at his side. You weren’t going to get through to him. You weren’t going to be able to save Eddie like you thought. 

You stood slowly, giving him the chance to change his mind. He just stood there, staring at you as you went to walk out of his life for good. 

A few sniffles had you pausing your journey to the front door. You turned to see Wayne with his head in his hand and his shoulders shaking violently. You had been so caught up in talking to Eddie that you had forgotten that he was even there. 

Eddie’s expression crumbled as he watched his uncle sob.  

“Wayne,” he stammered, placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I can’t do it anymore, Eddie. I can’t sit here and watch you end up just like your father.”

Eddie winced like he had been struck. “But I’m not like him.”

Wayne looked up at him with red swollen eyes. “You are though. This is exactly like he was. I can't sit here any longer and watch history repeat itself. And watching the way you just spoke to someone you’re supposed to love. That’s exactly how your father spoke to your mother.”

You watched silently, waiting for Eddie to snap back at his uncle or lash out but he never did. He collapsed onto the couch, folding into himself as he wrapped his arms around his waist. He slowly started to rock his body back and forth. 

“No,” he denied, looking at you now. “You know I didn’t mean it right. You know I love you. I just don’t feel good.”

Eddie was crying now too. His uncle's words making some sort of breakthrough. It was now or never. 

“Then go get help, Eddie.” You approached him slowly, sitting down beside him carefully. “It’s already all set up for you. You just have to go.”

“And how are we going to afford that? I can just get clean here,” he argued. 

You shook your head. “No. Don’t worry about the money it’s already taken care of.”

He would blow a fuse if he found out Steve had given you a significant loan to fund Eddie’s treatment. Steve insisted you wouldn’t have to pay him back but you were going to work the rest of your life to make sure he got every penny. 

Eddie chewed on his already chapped lips before he took another look at his uncle's tear streaked face and started to nod. 

Ninety days came and went in a blur. 

Eddie’s room had been cleaned out prior to his arrival home. Anything that wasn’t good for him was tossed out. 

You leaned against the side of Wayne’s truck while he went inside to collect Eddie. The warm breeze swept through, warming your skin. It was a beautiful day for Eddie to be free again. 

You and Eddie didn’t speak for the first thirty days of his treatment. He was in worse shape than you thought when he first got there. There had been a few times when he almost left. Around day thirty five he called you to let you know that he was okay and that he would be sending you a letter he wrote. 

It was a letter of apologies for everything he had done and said since he started using. With promises to get better. He told you that he loved you and he never stopped loving you even when things got rocky. That the addiction made him act that way and he would do anything possible to never hurt you again. You sobbed when you read it. You kept it folded up in your nightstand for when the nights got really lonely and you needed a reminder that Eddie was going to get better. And that he still loved you despite the way things were left. 

The glass doors to the facility opened to reveal Wayne with a tall figure following closely behind him. You pushed off the truck to get a better look when he started speed walking towards you. 

You didn’t have time to react before you were being lifted off the ground in a tight hug. You melted into his arms, savoring the feeling of him. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wayne called out as he approached. 

Eddie put you down, holding you out at arms length so he could get a good look at you. His skin was no longer sunken in but healthy with a glow. His hair shined in the sunlight. Two brown eyes full of life stared back at you. 

Words escaped you. Part of you didn’t expect him to look better. You had expected to still see the sick and crying Eddie you had dropped off three months ago, not the one grinning at you now. The counselors had told you that this wasn’t a cure and he had to work hard for the rest of his life but it was a start to being better. 

“Holy shit,” you blurted out. 

Eddie's smile turned shy, his hands reaching up to cup your face. He looked at you for a second, making sure what he was about to do was okay. You nodded slightly, leaning in for your lips to meet. Eddie kissed you like he had been away for ninety years and not ninety days. 

When you finally broke apart, he whispered into your ear the words you wanted to hear. “Thank you for saving me.”

#tw addiction #tw substance abuse #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request

[vinsmokesangio]

"good for ya"

pairing: young!coriolanus x wife!reader

summary: you and your husband have a secret code for the intimate moments | based on good for you - selena gomez ft. a$ap rock

warnings: nsfw (minors dni) | afab!reader | cunnilingus | dirty talk | possessiveness | piv | unprotected sex | english is not my first language

my masterlist

a/n: You know when you haven't heard a song for years and when you hear it again you get that feeling as if it were the first time? I had this this week with "good for you" by Selena, and I immediately thought about writing about Coryo! hope you like it <3 PLUS, i'm not really good at writing smut but I tried my best lol

Simple and sparkling, Coriolanus Snow's initials in the shape of Marquise diamonds were on display on your neck. You didn't always wear it, but there was a kind of code between you and your husband where every time you wore that necklace, it was a sign that at the end of that day he could do whatever he wanted with you. Not that he didn't already do it, his possessive behavior went beyond the four walls. But in this case it was more special, your secret code, and above all, it symbolized how much you were his property.

One of the avoxes finished covering the makeup on your face with another thin layer of powder while the other pulled up the zipper of your tight dress, already knowing how much this would drive your husband crazy. You wave dismissing the avoxes that immediately leave your room, and then smile slightly, looking at your own reflection in the mirror. Your eyes shining with lust, just imagining what Corio would do to you at the end of this stupid ball. You were never a very sociable person, especially at these formal events that the new president of Panem was forced to hold to keep up appearances and pretend that he still cared about all those people he only interacted with out of obligation. But the reaction he had upon seeing you, and carrying his initials on a necklace with him, was worth it.

"Good girl. I know what you are asking for when you wear these Marquise diamonds.” he comes up from behind and whispers close to your ear, making your whole body shiver. His teasing mixed with a light scent of posca that came from his lips always brought you to a wave of adrenaline that was impossible to contain. You answer him, smiling mischievously.

“Let me show you how proud I am to be yours”. That sentence, that simple sentence spoken in your innocent and angelic voice, was enough for all of Coriolanus's self-control to immediately go away. And ironically, control was what he liked to have most, especially under you. “Let’s get out of here now.” Was all he could reply before grabbing one of your arms and guiding you to the second floor of the mansion, towards his room.

Once inside the room, Coryo's hands quickly search for the zipper of your dress, desperate to throw it on the floor. The whole set of things you had done today, for him, only for him, drove him crazy, especially knowing your true intentions. You just wanted to look good for him. Undressed, you walk to the bed without breaking eye contact with him, and sit, leaning your back, supporting your weight on your elbows. Teasing him, you take one of your hands to your necklace, while spreading your legs, like an invitation to a banquet.

“You naughty little girl. All dressed up just f’me” Coriolanus says as he walks towards you, unbuttoning the belts on his pants, already extremely tight due to his painful erection. With his pupils dilated and his blue eyes taking on darker tones, one of his hands finds your throat and squeezes it lightly. “You’ve been doing so good for me lately, and I’m going to repay you right now, darling”. His words make you let out a moan, as if they were going straight to your panties.

“Hmm, you taste so good, love” he attacks your pussy like a starving man, eating his first meal in months. The sounds of your moans are like music to him, which encourages him even more to skillfully move his tongue across your clit. He feels you squirm indicating your orgasm.

“C-coryo, I’m close, baby FUCK” shameless, you almost scream in pleasure, grabbing the sheets and pulling your husband’s hair, the way his nose presses against your clit is too much for you.

“That's good, huh? Come for me, pretty girl” and then you reach your peak, leaving your liquids all over Coriolanus's face, who was now smiling in approval. You never had such a beautiful sight.

“please, baby, I need you” “you need what? use your words, love” One of his hands goes to your chin and lifts your face slightly. "I need to feel your cock inside me, please Coryo!” you beg and Coriolanus feels his cock throb, as he puts you on your stomach and slaps your ass, making you gasp.

“you like that, huh? to be good for me, to wear my initials on your neck, you know you’re mine, don't you? my fucking property” he opens your legs and teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, already leaking pre-cum, which enters your soaking hole without difficulty. He starts to thrust lightly, increasing the speed as your moans also increase while his hands push you, making you sink onto the bed. Your cry of pleasure brings the feeling of control that Coriolanus likes so much, he loves the idea of knowing that he gives you so much pleasure.

He increases the speed of his thrusts, achieving his own pleasure, which arrives simultaneously with yours. Trying to catch your breath, you turn over in bed to face him.

“I’ll always be good for you”.

#coryo snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #giowriting #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus x you #tbosbas #snow lands on top #president snow

[xjulixred45x]

Hello again, Thank you for answering my first request. May I please request for Yandere Nanami x Frail darling x Yandere Gojo wherein Frail darling manages to escape and tries to hide from them ,but their sickly coughs give them away. How would they handle their darling?

Ohhhh this is very interesting! Im in!

Thank you for the new Request hun❤️

Yandere!Kento Nanami+Yandere! Satoru Gojo x Frail!Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader:neutral

Warnings: YANDERE(kind of soft, it still), UNHEALTY MINDSET, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, MANIPULATION, Minor intimidation, sickness, kind of infantilization, runaway scenario, SCARY GOJO AND NANAMI. Poly Yandere. A little long.

I have a feeling that you and Gojo and Nanami met in a very arbitrary way. You were someone who was part of their lives on a daily basis.

They probably frequented the same eating places as You, for example.

and to begin with, they were already aware of your fragile state of health from that moment on, if it was not because of your docile and weak attitude, it was because of your sudden attacks of coughing or sneezing.

It made both Gojo and Nanami notice you and in a way think more of you, since you were more likely to be a victim of Curses.

They took care of you from afar at first, like they were SUPPOSED to. It wasn't until Gojo decided to take the "first step" to interact directly with you with the excuse that this would better exorcise the curse that was close to you. (all without consulting Nanami obviously).

To be honest, from the beginning you felt a kind of intimidating presence, from both of them. You had recognized their existences because they were also frequent, sure, but when they appeared and entered your life, they definitely left you a little shabby. off your feet, to say the least.

Gojo was a very playful friend, you realized this before when you were listening to him talk to Nanami, he loved to annoy him and try to get him out of his temper. but with you it was more of a strangely affectionate type of game.

He would tone it down with you (Nanami's advice so as not to scare you), and he also always tried to make you laugh, which was sometimes a bit counterproductive because you would laugh so much that sometimes you would end up in a coughing fit, and with one of the people rubbing you. your back.

Nanami was more reserved, but his presence was no less intimidating than Gojo's, he made himself noticeable in your life, even though he was considerably calmer than Gojo.

Nanami would always want to be aware of EVERYTHING you were going through, especially with your illness. It didn't seem very strange to you, when the people in your circle knew about your fragile state, they tended to become hyper-aware of your health.

You just dismissed it as that, healthy and genuine concern, especially now that you were having trouble staying afloat with your illness.

You just didn't want to feel like a burden to others.

although indirectly you ended up fueling the obsessive thoughts of both men more.

Yandere Gojo, being Yandere Gojo, as soon as he had these kinds of thoughts he wanted to take you as soon as possible, but Nanami VERY CLEARLY set the limits to which they would go.

(Gojo was probably a yandere for Nanami before he knew it was also reciprocal, so Gojo tends to listen to him to keep him happy and not hold him against him.)

Nanami is a more obsessive and softer type of Yandere, but no less terrifying. In less than a day he already had all the information about his illness and needs in "emergency cases."

Even when Nanami tells Gojo that he's not going to tear you away from your everyday life, he doesn't act like that's the case. He buys many medical supplies and even he and Gojo set up a room together with hospital supplies in extreme cases (with Gojo family maids highly trained in medicine).

Kento wanted your arrival "home" to be perfect--

but Satoru hears himself in advance when he came one day alone to see you...

...and he came back, with you unconscious, in his arms.

To say that Kento was furious at first was an understatement.

But he calmed down relatively quickly, because after all, couldn't they take advantage of this opportunity? They would have to bring you sooner or later, even if he had preferred a better welcome...what's done is done.

In more general cases, these two are a kind of "Good Cop" (Kento) and "Bad Cop" (Satoru).

Satoru is extremely clingy now that he has you and Kento to himself, and he doesn't miss a chance to be close to you.

Apart from the fact that he is the one who is home the most, so he is the one who takes care of you the most, ironically.

Yandere Satoru tends to be a jerk from time to time okay? many times more than treating you like someone sick who still has DESIRES and NEEDS, treats you like a baby, wraps you in a blanket, feeds you with a spoon, etc.

(It's not a good idea to refuse your food unless Nanami is there, forcing it down your throat.)

although he is also the one who tends to spoil you the most and the least rude with "time out" precisely because of his own infantilizing dynamics.

He's like "You?? Runaway from them?? Ha!Like it's gonna happen."

Satoru is quite condescending and, above all, he believes that you are too fragile and delicate to get ready on your own, so he does almost everything for you (which makes everything very monotonous since you rarely leave your "room" and your muscles atrophy from lack of use).

He understands better when you don't want to take certain medicines either because they taste bad or because of the effects they can have on your body, so he usually just grinds them into powder (if possible) and puts them in your favorite food, this way he doesn't have to fight with you to take them.

(the food is done by Kento, Satoru canon burns water).

Although don't be fooled, he is very demanding with affection, hugs, kisses, cuddles, nicknames, both giving and RECEIVING, if you want to gain his trust, a good way to do it is to play along.

Kento, on the other hand, tends to be a bit controlling, but she's the one who doesn't swim because she takes the issue of your health very VERY seriously.

Whenever possible, he will be the one to give you medicine, cook for you, help you change, you don't have to do anything. What happens if you get hurt while trying to cook? Or slip when you try to bathe?

The guy is paranoid.

He probably even gave you a pacemaker without telling you so he could have a record of your heart rates in case of an "emergency"☠️

Nanami is gentle when it comes to you, but at the same time he doesn't underestimate you, there are always several locks on the front door, plus the ones on your door, not to mention the monitor she put in your shared room so he can keep track of everything.

Kento always keeps Gojo in line, and in a way makes him more empathetic to your situation, even if he respects him, he doesn't fully trust him to take care of you. You can use that to your advantage, if you want to be away from Satoru for a while just tell Kento and they will "have a talk".

Although, honestly, Kento may be even more Manipulative than Satoru.

For example, using what happened with Haibara in his youth as an excuse, opening up emotionally to you, to manipulate you and make you see that he is "the lesser of two evils."

As far as possible, both are better in what one lacks. That was what prevented a bad scenario. or at least a worse one you were in now, stuck with both of them.

but on one occasion SOMETHING happens...

It was one of the few days when you would be alone for a couple of hours.

It was a golden opportunity to escape.

you went over everything twice, you took out your pacemaker, you evaded the monitor and Satoru's employees, damn, you managed to get outside!

And what seemed like the icing on the cake? Satoru was supposed to be in Kyoto, even if Nanami started searching on her own, she wouldn't realize you were gone until very late.

You ran and ran as much as you could through the streets of Tokyo, occasionally stealing a few items of clothing to change your appearance a little, paranoid that Kento or Satoru were around the corner.

The plan was to go to the train station in Shibuya - hopefully with so many people you would be harder to detect - and take the first train that would take you away from there, to an airport perhaps.

but as you were going down to go to where the trains were, YOU FELT IT.

His heavy preferences were down there... waiting for you...

How did they know that was where you were going? You had no idea, but you fled in the opposite direction again.

you hid in an alley the best you could. with your heart racing and your heart in your mouth as you felt how they were getting closer...

You had some hope, a little, when they were going to continue on....when--.

A cough.

a coughing fit.

You tried to cover your mouth and muffle the sound, curl up into a ball, anything. so --

-"I found youuuu!~"-

Saotru was right next to you...

Kento made a mistake, but don't worry, this wouldn't happen again, you wouldn't be left alone again if he could avoid it, reinforce security, be with you longer! anything for you!

You have no idea how much you worried them! As soon as Satoru received the call from Kento that you had run away from his house, he stopped everything he was doing and went to help him.

Poor thing! You must be so scared being out there alone! You didn't even bring your cough medicine or anything warm. What happens if you get an outbreak from or due to humidity? You didn't even bring a mask!

Good thing they found you in time, right? You are even crying with joy when you see them! They should take you to the Gojo estate as soon as possible and give me your medicine before your throat becomes infected, stop kicking! They know you like to walk but you are weak! you are weak..

you are fragile!

let them take care of you💙💛

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu no kaisen #yandere #yandere satoru gojo x reader #yandere nanami x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere kento nanami #yandere nanami #gojo x reader x nanami

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I turned my coworker in for using his phone?

☎️ for obvious reasons.

So I’m gonna put this up front: this isn’t actually about the phone, it’s about the coworker. The phone is just convenient.

Our players are me (35 AFAB), Coworker A (~30 M), Supervisor C (N/A M), D (N/A F), and L (N/A F).

So first, the reason I have beef with A: he has never had a conversation with me that didn’t involve hitting on me and/or inappropriate questions. These have included demanding to know who I voted for, how my paycheck is delivered, whether I’m in a throuple with my roommates, and whether I have a boyfriend, which wouldn’t be weird except it was literally the first question he ever asked me—he didn’t even know my name yet. After I yelled at him over the voting thing because he refused to take “I don’t discuss politics at work” for an answer FOUR TIMES, he tried to break my glasses when I put them down so I could put on my safety goggles.

You may be wondering why I haven’t turned A in for harassment, ESPECIALLY after the glasses incident. I have. The problem is, he’s very good at looking pathetic and saying “I was just _________.” In this case, he was just looking at my glasses (never mind that you shouldn’t be playing with someone else’s expensive medical device!), and just making conversation. In spite of the fact that he was ignoring his trainee and distracting me from my work, he somehow got away with this. After a few of my screwdrivers went missing the same day he went pawing through them and he broke my brand-new pen, C told him to stop having anything to do with me, that his attention WAS NOT WELCOME.

Now we get to L and D. They’re two of our coworkers who can solve just about any problem you have. Ever since A was warned off, I’ve noticed that if I’m working with L or D, suddenly A needs all kinds of help that keeps bringing him over to our machine, and he always seeks out help from whoever it is I’m working with—if I’m with L he’ll go to L, if I’m with D he’ll go to D. If you’re a dude and think I’m overreacting, go ask a couple of the women in your life—you probably know someone who’s had similar experiences. (And for the record, another coworker I only know to say hello to has commented that his behavior toward me makes her feel like “he wants to wear your skin or something.”) I don’t think A is actively dangerous, but he’s very clearly a creep—especially because he also has a girlfriend and baby and still keeps doing this.

Now we get to the phone. I work in a factory where we’re not allowed to have phones on the floor because we work with food product and a phone dropping in a box is a huge contamination issue, on top of which distraction at my job can lead to life-changing, possibly even life-threatening injuries. (I was on a machine that threw its chain drive once and the only reason I didn’t lose an eye is because there happened to be another machine piece between me and the snap.) So: phones are a big no. Management will look the other way for people in extenuating circumstances, like having a sick kid at home, but in those cases your phone is to remain in your pocket and if it rings and you need to answer, you have to leave the floor.

I have caught A texting FOUR TIMES in the last month. Once I caught the words on his phone screen, and he was making plans for a party. That’s definitely not extenuating circumstances, and twice I’ve found his phone in the product catch tray.

So: very against rules that are there for the safety of us and our end users, and if I turn him in he’s going to get a writeup and possibly even a termination, which would mean I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. On the other hand, if he gets fired for violating safety standards he’ll have a hard time getting new work, and his baby doesn’t deserve hardship just because Dad is a creeper. Also, while I don’t carry my phone on the floor, I worry that turning him in could lead to a blanket ban that affects those in extenuating circumstances, because I’m almost positive he’d try “I was just checking on the baby” as his excuse.

WIBTA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[thechanelmuse]

How to Get a Menacing Bully to Spiral & Destroy Their Reputation and Brand 😮‍💨

Back in 2021, I reviewed The 48 Laws of Power. One of my favorites. As stated then, it's a well-researched “handbook on the art of indirection” that’s filled with stories and strategies on how societies, groups and individuals throughout history to the present-day have navigated to obtain and/or maintain power. People consider this book to be evil if you're viewing it from a perspective of offense. But if you're an observant and analytical person like myself, you'll simultaneously view it from a perspective of defense on how to protect yourself from someone else's power.

Megan Thee Stallion's "Hiss" to unbothered silence and Nicki Minaj's 3-day unhinged crash out is a perfect 48 Laws of Power moment.

Megan epitomizes Law 4 and Nicki, who's always viewed herself as untouchable, superior to "her sons," and the self-proclaimed Queen of Rap, destroys Law 5.

Law 4: Always Say Less Than Necessary

When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

"Power is in many ways a game of appearances, and when you say less than necessary, you inevitably appear greater and more powerful than you are. Your silence will make other people uncomfortable. Humans are machines of interpretation and explanation; they have to know what you are thinking. When you carefully control what you reveal, they cannot pierce your intentions or your meaning.

"Your short answers and silences will put them on the defensive and they will jump in, nervously filling the silence with all kinds of comments that will reveal valuable information about them and their weaknesses. [...] In most areas of life, the less you say, the more profound and mysterious you appear. [...] Once the words are out, you cannot take them back. Keep them under control. The momentary satisfaction you gain with your biting words will be outweighed by the price you pay."

Law 5: So Much Depends On Reputation — Guard It With Your Life

Reputation is the cornerstone of power: through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once it slips however you are vulnerable and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them.

Before I continue with more excerpts from this law, I wanna point out that Nicki's behavior and slander felt like a struggling display of an overt narcissist trying to discard their perceived enemy. People with that condition, lack empathy overall, spiral and lash out to end you emotionally and mentally when you publicly embarrass them and/or privately shut them out when you cause their mask to fall. Manic anger. Just keep that in mind.

More excerpts:

"A solid reputation increases your presence and exaggerates your strengths without your having to spend much energy. It can also create an aura around you that will instill respect, even fear.[...]

"Make your reputation simple and base it on one sterling quality. This single quality — efficiency, say, or seductiveness — becomes a kind of calling card that announces your presence and places others under a spell. [...] Perhaps you have already stained your reputation, so that you are prevented from establishing a new one. In such cases it is wise to associate with with someone whose image counteracts your own, using their good name to whitewash and elevate your own.

"Once [your reputation] is solid, do not let yourself get angry or defensive at the slanderous comments of your enemies—that reveals insecurity, not confidence. Take the high road instead, and never appear desperate in your self-defense.

"You must not seem to engage in petty 😏 vengeance. If you do not break your enemy's reputation cleverly, you will inadvertently ruin your own."

Emotions cloud reason while silence is golden.

Nevermind that Nicki emboldened her cult following of fans to dox Erykah Badu, Victoria Monét, Lil Ju (Megan's producer), the resting place of Megan's mother 🪦, and anyone who verbalized or appeared to be on opposition... There's a whole chapter in this book on cults: Law 27.

Checkmate, Megan.

#megan thee stallion #hiss #nicki minaj #big foot #48 laws of power #robert greene

[melminli]

Devil's Advocate

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quite amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 2k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part II

"What a fucking nightmare." You muttered to yourself in annoyance as you got out of the car that had driven you up the hill. You slammed the door behind you and didn't bother to look back as the car drove away, your eyes glued to the huge hotel in front of you. You looked grimly at the building for a short while until you finally decided to walk to the door. "Someone's going to get fucked if he's not in this shitty hotel, I swear to God."

Your hand was about to knock on the door when, to your surprise, it was suddenly yanked open. You hadn't even had a chance to touch the wood with your knuckles. "A new guest! Hello! So nice to meet you. My name is Charlie!" Shouted an enthusiastic voice with stars in her eyes as she excitedly grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. She didn't even give you a chance to give her a reaction. "Vaggie! Look! Look, I told you I had a good feeling today! And that good feeling is actually here!"

Her girlfriend looked at your figure with puckered eyes. Vaggie looked at your most prominent features one by one. Cat-like, four eyes, and a fifties style...oh no. "Charlie? I think that - " she began, slightly worried, but didn't get to finish her sentence.

"I'm just here for a visit." You quickly announced before things could get any more difficult and saw the princess's happy mood drop at your words as she let go of your hand at the same time. "I apologize if I gave the wrong impression but you don't happen to have a pussy working around here?" You asked with interest, looking around the room as your eyes landed on a bar. Well, this couldn't have been made easier for you. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you only spotted a spider-like figure on one of the chairs.

"Well, only if ya talking about our good-looking Husky." He said with a big grin on his face and pointed behind him. You could then hear a deep voice swearing. Still, he didn't give himself away, and you sighed at his childish behavior as you stepped closer to the bar. "There's no reason for you to hide anymore. You've already been exposed." You said as you narrowed your eyes at the empty space until he finally appeared. "Fuck you, Angel..." he grunted out.

"Why don't ya do it for me ~ "

You all ignored his flirting. Charlie, out of her own curiosity, decided to move closer to the scene as well. After all, it could still be the case that you would eventually decide to give the hotel a shot. She didn't want to completely rule out this possibility, even if it was a small one. "Oh, so you're here to see Husker?" She asked you, finally seeing the resemblance between the two of you. Well, you both had a cat-like appearance, after all. "Oh! Are you two siblings?"

You laughed. "No. At this point, I'm even doubting whether I'm even friends with this fucker." You answered her when your mood turned sour and you hit the table angrily with both your fists. "Where the hell have you been! I've been looking all over the place to find your ass!" You yelled out, causing the others to flinch slightly at your tone.

"...look, it's a bit difficult to explain. I didn't think about telling you where I am because - " he tried to explain himself when you interrupted him.

You waved your right hand in the air, uninterested. "Yeah, I don't give a damn where you are. I'm not your mother." You said and then crossed your arms. "What I do care about is when your stupid little friend kills my employees to steal my fucking money." You said as your eyes darkened. "And you know how I feel about my money."

Oh, fuck me.

Before the conversation between you could continue, you were interrupted by another voice that wasn't afraid to intrude on the conversation. "Oh my, do we have a problem here?" He asked with a broad smile as he appeared out of nowhere.

Charlie looked at the scene a little nervously. Why am I starting to get a bad feeling? She was briefly interrupted by her worries as Vaggie leaned closer to her so she could whisper something to her ear. "I couldn't tell you before, but that woman over there is the person who owns the banks in hell. Like, all of them. I only heard of her until now." She murmured to her. "As you can guess, she's somewhat of a big deal...they call her She-Devil."

Well, I suppose that's why. The Princess of Hell looked between your irritated figure and Alastor while sweating a little. Two powerful demons in one room couldn't be a good sign, not in this hotel. She tried to calm down and stay positive. Maybe nothing will happen? Maybe they will become friends.

You blinked a few times before looking up and down at the unknown figure to take in his appearance. Then you turned to Husker and pointed your thumb at the guy. "Who the hell is this smiley freak. Do you know him?" You asked, annoyed, and even though you lowered your volume a little, everyone in the room could still hear you clearly enough. Well, it wasn't like you were trying to be subtle or anything, you didn't really care if they heard. "Hey Knuckles, is that your hair or your ears? I can't quite make it out." You laughed as your tail swung comfortably behind you.

Oh no. Everyone in the room looked a little worried at your figure, not really daring to say a word, let alone laugh along.

Alastor's smile looked a little strained as he turned his head robotically to the side. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name is Alastor. Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart. Quite the pleasure." He said, holding his hand out in front of him, and you shook it without a care in the world. Now that you had heard his name, it sounded familiar. "Alastor...aren't you that Radio Devil?"

His eye twitched slightly. "Radio Demon, to be exact."

Oh.

A slight smile graced your face. "Didn't know you were back in town. Does that mean you're coming back to the radio business? 'Cause I hate that podcast of the 2D face and could use some good entertainment." You asked him and saw Husker give you an annoyed look. He's trying to tell me something, but what is it...

You thought for a few seconds and looked back at Alastor until you finally realized it. You looked back and forth between the two of them, and Husker raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, you finally got it?

Oh.That Alastor.

After your comment, the Radio Demon seemed to be in a better mood. "Oh, thank you, my dear. You got quite a good taste there, which is getting harder and harder to find these days." He replied with his familiar smile. "But to get back to your question, I guess I have to say...I'm not called the Radio Demon for nothing."

Of course not. "Good." You say and turn back to the bartender. "Now, where were we? Oh right, I was about to fuck you up." You announced and were about to climb over the bar to let your fists do the talking, only to be stopped by the many arms of the spider next to you. "Whoa, calm down Kitty Kat! As much as I'd love to see the pussy fight between ya two, why don't we hear the man out first, huh?"

You groaned. These people wouldn't let you do your job. "Because we're in hell? And nobody gives a shit?" You rub your forehead, exhausted. "But whatever, talk then."

Husker's head slowly looked up from behind the counter. "...remember how I said that Larry is a very good friend of mine who you can trust completely and that you can therefore give him a job in your company without worrying?" He said carefully before continuing. "Yeah, I lied about that. I lost to him in a game a long time ago, and I owed him a favor."

You looked around the room. "Did you hear that? Are you happy now? I just wanted to punch him in the face and call him stupid names to get it out of my system, but now I'm not only angry but also disappointed...he doesn't even bother to apologize." You said and sat down. You interrupted him before he could say a word. "Just make me a drink since it's the only thing you're good at."

This could have ended worse. Charlie took a step towards you so she could stand next to you. "Well, now that you're here, I can tell you about the concept of our hotel! I'm sure you won't want to leave once you've heard it." She announced cheerfully, unable to read the room at all. She was also just pretty desperate to get more people into this hotel and had a hard time dealing with the fact that the only one who she got in wanted to leave again.

Her girlfriend was about to tell her that maybe this was a bad time to bring it up, but surprisingly, you didn't mind talking about it. "Oh, you don't need to. I've already heard a few things." You began giving the girl hope as you didn't have that demeaning undertone that other people usually had. "You're planning to rehabilitate sinners here, no?"

"Yes! Do you want to give it a shot?"

You shook your head. "Not really." You replied, unknowingly shattering her dreams. Your hand reached for your drink as you turned to the spider next to you. "And the last time I checked, they don't let gay people in there, darling."

Angel Dust rolled his eyes. "Well, ain't that good fucking news. Does that mean I can stop being clean? 'Cause I don't wanna to stop sucking dick." He said and acted dramatically. Tears came up and were about to run down his cheeks when a single beam of light shone on him as he leaned on a chair with his chest. "Ya guys know I love sucking dick."

Panicked, Charlie waved her hands aggressively in the air. "No, of course not! There are gay people in heaven!" She shouted out until she realized she wasn't so sure about that. She needed to do more research on the rules up there. She turned to her girlfriend, looking to her for support. "Isn't that right, Vaggie? There are gay people in heaven?"

She assured everyone in the room. "Of course, there are gay people in heaven."

"Okay, good," Charlie pronounced as she let out a relieved breath with one hand on her chest. She then happily turned back to Angel Dust. "So, you can continue to stay clean then, Angel."

He had a bit of a disappointed look on his face while he sluggishly held his arm in the air to celebrate. "Yay, woo..."

#x female y/n #x female reader #x reader #x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #vivziepop #hazbin hotel husk #fanfiction #funny shit #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[chrollohearttags]

reverb • chapter eleven

synopsis: eren and (y/n) finally meet again after weeks apart, only to find themselves engaged in a weekend full of passionate love making. In the midst of their steamy rendezvous, EJ poses a question that not only leaves the shocked (y/n) stunned but himself as well..asking if she’d like to go out with him. Not certain of how things will pan out if they decide to date, (y/n) is hesitant but then recalls a conversation she’d had with her uncle just days prior. What will her answer be? Meanwhile, the aftermath of Armin’s annual party is revealed when he and Niesha’s game of cat and mouse comes to a boiling head. Things only get worse when his affluent, billionaire parents invite him to dinner to discuss an important family matter. The carefree playboy is given news that will force him to make the hardest decision he’ll ever have to face.

word count: 9.5K

content + themes: sexual themes, fluff, romance, mentions of tarot, spirituality and light work, violence, mentions of gang activity and guns, drug mentions, bits of angst, more flashbacks of (y/n)’s past, mentions of abuse, comedy + humor, crack, drama, choking but it turns sexual idk how to describe it, sorry, toxic, TOXIC behaviors I do not condone, angsty at the end

“Whatever choice you make, son. I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

📝: thank you guys so much for sticking around and supporting this story! I’m so happy when you guys send thoughtful comments and feedback, asks, etc. it makes my entire day and gives me so much motivation. I know y’all are probably sick of the cliffhangers but trust, there’s a reason! 😭 anyways, I hope you like the story. Reblogs, comments, etc are very appreciated!! Also, I like to make the reader’s backstory as vivid as possible. Although you may not resonate with it personally, it is important to the story itself. So keep that in mind when reading, please.

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“Wh-what?..wait, EJ..what are you saying?”

“..Thought I made myself pretty clear..I want to go on a date with you. Do this right..”

in that moment, time felt as if it were standing completely still..nothing about this entire ordeal felt like reality right now. There was no way that not only had you spent hours entangled in the sheets with EJ the Don, exchanging kisses, sweat and every other bodily fluid possible. There was no way you were in this famous rapper’s house, let alone his bed..and there was certainly no way in hell that he had just asked you out mid-orgasm..certainly you had to be dreaming! But alas, here you were with your bodies melded together as one. Those jade colored eyes beaming down at you with the most serene of energy. In a way, his words brought you comfort..peace. Normally, guys would try and pressure you into situations that you weren’t ready for. Using sex as a clever segway into whatever their true goal was. But that wasn’t the case with him. Truth be told, he didn’t have to lie to get what he wanted..he was honest to a fault and maybe that was one of his biggest flaws. He couldn’t be deceitful and that oftentimes led to him hurting people’s feelings. His little spat with Mikasa was a prime example..had he exercised a bit of restraint, maybe the situation wouldn’t have blown up the way it had. With you, he was hoping to have the opposite effect. If he wanted you gone, you would’ve been ass naked in the back of an Uber before the sun came up. He was the last man who had to lie his way into some pussy so obviously, he was coming from a place of sincerity. Pushing gently at his chest, (Y/N) shifted your head to the side, thinking that if you did not look at him directly, those pangs of butterflies wouldn’t come rushing through your stomach. Instead, you were met with the soft grasp of his fingers underneath your chin. “Or not..” pausing to collapse next to you. Not only for a breather but because he felt as though he had set something wrong. Maybe he was being a little too forward and persistent. Or maybe he was a damn fool and this whole school kid, whirlwind crush was unrequited. But little did he know, you felt the exact same! Hell, maybe even stronger..it had been forever since you’d look at anyone the way you did him. And so what if it had only been two months since you guys knew each other? You’d heard that age old cliche ‘love at first sight’ more than you could count. Even if it wasn’t quite to that stage yet, you knew it was far stronger than just sex. You both had set it in your minds, unbeknownst to the other..that if you fucked one more time and those feelings didn’t remain, then you’d call it quits. But as you suspected..you were head over heels. Even when you finally managed to get some rest after the long night, you were dreaming of him. It was crazy! It honestly brought you back to a conversation you had just a few days prior…

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flashback• five days ago: Wisteria Gardens Apartments • southside

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The warm Florida sun peering down over the coast of Miami Beach, waves crashing subtly against sandy shores as patrons splashed through the cool waters and children built grainy castles. The picturesque view is the ideal representation of the bustling city. But lying within its intricate roadways and landscapes was an entirely different viewpoint. One far less appealing and inviting. Only those familiar with the areas would dare travel there..for them, ironically..it was home. The only place they felt welcomed. The projects. The ghetto..where many of Miami’ elites got their start and oftentimes dubbed their stomping grounds. Including upcoming stars, (Y/N) (L/N) and Niesha Daniels. Residents of Opa Locka’s infamous 8th Street. Where drug dealers and sex workers roamed frequently. Where those who only knew of violence and criminal activity thrived..but for you? It always brought forth a sense of nostalgia. The strange thing was, you weren’t too far removed from the dire situation you grew up in but it felt unreal going from rubbing elbows with rockstars to now driving through your old hood with Dior shades on your eyes. You remember the nights that you and your granny would hear gunshots from down the street; getting word that one of her friends’ grandsons or nephews had been involved in gang activity. Or the more joyful memories of you and Niesha walking to the corner store on Friday nights. Dressed just like the girls who were dubbed ‘hoochies’ back in the day but sporting your sew ins, micros, long acrylics and gold earrings proudly. The smell of fresh fish frying and BBQ plates outside of the gas station while crowds chatted and danced. Dope boys stationed in the parking lot with the doors of their Chevy Impalas swung wide open, blasting Jeezy and Ross as you both walked by. Being cat called by men old enough to be your fathers as they shot dice in front of the store doorway. It was a very different life from the one you both lived now. Hence why you were back..hoping to gain some clarity from the one person you had been dreading to see since returning home. Navigating your new rose gold Mercedes G Wagon into the parking lot of the Wisteria Gardens Apartments, you pulled into an empty space, promptly killing the engine afterwards. On the opposite side of the large complex sat a duplex, tucked off in the corner. Luckily, that was your destination so you wouldn’t be spotted. Neither would your vehicle. Stepping out in high-top brown and pink Dunks, biker shorts showing off your small leg tattoo and a Balenciaga sweatshirt. The 613 balayage flowed down your back and tied into a ponytail..(y/n) tossed the small crossbody over your shoulder and headed up to the front door on the left side, where you left two small knocks. It was then that you were greeted by the sound of serene music and bells playing. You’d push the door once more to realize that it was not only unlocked but slightly ajar. If it told you anything, it was that the man inside was hard at work and awaiting you. “Unc? Uncle Bam..you home?” Silence.

That was until you heard the deep tone of a male answer you back.

“About time you showed up, honey..” turning around, you were greeted with the calming aura and deep set eyes of a tall, darker skinned male with a muscular build and neatly styled dreads. Around his neck hung an Eye of Horus pendant and crystals. It was him..

“Unc!”

“Welcome home, baby girl. It’s been so long.”

akin to that of a little child, you leapt into his arms and beamed with joy! It had been roughly two years since you’d last been to his home. Travel and work had kept you so busy, you never had time. He was the only living family member that you had any sort of contact with from either side. Much like the many estranged ones, your uncle Benny, affectionately known as Bam around the area had grown up into a life of crime and as they always say with trouble, it’s easy to get in and even harder to get out of. He had spent his younger years in and out of prison before landing himself in there for fifteen years after beating the abuser of one of his closest friends nearly to death. He was a good man with a kind soul.

During his incarceration, he delved deep into spirituality. More so tarot and lightwork. An innate gift he knew he had possessed since childhood. He decided that once he got out, he’d walk the straight and narrow from then on out. Now a free man, he spends his days honing his craft here at his home; doing detailed readings, cleanses and spell work. As quiet as it was kept, he was the sole reason you were where you were right now. Shortly after the death of your grandmother, you were left alone. Your mom and her only daughter didn’t even bother to show up to the funeral and once she did show her face, she caused a scene. Only coming around in hopes of claiming some inheritance so she could promptly go shoot it up in a back alley somewhere. Then there was your father, sitting idly in Florida State Prison, serving life after he committed the ultimate sin. Needless to say, you wanted no parts of either of them anyways.

But you needed someone and luckily, your uncle had gotten to a far better place since finishing out his stint. He was living in a very nice duplex home with his long time partner, Kelvin. Who was equally as kind and loving as he was. Without question, he allowed you to stay in the other half without paying a dime for as long as you pleased. The two had come upon some serious money from their old ventures and decided to invest their funds. Restoring old apartment complexes that had been previously overrun by gang members and providing low income housing to the residents. Sometimes even waiving rent payments altogether for those in need. Essentially investing back into the community they called home. He truly was your idol..especially since it was him who introduced you to pole as a means of stress relief and self expression. Soon, that hobby turned into untapped talent that he felt needed to be shared. So one day, you began sharing the videos to your bare Instagram feed, quickly accruing a large following. One thing led to another and now, you were performing on stages larger than life. Without him, there would be no Pole Assassins or (influencer name).

“I know..that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry..been busy. Thank you for the biscuits by the way. They were so good.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, chile. I know how much you used to love those things. Miss (grandma’s name) used to make them for me all the time. Besides, I know them folks been keeping you on your toesss. But get that money. I ain’t mad at you.”

uttering the sentiment in a rather feminine and expressive tone, waving his hand fan to feign off any smoke. Candles burned from the corners, along with pungent incense. It looked as if he were just in the middle of charging some crystals when you came in. But it was rather perfect timing..as he had predicted, you’d be making your way over. So he was prepared!

“Gone take a seat, honey. I’ll get you some tea.” feeling just as cozy as you did years ago, you’d plop down in one of the plush, throne like chairs and wait for him to join you. Whilst he was pouring up a batch of his famous iced tea, you scoured the various decks of cards and oracles with your eyes. Fascinated by this unknown world, you could only imagine what this visit would entail. “So..tell me how the life of the rich and famous has been treating my dear niece..how’s Beyonce and ‘nem?” sending you into a fit of laughter. He was such a card sometimes, always saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Ooh..now Unc, you know I’m far from that but..we're working on it. It’s been good though..can’t complain..” Just then, a wave of sudden sadness overtook you and you’d recall crying this morning. And almost instantly, he’d pick up on it.

“But?..”

“But what?..”

A question you and he both already knew the fateful answer to. You were severely depressed; a hole you couldn’t seem to come out of. No matter how many accolades, accomplishments and even happy moments you accrued. It all felt meaningless..you still didn’t have the two things you so desperately sought after. And if anyone knew that, it was him.

“You still feel like you haven’t done enough. Or rather..something’s missing.” You knew he’d read you like a book but if you knew that, you’d also know that he was far from done with his investigation. Finally working his way back to the table, he’d hand you the glass and take a seat before you. The two oracle decks you were previously looking over, he’d pick up and shuffle through. He was full and aware of how to help ease your worry and hopefully clear up some of your pressing questions. He had done it so many times before..it had been so long since you’d had one of his signature readings. Uncle Bam’s predictions were almost always spot on so if you could trust someone’s intuition, even when it wasn’t your own, you could trust him. “Don’t worry,, we gon’ help you out. Take a couple breaths for me while I get these shuffled.” Without hesitation, you did so. Inhaling slowly and exhaling all the same with your eyes closed. This was always done to help center yourself before a reading; bringing you closer to the universe and to help you realize what it is you need to hear.

slowly but surely, he’d begin to dish out cards. Akin to that of a black jack dealer, they’d fly onto the table face down and soon after, he’d flip them over. Taking a moment to mull over them, he’d place his finger to his chin and release a deep sigh. The look on his face had you concerned for a moment..as if he were contemplating something serious. Perhaps, you were in worse shape than you thought.

“..there’s something you’ve been feeling conflicted about. Somebody rather. You’re scared..” the words drawing a look of concern and a slight gasp from between your lips. What exactly did he mean?

“These feelings..they’re strong. You feel so deeply for this person and you don’t want to because you’re afraid of getting hurt. Afraid that they won’t feel the same. It’s like you keep telling yourself, ‘it’s too soon..’ You also feel like if you pursue this one thing, then you failed at everything else. I’m seeing..flowers of some kind. Purple. Some flower that meant a lot to you. Maybe you saw something today that brought back intense memories for you. Maybe they even made you cry..”

as he was spouting off his visions, you’d feel a slight lump form in the back of your throat. It was heavy and hard to swallow. Afraid that if you did, you’d burst into tears right then and there. You hadn’t uttered a word to Uncle Bam about your situation and you knew no one else could have either. Not about your granny’s house, about Eren..nothing. Even Niesha, who was a notorious blabbermouth. He more than likely whisked right into your apartment with those biscuits and right out. As far as the flowers, he was spot on. The name of this place? Wisteria Gardens and ironically, it was the same plants that surrounded this complex. Much like the ones that used to grow in your grandma’s yard every year. Beautiful, lavender flowers that hung like bearing fruit. Seeing them again dredged up those memories of playing in the yard and picking them for her vases. It was just his innate sense of intuition. He truly was a master of his craft. Divinity was his true calling! He’d pull back for a moment and wipe his own eyes, reaching over for a burning stick, wrapped in twine and cloth. “Whew! Gon’ make me break the sage out in here..this is heavy, honey!..” breaking a bit of the tension and intense emotions up by making you laugh. “But let’s keep going..” he’d continue surveying the cards and shuffling through. Picking out the ones that resonated with him the most. Fortunately, there was some good in this reading so he’d gravitate towards that.

“..But I see you’ve also been feeling gracious. I’m seeing a lot of gratitude. You’re happy with how far you’ve come. There’s something you’ve had your eye on..maybe a new purse or some type of jewelry. Reward yourself, chile. You’ve earned it.” It was right then that he’d decide to place the cards down and remove his glasses, wiping up the remnants of his tears with a bit of laughter. That’s when he’d reach across the table to grasp your hands.

“(Y/N), sweetheart. You’re a wonderful young woman. Always have been..you got a good head on your shoulders. For as long as I could remember, you never gave your grandma trouble. You were smart, even when things were hard for you, you did everything you were supposed to and I’m so proud of you. It ain’t been easy for you and hell, you could’ve ended up just like me, your mama and your daddy but you didn’t..you’ve come such a long way..” It was then that the words began to spill out as did your tears because it had been so long since you’d heard someone tell you that they were proud of you.

“Thank you, Unc. I’ve been trying..I really have.”

But alas, that wasn’t all he had to say. There was one more tidbit of advice he had to give. Looking you dead in your eyes, he’d hold your hands.

“I know, baby. That’s why I’m telling you if you don't listen to anything else and I don’t need these cards to say it, it’s this..go live your life. You’ve been working since you were seventeen. Ain’t stopped since. Your granny would be so proud of you so go live. If this person is truly making you as happy as I can tell they are, go for it. Go find your peace, you’ve earned it.” and with that, you knew from that moment, what had to be done….

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So with this man now lying next to you, eyes averted to the covers because he was a little embarrassed, you’d hastily reach over and cup his face into another kiss before rolling over on top of him. “Stop looking like that.” immediately, he’d begin to flush red and try to form a sentence but you rendered him impossible with your tongue. Brushing your fingers through his hair and straddling him. Just a moment ago, you seemed completely uninterested and now, you were trying to go at it again. What changed?

“Of course I’d love to go out with you, EJ. Nothing would make me happier.” and you had just made him the happiest he had been in a while! Grabbing your waist, he’d break into an adorable cackle, just feeling so relieved that you hadn’t rejected him. “Thank goodness..” which brought you to a soft giggle in return. Which soon transformed into you full blown laughing. For the first time in a long time, you’d have a heartfelt laugh..

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing..I was just thinking about something.”

Flipping back over onto your side and running your finger down the perimeter of his chest, you’d place a gentle kiss along his cheek before coiling those smaller arms around his torso.

“So what exactly did the brilliant EJ have in mind for a first date?” causing the rapper to gulp in response because out of all his areas of expertise, romance wasn’t his strong suit. The fact that he had actually managed to bag your fine ass in the first place was an achievement in and of itself! Now, he was left with the task of ensuring that he kept you around..cradling his arm around you, he’d look down with a soft grin and place a kiss to your forehead. Trying his hardest to lay on the charm.

��Well, I was thinking maybe a nice dinner, a little walk on the beach..” but as his words trailed off, something told you that wasn't exactly his style. He seemed far too laid back for the luxurious, pompous date nights..but he was trying to be as chivalrous as possible. After all, it wouldn’t be the slightest bit polite to take a woman he had spent all night going raw in for burgers and fries on an official first date! Even so, you wanted him to be comfortable as well. Something you’d both enjoy. Not only that, if you wanted to do this right and not just be two people sleeping together without the slightest clue about the other..then it was important to just let go of the awkward jitters and ask outright what your interests were. No need in being shy after all that had happened. No need in being afraid..this was a safe space.

“Unless..there’s something else you wanted to do.” which prompted you to start giggling yet again. And this time, his little cheeks flustered red and he’d stare yet again, feeling embarrassed. Nobody had tripped EJ the Don up quite like you. Here he was stumbling over himself like a bumbling idiot and all of that confidence he had used to seduce you was flying out the window. Even so, you thought it was just the cutest thing ever. “Not at all. That actually sounds really nice but..I wanna know what it is you like to do. Not just what you think will impress me. In fact…” stopping amid your rant to run a finger down the center of his chest. “I wanna get to know the man behind all of that music. The real you..I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love me some EJ but..Eren? He seems a lot cooler and I can’t wait to meet him.” And for the first time in a long time, his heart would begin to flutter..beating out of his chest because no woman had ever asked him such a thing. Granted, he was putting them out before they could get too close but deep down, he knew they only wanted one thing and that was to use his namesake for a come up. They didn’t care about who he was outside of the chains, money and fame. He was a meal ticket and nothing more. And here you were, wanting to see him for who he truly was. To hell with waiting or being too soon, he had to make you his before somebody else came and snatched you up!

“We’re a little past favorite colors and TV shows, don’t you think?”

“No better time than the present, sweetheart. Maybe we can talk about it..after we get a shower.”

Which didn’t sound like too bad of an idea right now. The only question was what you were going to wear, seeing as how you arrived in nothing more than a bikini and had been wearing nothing but his sheets and body fluids since. But he’d figure something out. For now, you two of you could continue your ‘bonding’ under the warm waters of a shower head.

“Guess you’re right. Speaking of..what do you like for breakfast? I can have my assistant go get–”

“I was actually thinking I’d cook a little something. If you don’t mind. The restaurants on this side of town can’t make breakfast worth a damn. They crack an egg on the plate, smear some sauce around and charge a hundred dollars for it. No thanks..hope you like grits.”

that was all he needed to hear to be confident that he had made the right decision..you were everything he had been looking for in a woman!..grinning from ear to ear, Eren would roll to his side and hop up, gently tugging you up afterwards.

“Or do you northerners not know anything about that?”

“Give me some credit now. I’ve been living among you country bumpkins long enough to know about grits. And other things too.”

It felt good to know that neither of you had to put on a facade around one another. And with that, the witty banter and jokes ensued. Poking fun at one another like old friends.

“Oh, is that so? Like what?” questioning as the two of you walked towards the bathroom. It’s then that he’d lift up your arm and twirl you around to examine your backside, even leaving a light slap to watch it ripple. “I know that it didn't come from a doctor. That’s gotta be greens and cornbread. Got to be.” Shaking his head in pure awe at how thick you were. The one thing he loved about living in the south were the women..the girls who were homegrown and country fed. Long before he was surrounded by BBL bodies, he was blessed with the fortune of seeing the ladies that didn’t need a knife. The ones that had the kind of ass that would make somebody do a double take and clutch their chest. But even so, he’d send you into a fit of laughter, playfully slapping his chest.

“Get away from me. Play too damn much.”

“What?! I didn’t lie..matter of fact, lemme get a closer look.”

Playfully chasing you into the shower where the second bout of your morning would surely ensue. There wasn’t a single doubt that you two would have no problem adjusting into a relationship.

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But unfortunately, the same couldn’t have been said for you guys’ best friends…the people both of you adored more than anything and the ones who had been seeing one another long before (y/n) and Eren even decided to hook up. Armin and Niesha weren’t exactly seeing eye to eye at the moment, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Seeing as how both of them truly only got along when they were fucking like rabid animals. Otherwise, it was a toxic game of cat and mouse. A test to see who could make the other jealous first. Posted up with this girl and hugging that dude. Childish antics if you’d ever seen any. Nonetheless, it worked for the chaotic pair. That was until last Friday at that yacht party, when it all came to a very explosive head.

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flashback: part two - miami port

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“So you gone sit and play in my face like that?! You gone lie and tell me you wasn’t with the bitch? Armin, who do you think I am?”

“And if I was..what exactly are you going to do about it? But since you asked, Niesha. I’ll tell you exactly who you are..an idiot. I mean, no offense, baby but you have to be out of your fucking mind to think that we were anything more than this. What? You thought because I brought you a couple purses, some jewelry that me and you would be together? Sweetheart, you are nothing more than some stress relief. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll admit, the pussy was good..amazing even but I don’t plan on settling any time soon. Especially not with someone like you.”

words that stung like bees, ones that should have been cutting deep and sending her into hysterics..if it were anyone else! But it was just as (Y/N) had said:

“Haven’t met a dude she hadn’t left crying yet.”

and just as she had predicted, Armin was up next! Rather than bursting into tearful sobs and cries, he was met with cackles and hearty laughs. A tattooed hand and long acrylics covered her mouth as her head flew back. Eventually doubling over in laughter.

“What the fuck is so funny?” His nerves obviously rattled by how unbothered she was. He knew that Niesha was crazy and hell, that was half the excitement but damn, any other woman would have at least slapped and said she hated him. Here she was cackling like shit was sweet..just what was this girl’s problem?!

“You done? Like I said, Armin..who do you think I am? You can save them lil’ weak ass insults for a bitch with no self esteem. I said it before and I’ll say it again..’you not going nowhere. And neither am I..” standing ten toes down in her sentiment, even folding her legs and pretending to swipe over her long nails. Completely unfazed by anything he’d said before. However, Armin was a little stirred in his spirit. Always getting riled up when he was with Niesha. That was the effect she’d had on him since the first night they met. Heated arguments turned to fiery, passionate sex that was always better than the last. But tonight, he’d decided he had enough and was calling it quits for good. He had to..otherwise, he was going to lose his own damn mind!

“Oh..you thought I was mad about that lil’ brokedown girl you had in your Insta story. If you’re gone try to make me jealous, at least get a bitch with all her teeth. Have some class.” and it was then that he’d retort back, trying to defend himself. He had been pacing the floor of the master bedroom suite in the ship’s cabin, trying not to lose his cool but this girl was really testing his patience. She had the nerve to cheat when he had spent all of that money on her?! The nerve. What made her so special from all the rest of the girls that fell in love with him?

“Says the one fucking half of The Miami Heat. Don’t try to check me for some shit when you’re doing the same thing. I saw you with him, Niesha.”

“That’s right. While you were getting neck from ol’ gummy bear, I was getting my shit cracked. I’m not your bitch so what are you mad for? This free game.” And little was he aware of the can of worms that he had popped open.

“You know what your problem is? You’re entitled. You try to compensate with all these lil’ hoes because you’re really a loser, baby. You think they’ll actually fuck with you if you ain’t have the bread you did? C’mon now. Flexing mommy and daddy’s money ‘cause you would’ve never made it otherwise. Went and got you a chain, some tattoos and started showing your ass. But the real Armin? Ain’t nothing but a square ass ‘lil nigga looking for approval because his parents never gave it to him. You are so used to everybody kissing your ass because you throw a lil’ change in their face. But I’m not one of them. Ion care about you or your money. That bag? I already had two. Your lil’ necklace? I gave that shit away. We wouldn’t be together..you right..community dick is good for one thing and that’s never being seen in public with it. Matter of fact, I think Connie and Ony are here tonight. Might go see what their fine asses are hitting for. I need a real man.”

Suddenly, she’d stand to her feet and begin making the trek towards the door. As if nothing had happened but Armin was not about to let that happen. “Shit, if my sister hadn’t got to him first, maybe I would’ve fucked EJ too. Heard that dick was hitting—” suddenly, any bit of restraint and level headedness he may have had..went straight out of the window. Before she could walk out, Armin would grab her arm and force her against the wall. “Watch your fucking, Niesha.” Causing her to start cackling yet again. It was as if nothing phased this woman. His words may have meant nothing but hers hurt like a bitch! Insulting him, playing on his insecurities and then proudly admitting that she’d fuck his best friends?! She’d gone too far! He had gotten so worked up, he’d hadn’t even realized that his hand was latched around her throat. Immediately freezing because he’d never in his life hurt a woman and if she brought him to that point, then she had to go but before he could take it away..the look in Niesha’s eyes told a different story..one that thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his hands around her neck and even signified it by biting her lip; sucking her teeth in a lecherous manner. This toxicity truly got her excited!

“Mmm…now I like that shit.” Getting visibly aroused at the vice grip he had on her. Even prompting him to squeeze tighter because it’d get her wetter. All Armin could do was laugh because once again, she had worn him down and pulled him right back into her trap.

“You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?..or maybe I’m the crazy one for fucking with you..”

Just then, he’d feel his thumb between her plump lips, being suckled on and her deep set, dark, siren like eyes laser focused on him and his biggest weakness..that sweet little voice that she always drew him in with.

“Maybe..but..” and before she could complete the sentence, he’d have her up against the dresser, legs spread and her thong pushed to the side. “You’re right, I’m not going anywhere. And you’re sure as hell not. This pussy belongs to me, act like you remember.” This time, tugging her by her hair with the same force; proof that he was done playing games with her. He was going to show her what a real man was alright! “Now put that fucking phone down..” That slight grimace in his voice sent to her spine and her sensitive spot. She loved seeing him like this. Hence why she got his ass in an uproar in the first place. She wanted to get him as angry as possible to get him to take his frustration out on her. “Mm..whatever you say...”

Because in the end, she always got her way. And Armin? He’d finally met his match!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

Hence why, at the moment, he was headed into the Nobu, one of Miami’s premier eateries. Notorious for feeding some of the city’s most elite. Tonight, they’d be hosting the Artlerts..the leaders of a multi billion dollar conglomerate, earning their fortune in oil and technology..stemming back from the early nineteen hundreds. Needless to say, they were descendants of old money and Armin, was a direct beneficiary and byproduct of such wealth and he certainly took advantage of it. However, his parents had contacted him earlier in the week to inform him that they’d be flying into town and that there was important business that they needed to discuss with him. What exactly they had to discuss was a mystery..however, all would soon be revealed. Dressed in one of his several designer ensembles; an all black Armani suit..turtleneck tucked into his slacks with a matching belt buckle. Covering the plethora of tattoos that littered his body. Silver rings adorning his fingers and a matching necklace. Coordinated and fitting just right..the potent aroma of Tom Ford cologne radiating from his body..he truly looked like a million bucks. But unfortunately, his mood didn’t exactly match his current physical shape. Being with family should have been a monumental occasion. Marked with laughs, good times and love. And for the bright eyed, young producer..it was in his earlier years. As the only child to wealthy entrepreneurs and presumably, the heir to a massive fortune, they poured every ounce of adoration, care and their limitless resources into ensuring that Armin had the best upbringing possible. Private schools, tutors, a fully funded college education, and the best things that life had to offer. Which paid off..Armin excelled in every aspect of his life. Top tier grades; which earned him a steady four point six average until he graduated college with a degree in marine biology. He played baseball, basketball and rugby, an aficionado in all three and was even his university’s point guard up until junior year. Needless to say, he was his parents’ pride and joy. But it seemed as of late, that satisfaction seemed to have dissipated a bit. The Artlerts had high expectations for their child. Naturally, they supported anything that he wanted to explore and backed him one hundred percent..however, they weren’t betting on any of those ventures including making music. Less known, in the hip-hop industry. Granted, they had no qualms about it. If that’s what made him happy and he put his entire focus into it, then it was all that they could ask of their son.

That just wasn’t the case for Armin though. As successful and bright as he was, he was equally as reckless and rambunctious. Drinking, partying and laying up with various girls. Although he kept his parents out of the loop, it didn’t take long before word of his antics made it back to them via their inside sources who kept tabs on him and it was safe to say that they were not happy.

Hence why he was so nervous to meet with them tonight..the shame and embarrassment that was beginning to set in. He knew that his family would either scold him until they were red in the face or just give him a lecture of pure disappointment. Either way, he wasn’t much in the way of hearing it. Regardless, he’d traipse into the lofty establishment, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit as the hostess greeted him. Having quite the reputation and prestige, she informed him that his party was waiting and saw him to his table immediately. Glass chandeliers hung from the ceilings and cerulean lighting illuminated the dimmed dining area. Tables and booths lined with silky white cloths and perfectly folded napkins, seated next to polished silverware. Wine glasses filled with crystalline water and patrons, unmistakable members of the upper echelons chatted among their peers about finances, private trips and shopping sprees. It all felt so suffocating!

“Armin, darling! So glad you made it..”

Suddenly, a middle aged woman with honey blonde tufts, styled into loose curls, deep blue eyes and a pink satin gown with fur doused across her shoulders arose from her seat to drape her arms around him. The exorbitant pearls hanging from her neck and the Elizabeth Taylor perfume surrounded Armin like a warm embrace.

“Mom! It’s so good to see you.” grinning from ear to ear. No matter how old he grew or the amount of time that passed, he’d forever be his mom’s baby. Or as she could so affectionately dub him, her “pumpkin pie.” Because he was so sweet as a child. Seated next to her, was a man with a lighter variation of the hair color and features, with the exception of stubble and slightly thicker brows. His voice rang out with a stronger vibrato as he greeted his child. “Good to see you, son.” “Dad..good to see you too..” Reaching over to extend his arms for a hug. The tension had somewhat subsided from Armin’s body..seeing his folks again. At the end of the day, he was their baby regardless of what he did. “Please, have a seat.”

however, the news they came to deliver was going to do little to make him feel settled once revealed. Pulling his chair out, Armin would do as his mom instructed, taking a swig of water afterwards. “So..how’ve you been, Armin?” His mother made the first inquisition. Out of genuine concern and to break the proverbial ice. It always was easier for him to open up around her. He’d go on to tell them that he had been doing fine and that he was set to go on tour soon with his boys. They were working on some big projects and he was doing fine. Completely omitting the fact that his promiscuous, womanizing ways had caught up to him recently. Granted, he wasn’t going to let Niesha or her nonsense take him off of his true course but he couldn’t continue on playing these games..it was fun but it was also taxing. Even so, he couldn’t stay away from her. That’s how addictive it was. His mom seemed to be pleased by the update..her son in good health and spirits was all that she could ask for. Even if she didn’t exactly understand Armin’s career choice or even agree with it at times, it made her smile knowing that her son was happy..seeing him beam with excitement as he talked about working with these amazing artists and the upcoming festival his label was putting together. He also mentioned getting to work with the Pole Assassins and how they were bringing something new and innovative to the industry. His mother would grin and giggle, listening and even asking pertinent questions, ones that he was happy to answer. It took his mind away from all the other things and possibilities that could have been coming with this conversation. “Oh sweetie..I’m so proud of you. It sounds like you’re having a wonderful time.” She’d hoist her glass with a cheery expression and take a sip to commemorate his success. That’s when he’d glance over to his father, who shared a similar expression, faintly grinning and nodding.

“I have to agree. It’s good to see you doing something you love, son. Very proud of you.” His father would nurse his champagne once more before setting his glass back to the crisp tablecloth. Regardless of how he felt, his parents had never put this immense pressure on him or made him feel inadequate for his choices. Many of his peers who had also come from esteemed backgrounds were constantly under the scrutiny of their guardians. They were working in prestigious, lucrative fields, making endless amounts of wealth and doing great things. And still didn’t have their family’s respect. Armin was truly fortunate. Even so, it didn’t stop them from worrying. It didn’t stop them from being afraid that one day, the entertaining lifestyle would catch up with him. They weren’t blind or stupid..not by a long shot. They knew their son partook in all of the things that his and his friends lyrics’ entailed. “So..are you seeing anyone? Is there a lucky girl in your life?” His dad, who had always teased him, knew how flustered he became, mainly because despite his playboy appearance now..his son was the most adorable nerd in his former life! “Ah-well..you know. I’m just kinda..keeping my options open.” Part of him was ashamed and another half was nervous. Ashamed that he couldn’t present his folks with a suitable young lady. That he hadn’t brought a date to any of their meetings..he was aware that they wanted him to get married, start a family but he just wasn’t ready to commit to that yet. He wanted to have fun, mess around and more so..have his fill! He didn’t want just one lady. It wasn’t his style..on the other hand, he was nervous..nervous because he could no longer deny the feelings he had for that insane woman. Regardless of how batshit crazy Niesha drove him, she’d had her claws sunk into his skin deep and he didn’t want anyone else but her.

Even at his party, after fighting with her and everything, he made love to her as if he were hoping to make her stay and although she was just saying the most evil things..she told him she loved him. Crying it into his ear as she held him close. He’d been with a couple girls here and there but all he could think about was where she was..was she thinking of him too? He was nervous because if he could no longer fight his urges, would he be able to bring her home? Would they accept her?…would they still be proud of their baby boy? She came from an entirely different world than him. One he loved being a part of. She was wild, rambunctious and unfortunately, couldn’t flip a switch the way he did. Maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with her ass! She lived in her truth twenty four seven. There was no faking with her..and ironically, he admired that. And despite what she said, she actually gave a damn about him..unlike the others. She was honest, she made him care about himself and didn’t allow him to stay in bad places too long. It was crazy..

“Well I’m sure the right girl will come along soon..” “..yeah, unless you just have no game.” His father uttered with a sly look, making Armin scoff and laugh as he took another sip. “You wish, old man. I have many problems but that’s not one.” He always enjoyed when he and his dad would banter back and forth. It reminded Armin that he was human and not this billionaire machine, who only focused on amassing profit. “Alright, this old dog could teach you some tricks. All you have to do is ask.” The three would laugh, joke and have a wonderful time. “Oh please, don’t let him fool you. He was a scared wreck when he asked me on our first date. His friends had to deliver his love letter during class because he was so nervous. Adorable, really.” “It was called delegating tasks. I just knew you’d say yes.” "You're so full of it.."

He was truly enjoying this time and feeling back to himself. He felt as if he could truly be honest and open with them. More so than when he was younger..they weren’t inherently strict but they kept him on a tight leash so that he didn’t wind up like some of his other classmates; taking Adderall and Xans during ski trips or family gatherings. He was the one and only heir to the Artlert Industries fortune. Hence why once their meals were brought out, they’d pose another question..

“Hope you don’t mind, we ordered for you since we had no idea when you’d arrive. Your favorite.” And they were spot on. Linguine with spinach and lobster. “Not at all..thank you.” As he took the first bite of his dish, that’s when Mr. Artlert would look directly up at his son..

“Armin..do you like making music? Is this something you enjoy?..”

The question came as a bit of a shock, honestly. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought about that in depth. Armin first began delving into music as an adolescent..he sang in the church choir as a young kid and was gifted his first instrument when he was twelve years old. It was the core link that bonded him and EJ together so for him, it was essentially something that changed his life. He honestly had never thought about doing anything else..

“Of course..I wouldn’t if I didn’t. Why do you ask?” but it was more than just genuine curiosity and sudden interest in his son’s career that had the Artlert matriarch inquiring. There was an entirely different reason other than quality time that had prompted this dinner as well. Truth was, the Artlerts had been keeping a rather worrisome secret from their son and was contemplating when would be the appropriate time to divulge. Now was as good as any..might as well rip the bandage off and come clean. Clearing his throat, Mr. Artlert would take a swig of his wine before proceeding.

“Armin..your mom and I..we..”

At that moment, his stomach began to sink to its lowest pit and he’d begin to form a hard lump in his throat. What exactly did they have to tell him? Why were they stalling?!..Just then, his cerulean eyes began to dilate twice their size and even well up a bit. Were they getting a divorce? Did something happen to the company? He wished that they’d say something! But he’d wait no further because his mom would grasp a nearby handkerchief and press it to her face to conceal her inevitable tears. “Mom..what’s wrong? Please!..tell me.” his parents were his entire world and he couldn’t imagine anything causing them grief. But soon, he’d join in on the heavy feelings when his dad confessed something that he wasn’t expecting.

“Son..I went to the doctor last week and he informed me that they found something. A tumor..” the words seemed to have frozen time in its very tracks and shook the young producer to his core. He couldn’t believe it. “A-a tumor? Wait..are you?--” no! He couldn’t even say it! He couldn’t even fathom such a horrendous thought. Clutching his glass, Armin’s hands began to tremble and his breathing was labored. How could they keep such a secret?! How could they not tell him sooner?..the thought of something happening to the man that he so desperately admired and looked up to was terrifying.. he was scared to pry any further. Almost becoming childlike but just as he had done during his upbringing, Armin’s father would ease his mind.

“Fortunately..they did catch it in time so before it becomes too far malignant but the next couple months on my treatment will be crucial. I’m doing everything I can to ensure that I won’t become ill. I’ve hired the best team of doctors and I’m currently on sabbatical from the company. My board of advisors have already made proper arrangements as well. I’ve taken all precautions.”

It was a relief, truly. Although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he still had a fighting chance and that was more than enough for Armin. However, it wasn’t the only reason for his disclosure. He had an ultimatum of sorts for his son.

“Armin..you are the one and sole heir to the family business. Once I’m no longer around, you will be the one to step in. How you choose to proceed is your choice entirely–” “Don’t talk like that..don’t talk like you’ve already given up.”

He couldn’t stand it and although he assured him things would be fine, he couldn’t believe that until he had an official clean bill of health and stopped speaking as if he knew something Armin didn’t. But this was a pivotal moment..one where Armin would have to, for once in his life..make a hard decision. One that would require sacrifice..

"I'm going to fight as hard as I can, you have my word. I won't let something like this get me. But I have to know that you'll work just as hard to ensure your future. You've always been a bright young man and I trust that you'll continue to do what's best for you.."

it didn't take a rocket scientist to get what exactly he was implying. How far could music truly take him? Was it sustainable?...he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure how to process any of this but what he did know was that this wasn't going to be an easy road and he had a lot to contemplate from here on out.

"I'd be lying if I said that I am a fan of what you do. Can’t stand it. The music..the partying, all of it is not what I envisioned for you. Sometimes makes your mother and I feel as though we failed." Quite brutal but he could only speak from his heart. Tough love was sometimes necessary, even at the expense of his feelings. But there was one thing that he wanted his son to know above all else:

" That said..I love you, son. We both do..“Whatever choice you make, I support and always be proud..I won’t be upset with you no matter what but just make sure that it’s one you can live with.”

and something told him that his time to decide was running out..

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

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[steviewashere]

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It��s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one. 

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I��d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

[unreliablesnake]

Home is where your heart is (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: Vincent keeps you in a golden cage, but you want to get out. Winston's arrival gives you hope.

Note: Sort of the continuation of this. / If you find mistakes... that's on me. I was in a hurry. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, power imbalance

An arm was protectively–or maybe possessively–wrapped around your body when you woke up in the Marquis' bed the next morning. Technically, he was still a stranger to you, yet you had fallen into his trap the night before, giving in to this primal need that he brought out of you.

At this very moment, when the fog was rising from your brain, you felt disgusted. Was the sex good? Sure. Did you lose your pride? Absolutely. So you tried to pry his arm off of yourself, hoping to get out of bed and take a long, warm shower to wash away every trace of him, but he only tightened his grip on you.

“Stay,” was all he said, but you didn't stop. When he realized you weren't giving up just because he said so, he let out a groan and forcefully turned you around to face him. “If I tell you to stay, I expect you to do it.”

You gulped, unable to decide what the best strategy was in this situation. If you resisted, he could easily get mad and hurt you. If you remained silent and nodded obediently, you would simply submit to him. “I just wanted to take a shower,” you told him quietly.

“Good, I'll join you. Later.”

His green eyes were watching you with a curious look and you could feel your cheeks heat up from the unwanted attention. This man had you in a chokehold somehow, but there was nothing you could do to escape it–and honestly, you weren't even sure if that's what you wanted.

Because as terrible as he was, he had a charming personality when he put some effort into his behavior. He was like a black hole, pulling you in and tearing you apart no matter how hard you tried to resist.

You wondered what he thought you were to him. A pet? A prisoner? A guest? Whatever the answer was, you felt like you were locked in a golden cage, kept under close surveillance by him. He barely let you out of his sight, you were always expected to be near him in case he wanted something from you.

Because there was always something–a compliment, a well-calculated touch, or a rhetorical question he didn't really need you to answer. He was giving you mixed signals and you hated it. What the hell did he want from you? Was this all what he was planning to achieve, to lure you into his bed?

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” he suddenly asked while he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

Under different circumstances, it would have sounded like he truly cared, but you knew better than to believe that. He just wanted to see inside your head, probably wondering if you were plotting against him. After all, being naked in bed next to you made him vulnerable. Sure, he could protect himself, but you were also good at this game and he knew that.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked in the end. He let out a questioning hum, his palm threateningly resting on the side of your neck. “Why did you bring me here? You didn't answer my question last night.”

A small smile appeared on his lips, as if he was thinking about something funny. “I always get what I want. And this time, I wanted you,” he explained. “Do you have any idea how disarmingly beautiful you are? The first time I saw you in pictures, I didn't realize this. But when we met in person, I instantly knew that I needed you on my side.”

“As a prisoner or a slave?”

He leaned closer and kissed you surprisingly gently. “As a partner. My lover. Call it whatever you want,” he whispered against your lips.

Sadly, you believed him. You believed him when he said these words, when his hands moved from your neck to your waist, pulling you on top of him. Without him giving you an order or even saying a word, you kissed him again, and this was the best you'd felt in a long time.

Two days later he told you he was meeting someone in the Louvre and that he needed you to be there. Not like he hadn't been taking you to all of his meetings in the past days, but something was different about this one. It was almost… personal.

He didn't let you have a say in anything, he just pointed at an outfit and told you how to do your makeup. There was no freedom for you here, you knew that by now, but this was unusual, even for him. In the car the Marquis told you to start calling him Vincent, and something told you the timing wasn't a coincidence.

In the Louvre you quickly found out why he needed you to be there by his side. He was meeting Winston there, but when you wanted to stand up and welcome him, Vincent put his hand on your thigh to stop you. He didn't even look at you, he just instinctively reached out.

Winston immediately noticed his move and gave you a look of concern, but you just shook your head to make sure he didn't do or say anything that would enrage Vincent. You saw what he had done to Charon, you didn't want the same thing to happen to him.

As it turned out, he brought a message from John Wick himself, the very man who had just challenged him to a duel. He got tense, you could sense it, but you didn't say or do anything that would calm him down. Winston then presented his request regarding the Continental and his own position, but he didn't stop there. “I also want her back in New York,” he said as he looked at you.

After taking a deep breath, Vincent ran a finger down from your neck to your shoulder until his hand was once again resting on the back of the couch. “She stays with me, but the rest is guaranteed if Wick wins the duel,” he said coldly.

“That won't do. I need her in the Continental,” Winston pressed on.

“My answer is still no.” Thick silence fell between the two men, although Winston raised an eyebrow expectantly, forcing Vincent to speak up again. “Why don't we ask her?” he suggested.

He sounded sure of himself, but you were left dumbfounded by his words. Did he really think you would choose him? Were you weak around him? Maybe. Yes. But your loyalty lied with your boss, that didn't change.

“What do you say, love?” Vincent asked with his head curiously tipped to the side.

Your eyes locked with Winston's as you said, “I want to go back to New York.” You could feel the Frenchman tense up next to you, but it didn't bother you. Instead of stopping, you decided to twist the knife even more. “And I want to talk to Winston. Alone,” you clarified.

He drew in a sharp breath as he watched you, burning a hole into you with his stare. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “My men will keep an eye on you, though. I don't want you to leave just yet.”

Nodding, you stood up and followed Winston outside, walking next to him with your hands folded behind your back. You were painfully aware of the two men who were walking not far behind you. Close enough to see your every move, but far enough to be out of earshot luckily. This conversation wasn't meant for them or Vincent, it was supposed to be private.

“What was this all about?” he asked, taking his chance to speak up before you.

“I failed you, I guess.” He raised an eyebrow in question, patiently waiting for your explanation, but you didn't know how to tell him what happened. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I fell straight into his trap and slept with him. I shouldn't have done that, I know, and I'm sorry.”

To your biggest surprise, he began to laugh. “That's all? I can see what he's like. He's used to always getting what he wants, I'm sure he knows how to charm a woman,” he explained. “Is this why he brought you here? I saw the way he was looking at you in New York, I can't say I would be surprised.”

“He wants me to be by his side as his lover,” you replied with a shrug. “But I don't want to stay. I just want to get out of his gravitational field as fast as I can.”

Winston came to a halt and put a hand on your shoulder. “This will be over soon, don't worry. The Table will restore the Continental and we will go on with our lives as if nothing happened,” he tried to assure you.

But despite his best effort, you couldn't calm down, especially after the words Vincent had told him on your way out about what would happen to him if John lost the duel. It was a risk you didn't want him to take, but he was probably too sure of his friend's victory to worry about the outcome.

“We will be fine,” Winston said, somehow knowing what you were thinking about.

You nodded, doing your best to believe him. “And how are you holding up after everything that happened?” you asked, glancing back at one of Vincent's men who had been in New York that day.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he thought about his answer. “I will be fine once everyone is back to normal,” he replied. “You need to hang on just a little longer, then we're going back to New York together. I promise.”

“Is John already–”

“Time is up,” one of the guards said, interrupting you by putting a hand on your shoulder.

You gave your boss a worried look, but he only nodded. “He's already here. We'll meet the Marquis tomorrow,” Winston told you with a supportive smile. “Just one more day and it will be over.”

With that he began to walk towards the exit, and you were escorted back to Vincent. When you entered the room, you were welcomed by his cold gaze. Before you could say anything, he pointed at the couch he had left while you were gone.

“Sit,” he ordered sternly, and you automatically did as you were told. “You want to leave me that badly?”

You didn't know if it was true or not, but you could have sworn you heard a hint of disappointment in his voice. As he was watching you with his hands on his hips, you felt your heart sink for some reason. Did you feel bad for him? No, that couldn't be.

“Answer me.”

“I just want to go home,” you told him quietly.

For long seconds he was just staring at you in silence, but then he cleared his throat and walked over to the couch to look down at you from up close. “You're already home.”

**********

Note 2.0: Should he stay alive after the events of the movie? Should she stay if he does? I can't decide.

#vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #john wick

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 6 Prompt: Crush cw: period typical homophobia read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

The Hawkins High Library is somehow both quiet and bustling. There’s not a free table in sight; students hunched together in groups of twos and threes. Loners are forced to share with others. All of them with their noses deep into study guides, highlighters perched between tense lips. Some flip through flashcards, mumbling answers as the librarian watches over with a stern look, ready to shush anyone who dares make a sound. 

The sun beats down on the small room, rays of warmth promising free days to come. Summer break is on the horizon. All that stands between them and three months of endless freedom is finals. 

Finals, which, in Eddie’s case, don’t just promise a summer of freedom. But a life free from high school altogether. Assuming he manages to finally pass Mrs. O’Donnell’s chemistry final. 

The odds of this happening, though, are not very great. Especially since he’s already failed her chemistry class once before. (Honestly, Hawkins High should just hire a new chemistry teacher and stop putting everyone through her miserable class.) 

But it’s okay because Eddie’s actually been trying this semester. 

As in, he finally suffered through the mortifying ordeal of asking for help and landed himself the best tutor that Hawkins High has to offer: Nancy Wheeler. 

With her help, he’s managed to bring his F up to a low D- which isn’t great, but it's the closest he’s ever been to passing. Now, all he has to do is get a C on the final and submit some lame extra credit essay, and he should be able to turn that D- into a D+ and pass the class. 

At least, that’s the plan. 

Which is why he’s currently tucked away at a library table opposite Nancy and the King of Hawkins high himself, Steve Harrington, instead of bumming around in Jeff’s garage planning their summer Hellfire campaign. 

“Okay,” Nancy says, pulling his attention away from the giant library window. She’s holding an index card in her hands. Her usual pristine manicure chipped. Nails bit as short as possible. Eddie supposes the stress of finals even gets to the nerds. “A proton has what kind of charge?” 

“Positive.” 

She nods, not one for verbal praise, and flips to the next card. “What happens in an endergonic reaction?” 

Shit.

He should know this one. 

Eddie taps his pencil against the table. Tilts his head back until his eyes are focused on the ugly popcorn ceiling of the library as if it holds the answers. It doesn’t, unfortunately. Frustrated, he buries his head in his hands for a moment before peering up at Nancy with his big brown eyes and a solemn look on his face. 

Steve scoffs beside Nancy, looking up from his own study guide to throw an arm possessively around her. 

Eddie’s about to call him out on his weird macho man behavior when his stomach starts to growl. Jesus H. Christ. He knew he shouldn’t have skipped lunch today. 

Nancy sighs, shaking Steve’s arm off of her as she stands. “I’m going to go grab us some snacks from the vending machine.” 

“You’re the best, Wheeler!” Eddie smiles, watching as Nancy walks away. 

When he turns back to the table, ready to flip the flashcard over to learn what an endergonic reaction is, Steve is glaring at him. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest as he leans back in the chair. Eddie can tell he’s trying to look casual and unbothered, but the tension in his jaw and the rage in his eyes say otherwise. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist, my liege?” 

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid, Munson? I can see you flirting with my girlfriend right in front of me.” 

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded, wide eyes blinking as Steve continues to glare. There’s a rumble in the pit of his stomach, one that stems from laughter instead of hunger, but Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep it at bay. Something tells him laughing at Steve isn’t going to end well for him. He might have a bad track record when it comes to fights, but the only punch Eddie has ever thrown was accidental at a haunted house. And he ended up bruising his own hand instead of the clown’s nose. 

“I don’t have a crush on Nancy.” 

“Sure you don’t,” Steve hums sarcastically, crossing his arms even tighter. 

The stupid sleeves of his striped polo strain against the bulge of his biceps, and Eddie tries his best not to stare. Oh, if only you knew the truth, Harrington.

“Every guy here has a crush on Nancy. Especially since they know they can’t have her.” 

This time, it’s Eddie who scoffs. Objectively, sure, Nancy’s cute and all. But, the audacity of Harrington to think every guy wants her just because he has her is more irritating than comical. He doesn’t think Nancy would be too thrilled about it either. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Harrington, but I don’t think about Nancy like that.” 

“So, what are you a queer then?” Steve snaps. 

Eddie feels his skin heat up like the blood is rushing to his cheeks and his ears, and then, as quickly as the temperature rises, it sinks, sending him into a numbing cold. Judging by Harrington’s wide eye gaze, Eddie assumes he looks like a guy who’s two seconds away from hurling or passing out on the floor. Both of which he’d welcome. Anything is better than having this conversation with Harrington. 

“Wait,” Steve says as if Eddie has the strength to get up from his seat. “Shit, I’m sorry. I— I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry, man. I’m trying not to be this asshole, and then I go and say asshole shit like that. I just—“ Steve drags both hands down his face as he groans.

“You’re in love with her and don’t want another freak stealing her from you?” Eddie supplies, totally caught off guard by the sound of his own voice. Honestly, he’s kinda proud of himself for stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone a dig like that, after Steve’s insult-turned-apology. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with those stupid wide eyes, and his even stupider lips barely parted. 

“What? It was kind of hard to ignore the little lover's quarrel you and Byers got into last winter. But trust me, Harrington. You have nothing to worry about. All I want from Wheeler is her help passing chem. As soon as I get that, I’ll be out of both of your hair.” 

Eddie can tell Steve’s thinking of a way to respond to that, but he never gets the chance because Nancy reappears just then. She dumps a handful of “brain food” on the table  — mostly trail mix concoctions and a lone Snickers bar — and passes each of the boys a bottle of water. It’s not exactly what Eddie was hoping for when she left for snacks, but he’s not about to complain. 

“Okay, so, endergonic reactions.” 

+ + +

Truthfully, Eddie should stop making plans since they never seem to go his way. What was supposed to be a chill, music-filled spring break has turned into quite the opposite. 

Instead, he’s spent the last two days in hiding, with only a handful of people keeping him safe, including Harrington and Wheeler, of all people. 

So much for staying out of their hair, he thinks manically, as he walks in tandem beside Steve in the actual hell-like version of Hawkins. They trail behind Robin and Nancy, Eddie rambling on and on about Steve, but he just can’t shut up. Maybe it’s the nerves, maybe it’s the memory of the three of them back in that library, maybe it’s just Eddie self-sabotaging because seeing Steve in his vest is doing things to him. Things he doesn't have time to deal with, especially not when Wheeler is right there.

Whatever it is, Eddie’s about to do the stupidest thing he’s ever done, aside from jumping into Lover's Lake in the first place.

Steve stops walking the minute Eddie starts talking about why he followed them here. They stop beside a tree, and Eddie angles his body so he’s in front of Steve. Probably closer than he should be, but Eddie’s not about to step backward. Not when there could be a creepy vine ready to trip him and give their positions away to the hoard of bats in the sky. No, thank you. 

He presses on instead, talking about Nancy and her incredible reaction time to Steve being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky waters. 

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back,” Eddie says, eyes locked with Steve’s. “Because that was an unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.” 

With a hand clasped over his heart, Eddie watches as Steve glances towards Nancy’s direction. There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve’s actually going to listen to him. Run after the girl of his dreams and professes his undying love to her in the middle of the hell dimension version of Hawkins. But then, he slowly turns his head back toward Eddie and shakes his head. 

“I don’t...” Steve hesitates, eyes flickering to Eddie’s lips for the briefest of seconds before settling back on his eyes. He shakes his head. “I don’t have a crush on Nancy, man.” 

Eddie cocks his head in surprise. Lets a cackle of a laugh escape his lips as he stares back at Steve in disbelief. “You don’t have to bullshit me, man. It’s pretty clear you still have a thing for her. I mean, every guy in Hawkins has a crush on Nancy, remember.” 

Steve’s brows knit together, lips agape in that same stupid thinking face he gave Eddie all those years ago in the Hawkins High library. It’s aggravating how cute it is, even now when Steve’s covered in blood and grime and God knows what else. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, eyes slowly tracking Eddie from head to toe and back up again. “Turns out you were right. Not every guy has a crush on her. Some of us have eyes for someone else.” 

Just as Steve starts to lean in, the ground beneath them starts to rumble and shake, sending them both toppling to the floor. Whatever moment just happened between them disappears as the reality of their situation hits them again.

There’s no time for crushes when their lives are at stake. 

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